#in the end marian survives of course but she was not at all supposed to LOL

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

thinking about marithane for the first time in like. two years. and sorry i am NOT over it

a woman who came back from the dead and a man whose six months left to live ran out six months ago, embarking on a suicide mission together. not expecting much from their last days alive, just trying to finish the mission they came here (or in marian's case, were resurrected) to do

the unexpected friendship they find with each other that inspires them to live, not merely exist, for the first time in years in thane's case. he becomes her first love; she's the love he never thought he'd find after losing irikah

they give each other a reason to enjoy the time they have left rather than just. biding their time until it's over

and when worst came to worst they didn't need to fear death because whoever went first, the other wasn't far behind

idk my thoughts are kinda jumbled but. the comfort they find in each other, the gentleness. im in the goofy pool about it

[heliads]

Who Could Stay

Based on this request: "Robin Hood AU, Newt x female reader. Ava Paige is King John. Janson is the sheriff of Nottingham. Reader is Robin Hood. Thomas, Minho, Gally, and Chuck are the Merry Men. Newt is Marian. He’s a nobleman who the reader falls in love with."

vibes off the charts

masterlist

The morning of the contest looms. Across the fair city, scores of archers are readying their bows, fletching their arrows, parading towards the grounds in waves of checkered cloaks and satin garments. The prize, a bag of coins, doesn’t mean much to them by way of money. They’re more interested in the fame it would bring to their title than anything else. 

You, on the other hand, are distracted by something far more interesting than even the brightest compliment to your rank. Esteem is one thing, but gold? That’s of far more use to you. You are an outlaw, after all, and that means steady hours aren’t exactly your sort of thing.

Then again, you’re not just any outlaw. You’re the one that lingers in the rumors dotting town streets, the name whispered again and again over darkened thresholds and gossip mongers’ dens. You’re Robin Hood, and around here, that means something quite important.

No, you have no need for a title. You shucked that from your shoulders yourself when you chose to live in Sherwood Forest and spend the rest of your days on the run from the law. It’s not like you would ever want to retreat back to society, anyway; to take part in any action that might help the ruling class is strictly against your best wishes.

It hadn’t been like that all the time. There had once been a kind and fair leader over your people, King Alby, although the man hasn’t been seen in a very long time. You think some folk still harbor a belief that he might come back and save all of you, but you’ve long since accepted that such hope is worthless.

What matters now is trying to survive under the current regime. You’re sure that Queen Ava Paige ascended to the throne with at least the barest aspirations of doing good to her people, but those beliefs have long since been bled dry. Now, she terrorizes the towsfolk in search of more resources, more results, and never do the benefits ever reach the people they were supposed to help in the first place.

Additionally, her right hand man is something of a menace all by himself. Sheriff Janson of Nottingham is a foul, rattish man, given to seeking out people in need and leaving them even worse off than before. He’d kidnap or kill anyone he needed to if he thought it would get him a step ahead.

That’s why you left all of that behind. You live on the fringes of society, delving deep within Sherwood Forest every night to find a home far better than anything civilization could offer. When Ava and Janson’s men dare to venture within the bounds of your forest, you take their riches and redistribute them to those who could actually use the gilded trappings.

It’s more far this way by a long shot. Over time, you started to gain more supporters, and your band of outlaws grew. Now, you call yourselves the Merry Men, and your numbers only rise by the month.

Your friends survive not just by your own resources, however, but by constantly dancing in and out of skirmishes with Janson’s soldiers. That’s why entering today's archery contest would be a terrible idea, yet you’re still doing it anyway. There’s no doubt in your mind that Sheriff Janson will be there looking for the one they call Robin Hood, but that’s precisely why you have to go in the first place.

There’s something to be said for the fun of outsmarting the Sheriff. It’s quite easy to do, actually, and the rewards feel all the more pleasant for it. Although Robin Hood is technically an outlaw, there are no rules on the entries to this particular contest, so of course you could enter. The only problem comes with escaping after the contest ends and you’re right in the Sheriff’s clutches.

Then again, if you were the kind of person to back down from a good challenge, you’d never have made it as far as you have. You enjoy a good bit of fun, and this contest seems like just the right avenue for it.

Besides, if you’re willing to admit it to yourself, you’d share that there’s one more reason that you’re inclined to attend this archery contest in particular, other than the thrill of a cash prize and humiliating Janson:  namely, the young man you can just make out arriving at the scene of the contest, the sole nobleman you can’t find it in yourself to hate.

Lord Newt is well known throughout the town and surrounding lands for being a genuinely good person. He helps out those in need, he offers advice to those who come searching for it, he does everything in his power to make sure he uses his station to aid instead of harm.

He’s also way out of your league, even if you weren’t an outlaw. You’ve never had cause to meet him, obviously, but that doesn’t stop you from wishing you could. You lean against the trunk of a nearby tree, staring out at him as Newt crosses the field to greet some other nobles.

Behind you, a few of your Merry Men have noticed your distraction and feel it necessary to comment on the matter. Your newest arrival, Thomas, starts talking in a low voice.

“You know, I was so keen on figuring out how we were going to use that gold, but I’m starting to think that we might have to think more about getting our Robin Hood in line than anything else.”

The brusque voice of one of your best fighters, Minho, answers him soon enough. “You might have cause to worry after all, Thomas. Y/N’s not focused on her bow in the slightest, she’s too busy pining over some rich boy who’ll never pay her any attention. It’s a hopeless case.”

You respond to your friend’s retort without bothering to turn around. “Shut it, Minho, I’ve got enough skill with a bow to never have to practice. And besides, I wouldn’t exactly call my case hopeless.”

Minho lets out an obviously staged gasp of surprise. “Why’s that? Have you actually talked to him?”

You grin, and finally look over at him. “No, something better. He’s talked about me.”

Minho throws a hand in the air, whereas Thomas starts to laugh. “That’s not any indication of anything,” Minho says, “only that he’s aware of the local criminals. Everyone else is, too, does that mean the blacksmith is fond of you?”

“The blacksmith is incredibly fond of me,” you answer, eyes wide, “we give him ten gold pieces every time we see him.”

Another one of your Merry Men, Gally, snorts. “Well, if all it took to appease your nobleman were a few bribes, I’d say you’d better get to winning this contest. You’ll need every bit of that gold to attract someone so rich.”

“Ah, Gally,” you counter, “I don’t need money. I’ve got my dashing personality, and I don’t think there’s a soul alive who could resist that.”

“Even the Sheriff?” Gally asks, eyebrow raised.

“Even the Sheriff,” you grin, and reach up to pull the hood of your cloak over your face. It’s time to win this contest.

Despite your favoritism for causing a scene, you do know enough to keep your identity hidden. Entertaining a little bit of secrecy allows you to visit the town when you need to, especially when you’re not interested in leading the soldiers of Nottingham on a merry chase through the streets. You doubt any of the Sheriff’s men even know that you’re a girl. All they see is a deep green hooded cloak and nothing else.

You’re perfectly fine with staying hidden. Thus, when you arrive at the archery contest, hood casting your face in shadow, you don’t even have to say your name before the officiant announces in a surprised voice that Robin Hood has arrived to compete.

It does earn you your fair share of scathing remarks from your competitors as you take a position in front of an available target, but you could give less of a damn about what some nobleman’s useless sons think about you.

Instead, you allow yourself to glance casually over at the audience, where a certain someone resides in the box reserved for the wealthy. Lord Newt is already looking at you, and flushes a quiet scarlet when you flash him a quick smile. Looks like Minho doesn’t know what he’s talking about in the slightest.

The contest starts soon enough, forcing you to divert your attention away from Newt once more. As the officiant drones on about the rules, you notice something strange about your target. You swear it looks further away than the others, and the surface of the painted circles looks strange. The other competitors have hay bales with canvas stretched over them, but you could swear that yours is of a different material, likely not as easy to hit.

It wouldn’t surprise you that the Sheriff would resort to such tactics. He’s looking to humiliate you by taking away your skill with the bow. It’s a shame, then, that you’re used to practicing in far worse conditions. It’s almost fun to see the look on his face when you hit the dead center of the target anyway, despite all his meddling.

What’s less fun is when the Sheriff doesn’t even wait for the end of the contest before calling his soldiers to attack you. You were waiting for a trap, of course, but that doesn’t mean your escape isn’t fairly difficult to achieve. Within an hour, though, you’re meeting your Merry Men in the outskirts of the forest as planned, only a little worse for wear than before.

You’re ready to head back into the depths of the forest and lose any soldiers that might still be following you, but just as you’re turning to leave, Thomas gestures behind you with a jerk of his chin.

When you turn around, you’re surprised to see Newt standing there before you. If anything, he looks just as confused about the whole thing, but pulls out a bag from beneath his cloak before you have the chance to ask him what he’s doing. Judging by the way it clinks with every movement, you have a guess as to what it contains.

Newt explains anyway, clearly glad for some script to follow. “I know the contest was interrupted, but you still won fair and square. Figured you would be more deserving of the prize than if it just disappeared back into the Sheriff’s coffers.”

He holds out the bag to you, but you just grin. “I didn’t think you were in the habit of talking to criminals.”

Newt’s face flushes again, and when he speaks, his words are clipped, precisely controlled. It’s a very sharp contrast to the easy words of you and your men. “I’m not.”

You chuckle. “I can tell. Hideous accent. Atrocious. You sound like a nobleman.”

Newt blinks at you in surprise. “That’s because I am.”

You shrug. “Figures. Anyway, are you coming or not?”

“Am I coming?” Newt repeats, “What are you talking about?”

You allow yourself a small smile. “Back to our camp, of course. If you’re bringing us money, you’re clearly our friend. Maybe you could use a chance to get to know some of us petty thieves. Besides, if you’re having doubts please know that I will be leaving you with the money, and if you don’t follow us to hand it over that might be considered stealing.”

Newt stares at you a second longer, then starts to laugh. It’s a good look on him, you can admit it freely. “I think I can see why the Sheriff wants you dead.”

You grin back at him. “What, because of my winning temperament?”

“Something like that,” Newt says, and falls in line with the rest of you.

Thomas and Minho exchange surprised looks over your shoulder, but you’re not taken aback by Newt’s sudden decision in the slightest. Every time you’ve seen Newt out with the other noblemen, he looks distinctly uncomfortable, as if he’s more than aware that he isn’t quite like the others. It seems that your men might not be the only ones who want more from society than they’re going to get.

As it turns out, your hunch is spot on. It only takes a few minutes before Newt’s conversing with your friends as if he’d known them his entire life. He even manages to befriend Gally, a task that took you several weeks and the others ranging up to a few months. Newt’s just a nice guy, that’s all, and you certainly don’t mind his company in the slightest.

Newt’s position as an inhabitant of Sherwood Forest only seems to grow more permanent as the weeks pass by. He ends up visiting at least every couple of days to bring food, supplies, and news of the Sheriff. Newt’s basically a spy on the inside, and his information proves to be quite valuable on more than a few occasions. 

Thanks to his warnings, you and your Merry Men are able to avoid traps and ambushes, even despite Sheriff Janson’s best attempts to catch you. You can tell that it’s driving the man insane, even without Newt’s laughing stories about how Janson looks one minute from a heart attack.

Yes, Newt fits in quite well with your band of thieves. He even ends up bringing his younger sister, Lady Sonya, and her good friend, Lady Harriet one day, to the enjoyment of the whole party. Your newest addition, Aris, is particularly delighted to see them. As it turns out, he’s been friends with Sonya and Harriet for quite some time.

Aris had been a nobleman’s son before he joined your ranks. Just like you, the hypocrisy and inequality of it all got to him and he decided to run away. Aris hadn’t had much of a chance to warn Sonya and Harriet about his whereabouts, but they’re all certainly happy to catch each other up on all that’s happened in his absence.

You find Newt standing by the edge of your camp one night, watching the three kids talk. He’s just on the outskirts of the campfire, more in shadow than in light. All the same, you’re still able to see the quiet emotion flickering across his face as he listens to Aris regale the girls with stories of his newfound freedom. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that it was almost envy.

“You could do it too, you know,” you whisper, “Join us. Leave the rich and their self serving gambles to someone else.”

Newt sighs. “I wish I could. More than anything.”

You get the sense that he truly means it. “Then do it, Newt. You’ve heard Aris talk, he was able to make the trip. I know our way of life isn’t all velvet cloaks and grand palaces, but it’s worth something, too.”

Newt looks at you dead on, and you’re startled by the bleak hopelessness in his gaze. “It was feasible for Aris, but not for me. Aris is different, he doesn’t have as many people surrounding him all the time. I’m more chained up than Aris ever was, I couldn’t possibly be able to leave forever.”

Newt speaks quickly, the words hastened out of his mouth by something that could even be guilt. You’ve never wanted your friend to suffer, so you ease his burden as best you can.

“It’s not your fault,” you reply, “Besides, you are rather useful in your information. We wouldn’t know about half the attacks if you weren’t here.”

Newt smiles softly. “It is pretty fun, I can admit that. All the spying makes one feel rather daring.”

You laugh at that. “See, what did I tell you? We’ll make an outlaw of you yet.”

Before Newt can respond to that, you hear something, a sound carried over the whisper of the wind. You hold up a hand to ask for silence and listen hard. A moment later, your eyes widen as you realize just what’s coming for you.

“Soldiers!” You shout to your friends, “Everybody, run!”

There’s just enough time for your friends to register your words before the horses are upon you. They break into the clearing, hoofs rearing as armored men leap down at you. Newt grabs at your arm, dragging you away. This is no time for a fight, you’ve been heavily outnumbered and taken by surprise. You can see the others making the same choice as you, melting away into the forest before the soldiers can spot them.

Newt’s breath is harsh in your ear. “What do we do? Where do we go?”

You pull at your arms, still intertwined, and start to run in a northerly direction. “We established a safe location some time ago, everyone knows to meet there. Follow me.”

“As if I was going to leave you,” Newt mumbles under his breath, and runs after you.

The flight through the trees is dark and full of danger. Although you’ve always known Sherwood Forest well, it seems even more perilous now that you’re being pursued. The sounds of baying hounds and shouting men echo behind you, driving you forward as fast as you can. Branches whip at your face, roots seem to lunge towards your feet, but you and Newt fight on anyway.

Eventually, you gesture for him to come to a stop. This is the safe haven, a spring hidden deep in the crevices of a rock face. Only your Merry Men would be aware of its existence.

The two of you pause to catch your breath and wait for the others to arrive. Now that the danger is past, Newt glances at you, and his hand raises unconsciously to your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, gently wiping away a scarlet smear with his thumb.

You freeze there for a second, his hand still on your cheek. Neither Newt nor you appear willing to move. Why should you, anyway, when you’re so deeply cloaked in darkness that neither of you could be seen? The moonlight is soft, dappling his hair such that it seems more silver than gold. Perhaps the two of you will stay here forever, locked into place, twin statues that could never be separated. It is certainly a better fate than any that might befall you.

A crashing sound from the forest is the only thing capable of breaking the two of you apart. Within moments, Thomas is skidding to a stop in front of you, Gally and Chuck right behind him. Sonya and Harriet emerge from the woods a few paces back, looking just as worse for wear as the rest of you.

“Everyone here?” Thomas asks. Evidently, he had taken as many people as he could and just ran.

You start to do a head count, then panic. “Where’s Minho?”

Chuck’s eyes are wide. “He told me to run, and that he was going to distract a captain who was charging at us. Has he not come back yet?”

Your blood runs cold. “Not yet, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe he had to take a looping way here and he’ll show up later.”

A few hours later, though, even you have to admit that Minho won’t be coming. He’s likely been captured, something Newt confirms when he risks a trip into town to check it out for himself. Apparently the Sheriff is holding him hostage in one of the prisons. Minho himself is a little battered, but not too bad.

It’s a pretty obvious trap. The Sheriff is clearly waiting for you, but even in the face of such terrible odds, you know just as well as the rest of your friends that you’ll be coming for Minho anyway. Minho is one of your eldest friends, your bravest fighter. You’ll save him even if it damns you.

Newt still tries to talk you out of it, just in case. “Don’t go, Y/N. The rest of us can sneak around a lot easier than you can. Sheriff Janson’s got scores of men combing the streets in search of you, it’s not worth it.”

“It is,” you say simply, “Minho’s family. Besides, no one knows that I’m a girl. I’ll just act like a normal townsperson and we’ll be out of there in no time.”

Newt doesn’t seem convinced, but he can tell that you’ve already made your mind up. “I’m helping too,” he replies, “and don’t even think about trying to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you grin, and Newt smiles at last.

Thus the plan unfolds:  you and your Merry Men will wear disguises into town, as if you were nothing more than ordinary citizens of Nottingham. You’ll divert the guards and rescue Minho before Janson realizes that his infamous Robin Hood is a teenage girl. After that, you’ll have to keep your heads down for a while, but at least you’ll all be out.

The first part of the plan goes well enough. You and your friends enter Nottingham from different points, slowly but surely converging on the prison. You’re able to enter the jail under the guise of serving food to the prisoners, but that’s where it all goes wrong.

For one thing, the jail is empty. You check and double check the cells, but it’s true. Minho isn’t there. When you try to leave, soldiers arrive to block the doors. Obviously, they’ve been expecting someone would try to spring Minho, and the only ones who wouldn’t know about the switch would be you and your allies.

You’re able to fight off the soldiers reasonably well with the help of Gally and Thomas, but the element of surprise is gone. Newt races up to you, sharing through deep breaths that he heard Minho is being held at Queen Ava’s palace instead. The reward of capturing Robin Hood would be enough to even involve royalty. It would be a wonderful compliment were it not for the fact that you’re terrified you won’t be able to save Minho.

Newt knows secret passageways into and out of the castle thanks to all the hours he had to spend there in his youth, and is able to lead you and your friends to one of them. He does caution you about jumping out of windows any taller than the ground floor, and points to his leg with a wry grin.

“Got bored of a stuffy banquet and tried to escape,” he whispers, “Didn’t end too well. Now I’ve got a limp for life and not a whole lot to say for it.”

With that warning in mind, your group sets off. You don’t entirely know where Minho is being held within the bounds of the castle, so you split up into groups of two. All parties involved have the directions to head to the safe haven in the forest should anything happen, and then the searching begins.

You’re working with Newt, and the two of you check every room on your designated sector, the third floor, before coming up blank. As you’re turning around to head back out, your path is blocked by one of Ava Paige’s knights. You’ve heard a lot about this man in particular; a more dastardly blackguard has never been seen.

He’s even a worse foe than the Sheriff. This knight has spread his cruelty over the lands like a virus, infecting the minds of otherwise rational men with the urge to pay him off, to commit crimes in his name and give this treacherous man as much leverage as he could possibly have in the palace. He’s even been given a nickname by those unfortunate to come in contact with him:  the Flare, for how he burns his way through civilized society.

Newt stretches an arm in front of you, as if to keep himself in between you and the Flare. The knight cocks his head to the side, evidently curious as to what’s happening.

“Lord Newt, I haven’t seen you in quite some time. You know, I was hoping we’d meet. I hear we might have much in common.”

Newt shakes his head slowly. “I fear our meeting will have to be delayed a little longer. I must be off.”

The Flare’s eyes narrow. “You’d deny me my right? To induct good men such as yourself into my ranks, as my status allows?”

Newt’s gaze flickers briefly to you, and you can see the warning written there, clear as day. The Flare’s attention drifts to you now. “And who’s this lovely lady with you? You know, I’ve heard rumors that Robin Hood might not have the face we expected. You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

You and Newt start to make for a nearby exit, but the Flare draws his sword, stepping calmly in front of it. “I think the two of you know more than you’re letting on. I’m going to have to stop you there.”

Newt’s hand drifts to his sword, but you can see how this battle would turn out even before they cross blades for the first time. The enemy knight is armored, ready for a fight, not held back by something as foolish as a conscience. Were they to come in contact with each other, the Flare would kill Newt without a second’s hesitation, and you will not allow that to happen.

Instead, you grab Newt by the hand and sprint in the other direction, pulling him towards a nearby stairwell. The fact that neither of you are in armor does give you the advantage of speed, and you and Newt hurdle headlong down the stairs as fast as you can. Newt leads you through a whirlwind of quick turns, doubling back a few times just to make sure nobody could follow you.

When you’re certain that the Flare is nowhere to be seen, you and Newt slow down at last. You’re met by Thomas and Minho by the entrance, both of them bent double and gasping for breath.

“What happened?” You ask, fighting the wave of relief that crashes over you at the sight of your friend.

Thomas leans back against the wall. “Found Minho, but nearly got myself locked up instead. Janson had me, I swear it, and he was ready to kill me. He left the room for a minute, but Ava Paige let me go. It sounds strange, but it’s true.”

Newt frowns in bewilderment. “Queen Ava? What would she do that for?”

Thomas shrugs. “Beats me. Maybe she had a brief glimpse of a conscience or something. Anyway, we’re all out, I sent Gally and Aris out ahead of us to track down Sonya and Harriet. They all seemed fine. How about you guys?”

You smile grimly. “Nearly got murdered by a sickeningly bad knight, but other than that, we’re all good. Shall we leave this place before our luck runs out?”

“Sounds great to me,” Minho says fervently, and the four of you head for the forest.

Luckily, you encounter no further resistance on your troop back through the city. As you reach the edge of Sherwood Forest, however, Newt’s footsteps start to slow. You look back at him, and realize that he’s stopped walking altogether. He stares up at the horizon, where the outline of the palace is just visible amongst the tops of the nearby cottages.

You walk back to him, signaling for Minho and Thomas to continue without you. “What’s wrong, Newt?”

Newt shakes his head slowly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about how glad I am to leave that place.”

You stare at him, a slow realization dawning upon you. “What does that mean?”

Newt glances back at you at last, smiling as brightly as the morning sun. “I think you know perfectly well what it means.”

“Spell it out just in case, why don’t you?” You say faintly, “I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”

“Very well,” Newt replies, “I’m leaving Nottingham for good. I hereby pledge myself to be one of the Merry Men, to fight by your side as long as we both shall live. How’s that for an explanation?”

You beam at him. “It sounds perfectly alright to me. You really mean it? You’re leaving your old life for good?”

Newt nods solemnly. “I want this life, Y/N. I have for a while. It feels more real than anything I ever had before. The only question is if you’ll have me.”

You get the feeling he’s asking a different thing than just if you’ll let him be one of the Merry Men. So, you nod, and answer his unspoken question by kissing him. It seems an excellent answer to both of you.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria



requested by @thornyrose463, who also made this moodboard!

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Felix Idea

Continuation of this

“-and anyway, I told Marinette pink is just her color, but I’m sure you would have swooned if you’d seen her in that blue dress she made. Like, not even you, Sunshine would have been able to get out a word in the presence of that angel! A revelation in pastel hues, lemme tell you!”

“Alya,” Felix managed to interrupt her when she had to take a breath. Finding the Ladyblogger had been easy, but getting her to shut up for long enough to speak? Not so much. “Marinette” - or Marian, or whatever her name had been - “looks great! I believed you the first fifteen minutes you told me about it, and I still do now.”

“Oh, but you can’t believe it until you have seen her!”, Alyas blonde friend - Rose? - emphasized as her goth girlfriend nodded along. “We should go visit her right away or you’ll miss the opportunity to witness true lov- beauty!”

God, how did his cousin survive these girls. Felix had only been in their presence for minutes and he already felt the urge to stick his head in the Seine, just to drown out their voices in his ringing ears!

“Later.” he promised, “But I came here to ask you something, and it’s really important.”

Alya had the self control to keep her mouth shut and nod. Finally.

“A few months ago, you posted that interview with Ladybug on your blog, remember?”

Alya nodded again, enthusiasm sparking in her eyes. Before Felix could stop her, she was talking again.

“Pff, if I remember? Boy, that was like, the kickstart of my journalistic career! If our little networking Queen hadn’t managed to convince LB-“

“Alya!”, he interrupted again, his mind racing to keep up with her. Networking Queen? “I need you to listen. You’re my friend, right? Friends listen.”

Immediately, she let herself fall back next to him.

“Right! Sorry! Gettin’ a little carried away here.”

“No problem!”, Felix pressed out with the friendliest, most Adrien-like smile he could muster up. Even if he was at the brink of loosing his mind.

“Anyway. Our ‘Networking Queen’... I need you to get me a meeting with her. Today.”

Alyas eyes began to sparkle in a way that made Felix wonder of this had been a mistake.

“Oooooh, I get it.”, she all but cooed. “You want some alone time with your ‘just a friend’?”

“A date between model and fashionista?”, Rose chirped up, that same expression in her eyes.

“Chat Noir’s voice talking to our Everyday Ladybug?”, Juleka followed suit, red eyes eerily unblinking.

They could’ve texted him in ancient hieroglyphs and he would’ve understood more than the nonsense that had just left their mouths.

He was about to give up - fuck it, he’d just create an Akuma and wait for Ladybug to show up - when a shrill voice caught his attention.

“Did I just hear ‘Ladybug’?”, snickered a blonde girl walking out of a nearby boutique. “Because if you want to talk heroes, Adrie-chérie, you’ll want to talk to me!”

“Chloé”, Alya growled, but Felix wasn’t listening anymore.

Everything clicked into place.

Networking Queen? Chloé knew lots of famous people by living in an exclusive hotel.

Adrien’s ‘just a friend’? Who else could it be than his oldest companion, who was also too much of a headache to ever be considered more than a friend?

Fashionista? Well... personally, Felix would have preferred to go blind this very instant before having to look at that garish yellow jacket again, but Chloé’s mother still was the Style Queen.

And an Everyday Ladybug? He might not know how, but Chloé did have a miraculous at some point, making her a lower-tier, more ordinary hero. An everyday Ladybug, if you wanted to flatter her and insult the goddess that was Ladybug.

In other words: The contact that would get him Ladybugs attention? It was Chloé Bourgeois! Everything made sense now.

“Well, that’s my cue.”, Felix told the three furies next to him and got up. Chloé looked surprised when he actually walked over to her, but the girls? They looked flabbergasted.

“W-Wait a sec! Didn’t you want to go to Marinette’s with us?”, Rose pouted, tears forming in her ridiculously oversized eyes.

“Yeah!”, Alya complained. “Since when would you rather hang out with Chloé than grab some pastries and compliment Mari?!”

That’s it. Felix had had it with their pushy, unhelpful and downright obsessive interest in his view on some amateur-designers dress of the day! Jesus Christ, did Paris do this to people or were they just born with an endless reservoir of mindless chatter?!

“For the record,” Felix’ friendly facade began to crack as his smile turned malicious, “I do not want to visit Marinette. In fact, I do not care about this Marinette at all! And I don’t care about you, your infuriating riddles and your absolute gibberish either!”

Chloe next to him spit out the smoothie she’d been slurping and stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn’t done yet. Now that their faces varied from shock to anger to hurt, he had an idea for a back-up plan. Prime Akuma-material was prime Meeting-Ladybug material, after all.

“It has been almost half an hour until something even vaguely useful left your mouth!”, Felix happily continued his rant. “Up to then, the only thing you did was bore me to death with your tabloid of a blog, some band I now wish I’d never heard of, and the oh-so glorious color choice of a dress that isn’t even finished yet! I mean, I don’t know about you, but I have a very important and busy life! So, if you’ll excuse me?”

He straightened his jacket and turned towards Chloé’s limousine.

“I have interesting people to spend my day with.”

All four watched him get into the car, mouths agape, before a sharp “Chloé!” Let the blonde remember she was supposed to follow him.

“Uh, Yeah!”, she stammered towards the other three. “So long, you... uh... uninteresting people!”

-

“Are you alright?”, Chloé asked him for the third time since they had arrived at her room. “I mean, not to say I don’t approve of you realizing how stupid they are, but that was kind of... sudden.”

“I told you, Chloé.”, he faked patience. “I just want to spend some time with you! My best and oldest friend!”

“Oh”, she perked up. “Well, then! We didn’t hang out in ages, Adrikins!”

She threw herself into a red-cushioned armchair, sighing.

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember what we used to do all the time.”

A shrill, uncomfortable laugh escaped her, slowly dying down when she realized he wasn’t laughing along.

“So... uh, what do you want to do? We could play Ladybug and Chat Noir! I have these wicked expensive cosplays in my closet you have to see, maybe I’ll let you borrow the Chat Noir one! Sabrina usually plays him, but she’s got a cold and I definitely won’t let her contaminate it with some sort of poor people disease! So-“

“Why don’t we talk a little, for now?”, he cut her off, inspecting the numerous wardrobes in the room. Any sign that Ladybug frequented this place would be enough to raise his mood.

“About you being Queen Bee, for example! You and Ladybug must be... close.”

He turned around to her and she laughed.

“Close? We are BFFs! I mean, sure, she hasn’t given me a Miraculous in a while, but she still adores me. Everybody does, right?”

She laughed again.

“Right?”

Not bothering to answer, he rolled his eyes.

“Surely you must have a way to contact her.”, he hinted at his end goal of this conversation. “As close as you are, you must be talking all the time.”

“W-well...”, Chloé started, something unreadable in her expression, before she shook her head. “Of course! The bee signal, it’s on my balcony.”

She led him outside, proudly turning on what looked like a giant spotlight with bee motive.

“Cool, huh?”

Felix’ carefully cheerful face crumbled. This... was it? His chance at meeting Ladybug was nothing more than a glorified pocket torch on some rich girls‘ roof?!

“Cool?”, he laughed in disbelief. “Tell me, Chloé... has she ever actually answered your signal?”

The girl faltered.

“What?”

“Did Ladybug”, he hissed, anger pooling in his chest, “ever react to this thing?”

“I mean...”, she shrugged, “One or two times, I guess? But you can’t measure our friendship in how often she visited me, right? I mean, you didn’t visit a lot either!”

She laughed, but it sounded insecure now.

“Wow, that came of accusing! You know I adore you though, right, Adrikins?”

Sighing she leaned on the balcony railing.

“I bet you missed hanging out with me! It’s just that so much is changing for you right now, adjusting to school life and all, and you’re so crowded by these losers all the time. Sometimes I think you forget that we’re friends entirely, ha ha! That is, until I... until people are upset with me for some stupid reason.”

She talked on and on and on. Why was everybody talking so much today? Why did no one see how important this day was? How long he had pined for this moment to arrive, only to have it kept just out of reach.

“Hey, do you think you have time on Friday?”, Chloé finally ended her monologue. “Daddy is officially opening up our new spa area, and we’ve deserved a little break! Being popular is so exhausting.”

Felix let out a dry, bitter laugh and finally turned to his cousin’s childhood friend.

“Popular?”, he wanted to snarl, but it came out tired. “You’re not popular, Chloé. Get real.”

“Um, excuse-“

“No. I have had a thoroughly disappointing day, and I can’t stand to see more uselessness today.”

He sighed, ignoring how Chloé was backing away from him.

“Nobody likes you.”, he said matter-of-fact. “Who are you kidding? Ladybug won’t show up, and neither will anyone else. Any day. And I guess you should come to accept that, because the longer you entertain yourself with your little illusion, the more it will hurt when you realize you are hopeless.”

“Adrien, what’s gotten into you?”, she shook her head, trembling hands balled to fists. “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Yeah?”, he mocked her, desperate to let off some steam. “Why not? Is your Daddy going to throw money at me? Is your Mommy going to call me by the wrong name and pretend to fire me? Or is it just you she does that with?”

Now she actually flinched, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He can only muster up a halfhearted chuckle.

“Do me a favor, Chloé, now that you couldn’t even get Ladybug here. Go away. You bore me so, so much.”

He expected a fight - hoped for one, actually. So when she retreated, carefully, before turning and running away, he was almost disappointed. Because now he was alone on the roof, with no Akuma in sight, and the glorious Ladybug spending her day somewhere else entirely. Or maybe she was with Adrien. Maybe she had arrived the minute he had left, because that was just how lucky he was.

He sank to his knees, exhaustion pulling him down.

It had always been like this. Adrien was the lucky one, and he was just his little cousin.

Adrien, the prodigy son. The heir to a fashion empire, with parents who actually cared about where he was. The junior fencing champion, and multilingual genius, and the flawless face that was plastered all over Paris. Everybody loved Adrien, that was just how it was.

Even... Even Ladybug. For some reason his birdbrained, pampered cousin had the attention of the one person Felix wanted for himself.

No matter how unlikely, or unlogical, or unfair it was: Adrien always won, without even trying.

Meanwhile Felix schemed and planned and worked, but it never amounted to anything. Even though he was so much smarter. Even though he looked almost the same as his cousin. Even though he deserved it! God, with his luck, Adrien probably had a Miraculous too and spend all his freetime wooing Ladybug!

While he was stuck here, with children unworthy of his time, wasting his precious day in Paris.

He should have just-

“Chloé?”, a voice interrupted his laments. He looked up. That voice...

“Chloé!”, she repeated, landing skillfully next to the pool. “Are you alright? You turned on the signal, is there an Ak... A-Adrien?!”

Felix rose to his feet, staring at the apparition before him with awe. Black hair, tied into playful pigtails on the back, framed a face that “beautiful” didn’t even begin to describe. Clear blue eyes looked at him from underneath her red mask, the look in them so open and happy he felt his heart swell.

“Ladybug”, he whispered.

For once in his life, he was lucky.

- - -

Our spoiled brat is throwing a pity party, but now we‘re getting to the fun part!

[teamhook]

A Chapter A Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones​

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 25: Thwarted Dashing Rescue

Killian is pacing back and forth in Emma's garden. The flower's fragrance fill his nostrils. He misses her so much, but he needs to clear his mind. Thoughts of her are so painful and distracting. So he decides to go to the only place that allows him to gain perspective, the sea.

He walks into the house and calls out to Tink. "Tink, I'm going to the docks, to the Jolly. If anyone stops by, that's where I will be."

She rushes out of her hiding place and smooths her simple green dress. "I want to go with you. I was locked up for far too long at that convent."

"Tink, I'm sorry but I would rather go alone."

"Killian, you are not the only one that needs to breathe the salty fresh air or see the waves crashing against the hull of the ships."

"Fine, you come along then. Do you mind if we walk?"

"Are you kidding me? Killian, it's really far."

"No, it's not... but I suppose we can take the carriage if you'd prefer."

"No, we can walk. I know you would rather walk. I'm still coming along. You are not getting away from me. Killian, I know you are worried about Emma and I also know for a fact that she will come home soon and torture me with studies." She scrunches her nose and bumps his shoulder with her own.

They walk towards the docks using the route opposite of Sherwood Lane, the same road his love had been taken from.

"Don't worry, I will give you the space you need to think."

Once they reach the docks they separate. Tink quickly wanders the docks as she celebrates finally being free.

Killian's brows furrow in thought. He stares at the calming waves beyond the Jolly. He feels so at peace and the solitude is welcomed. Something doesn't feel quite right. He is very perceptive and right now he knows something is amiss. Normally the lost boys' gang flocks to him; he rarely reaches the Jolly without being bombarded with their questions and requests for sailing trips. It is surprisingly quiet. His two biggest fans are nowhere to be seen. Some time back he had caught a few of them aboard the ship hoping to stow away on one of his trips. He quickly turns and walks to a small group of boys playing on the docks. He recognizes one of them. "Johnny, lad, I was wondering where I could find Rufio and Felix?"

"Captain they are gone, they left with a man."

"They are gone? What man did they leave with? Johnny, how long ago was this?"

The boy thinks of his answer before replying, "Almost a week I think, maybe less."

He's a bloody git, he had been too busy looking for clues at the taverns. Sure the docks were filled with newcomers daily, but how many of these people paid any attention to the kids that dwelled there. The short answer is none. Not unless it suits them in some way. He knows this because he has lived it. He was once a lost boy; one of the lost ones. That is one of the reasons the boys look up to him. He was one of them and he managed to survive.

"Johnny, has the man returned to the docks since Rufio and Felix left with him?"

The boy shook his head slowly. "Are they in trouble Captain?"

"No, they're not Johnny." He kneels to be at eye level with the boy. He smiles at the young boy and ruffles his hair. He knows he cannot save them all but he knows Emma will know what to do. "My boy, I need a little bit of help at the office. How would you like to be my personal messenger?" He can offer the boy a place to sleep at the office. There is a small room in the back with two bunks. He knows Michael will not mind. He is a kind, old man. The alternative is his old beach cabin but it is too far.

Tink arrives, "Hey, what is going on?"

Killian turns to her, "Felix and Rufio aren't here; they left with some man, days back."

Tink looks at Killian confused.

"It's too much of a coincidence. Some man appears and persuades two very impressionable boys to leave with him. The sea calls to those two and I cannot picture them anywhere else. Then not long after, my wife disappears."

"I don't know Killian." She looks at him with pity.

"Tink I would gladly take that wager, I know I'm right. Let's get Johnny here to the office and then we go home."

"Fine, but are you going to tell Emma's parents of your theory?"

"About my suspicions; I will tell everyone once I have figured out why she was taken. Tink, I don't know why this man, whoever he is, would target Emma?"

"Killian I don't agree with you but if you feel that strongly I will help however you see fit."

"Good, let's drop off the boy and go home. Maybe Archie and Mr. Nolan will have news."

They each grab one of Johnny's hands and head towards his office with the boy in tow.

They quickly make the drop. Thomas welcomes the boy while Smee turns up his nose. The man truly is a rat.

"Sir, before you go, is there any news of Mrs. Jones?"

"Thank you for asking, Mr. Thomas," Killian stresses the name since his first mate has not mentioned his concern for his wife's abduction. He glares at Smee who in turn cowers in the corner. "I'm sure she will be home soon. I can feel it."

"I'm happy to hear that, sir. She is a wonderful woman."

"Is there anything else?"

Smee and Thomas answer in unison. "No sir, the business is going well."

"Good. For the time being, you two will be in charge. Johnny can deliver messages to the house in case it is needed. I have to head home. Please keep an eye on the boy."

"Of course sir, it will be a pleasure." Mr. Thomas looks fondly at the boy already.

Killian and Tink leave the boy behind and head to the house.

Snow promptly arrives back home after her conversation with Cora. She knows the idea of reaching out to her was not well received, but she knows they will understand and accept her decision. The end goal is to get Emma home. Not long after her arrival David and Archie arrive.

"David, Archie how did it go? Is he going to help?"

"He wasn't thrilled with the idea, that was obvious, but he will. Especially if he knows what is good for him." Archie nods in agreement with David's words.

"I went to go see Cora. She agreed to help. Not long after I delivered the news of Emma's disappearance August left to meet with you both at the Sheriff's office."

David looks at Archie as they both respond at the same time. "We didn't see him there."

"Oh, he seemed eager to help. He cares for Emma."

"Sweetheart, he must have arrived after we left. I thought we had agreed to meet with the Sheriff first."

"This is Emma we are talking about; I'm not taking any chances."

Archie cuts in, "I'm sure things will work out."

David looks at his friend and nods in agreement. "Snow, with Cora's support, I'm sure in no time we will have our daughter back."

Archie smiles, "I should go update Killian."

Snow and David agree for him to go talk to Killian.

There is a pounding on the door and Killian rushes to answer, maybe it's news. He opened the door wide and is greeted by Sheriff Nottingham, who steps inside and makes himself at home without being invited.

"Killian Jones, oh, how you have moved up in the world. Marrying above your class; how fortunate for you."

"Nottingham, what do you want? Are you here to ask for a bribe?" Killian knows he's struck a nerve because the Sheriff goes red.

"If I was you, Captain, I would not anger the person sent to help you find your wife. Your father-in-law and your good friend Mr. Hopper came to see me, and last but not least, the all-powerful August Booth was there later. If you ask me, everyone is putting too much importance on the wife of a pirate."

"My Emma is bloody amazing and you would be lucky to breathe the same air as her. You should keep in mind that she is not only my wife. She is the daughter of Snow and David Nolan. She is close to the Booths. She is not an expendable orphan no one cares for or a simple barmaid that just disappeared."

"Oh, I've gathered that. Mr. Booth was adamant about me finding her. I do wonder why he puts such an effort in looking for his ex-betrothed. Interesting, isn't it? Do you think maybe there is more to his interest?"

"What are you getting at? Just spit it out!"

"He was betrothed to her and then he changed her for the cousin. I don't know, Captain, he may be having second thoughts."

"I don't bloody care if he is having second thoughts or not. Emma is my wife and we are very happy together."

"And yet, she is not here to confirm your story. I think she wanted to run away after she realized that she ruined her life by marrying you. Maybe she got tired of you and found a new lover or went back to an old one." Nottingham smiles and strokes his chin.

Killian laughs at his snide remark and slowly approaches the Sheriff. "I think you are confusing my wife with Lady Marian. Weren't you two to be betrothed? Oh yes, I recall now, she met the dashing Robin Locksley and married him instead. I hear they have a lovely son."

Nottingham closes his eyes as he squeezes his hands into fists so tight that they turned white. He tries to look around the house for a distraction. "I'm only here to do my job."

"Are you mate? You could have fooled me. You are here to get a rise out of me."

"If it was up to me I would let the pieces fall where they shall but in no uncertain way, I was threatened to action by your father-in-law and August Booth."

"Look around if you need to. I've got nothing to hide."

"It appears so, Jones." He tilts his head towards the interior of the house.

Killian starts to walk and is interrupted by Tink. "I will show Nottingham around." He has no doubt Tink is only giving the Sheriff the tour to avoid them from shedding any blood. So he easily makes his way once more to the garden.

After Snow's departure, Cora summons Malcolm to the office.

"Mrs. Booth, how can I be of assistance today?"

"I need Emma brought back. David and Mr. Hopper have reached out to the Sheriff. August went to assist them. Snow agreed to keep her mouth quiet. The plan was never to keep her away forever."

"Oh, so soon; I thought it would take longer for her to agree."

"Malcolm, you seem to underestimate a mother's love. It is never a wise choice."

Malcolm maintains eye contact with her. "I would never make that mistake about you."

"Bring her back, and Malcolm, make sure she is unharmed." With those final words, she leaves him in the office with doors wide open.

Malcolm stays behind trying to think of a way to break the news to the other Mrs. Booth.

He searches for Milah to give her the news. She will not be happy to find out that it is time to bring her cousin back. He will claim that with the pressure the families are applying he cannot risk getting caught.

The volatile personality of the younger Mrs. Booth has been evident to him from the start. He finally finds her walking back from her carefree walk in the gardens.

"Miss Milah, may I have a word?"

"Of course, how can I help?" She offers him her sweetest of smiles.

"I heard that your Aunt came by to request assistance in recovering Mrs. Jones. I'm just informing you that she will be returned soon. I will have to leave to retrieve her."

"Wait, we need to make the demand for her return to Killian. I cannot wait to see how easily he discards my cousin and keeps the ship. That will show everyone; especially Killian, that he doesn't love her as he claims."

"Don't worry I will have the ransom letter dropped before I leave."

"I could deliver it."

Malcolm stares at Milah. "I could go visit him feigning concern for Emma and say I saw the messenger and that he handed it to me or that it was on the floor."

"Don't you think they would question you further?"

"I could say I didn't pay attention. It doesn't matter."

"If you feel confident, I will not object. I will write it quickly. I need to leave and there will be two days for Jones to respond."

"Should I follow you?"

He looks around to see if he can spot anyone that could question their conversation and he didn't find any.

"Alright, follow me. We have to do this quickly."

"Malcolm, wait. Won't my precious mother-in-law have a problem with you leaving?"

"No, she knows I need to leave. I told her that I have some loose ends to tie-up."

"She has been very accommodating to your little excursions."

"Mrs. Booth and I are on good terms is all."

Milah can't hide the disgusted look on her face as they walk in silence to his room. He grabs stationary from the small desk and quickly composes the letter. Simple, direct and to the point.

Milah stares intently at Malcolm as he hands her the note to examine. She reads aloud, "Mr. Jones, Your wife in exchange of your ship. You have 24 hours to comply. You will sail the ship to the border of Misthaven and Port Hook. Leave the title of the ship in the Captain's Quarters to indicate compliance. Your wife will be returned within 24 hours. Let's keep this between us, the first sign of a third party will result in you never seeing your lovely wife again."

"I think this will do perfectly. Malcolm, why does he have to sail out of Misthaven?"

"That question surprises me coming from you. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be caught. It will be a quick sail for him."

"I really wish you didn't have to retrieve Emma."

"You should be happy. You have insisted that he doesn't love her. This will be proof. Now, I have to go. I had asked Dr. Hyde to check in on her. He had reluctantly agreed only because he was afraid one of my helpers might hurt her. He is concerned due to the obvious hate for Mrs. Jones. It seems like there is someone out there that dislikes her even more than you do."

"I don't dislike my cousin but I have never been one to share."

"Have you considered that perhaps this time she is the one that doesn't want to share? I have to go now."

Milah stares at him as he leaves. She has to leave to deliver the letter. She ponders if she should go look for August or Cora to inform them she is leaving and decides against it. The letter, ready to be delivered is neatly hidden from prying eyes.

Milah arrives by carriage to the Jones Residence. She smooths her dress and feels for the letter. She walks confidently toward the door and schools the expression on her face to show concern. She knocks hurriedly. The door opens after a few moments. The look on her face changes instantly as she faces an unknown woman.

"I'm here to see Mr. Jones," she stammers.

"He is not accepting visitors."

"He will see me," Milah says as she forces her way inside.

"I said he is not accepting visitors. You should leave before I force you."

"How dare you? I'm family. I have no idea where he found you but he will be very angry to know you are talking to me this way."

"You are not family. The only woman other than me that can claim to be his family is not here right now."

"I don't know who you think you are but I'm family. My cousin is his wife."

"Your cousin?" Tink repeats with recognition, "Oh, you're Milah. I know of you. Emma mentioned you. What are you doing here? You come to offer yourself when he is distraught. Wasn't it enough that you stole her betrothed now you are here to go after her husband?"

Milah turns beet red. "My cousin would never say such a thing."

"What do you truly know of your cousin or even care? If you would have cared you would have turned down a proposal you knew would break her heart."

"Oh I see, my saintly cousin only told her side of the story. What about her? She married Killian knowing that I loved him."

"What are you talking about, how do you know Killian?"

"That is none of your business, would you step out of my way. As I left my house I saw a boy headed up to the door and he just gave me this and said it was for Killian." She waves the letter in front of Tink. "It may be something important."

"Wait here and don't get any ideas. I'm not Emma; I will not hesitate in hurting you. Just so you know, I'm no lady."

"I can tell. Could you just get on with it? Go get Killian."

Tink glares at her and goes in search of Killian.

Killian had entered the house through the back door completely oblivious to the scene that is playing out inside his home.

Tink finally finds him in his and Emma's bedroom. He is reminiscing gently caressing her possessions.

"Killian" Tink whispers.

"Aye," he sniffles and gives her a smile.

"Killian, when we came back from the docks you were so sure of yourself and now you are back to the defeated man that you were in the morning."

"I know if Emma was here things would be different."

"Killian, I know you are upset but there is someone here to see you."

"I have been expecting Archie or my father-in-law. Is it them?"

"I'm afraid not, it's Milah."

"What the bloody hell does she want? Tink, I cannot deal with her."

"She has a letter with her. She said that a boy was going to deliver it but left it with her when he saw her."

"Do you think it's the ransom letter?"

"I would think so. I hope so."

"Come on Tink, let's go find out."

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?" He arches his brow as they walk toward the living room.

"You and Milah had a dalliance. That you were in love."

"Ah, I thought I was but now I know for a fact that Emma has been the only woman I have ever truly loved."

She smiles and gently reaches out for his hand. "I know, I understand now. At first, I was so angry and hurt but you never gave me false hope."

"I'm sorry love; I believe that the right man for you is out there and that you will find him."

"Just so you know, I'm not leaving you alone with that witch. Emma would kill me."

"She would kill us both."

Killian clenches his jaw as he greets his unwanted guest. "Milah, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were doing only to find out you already have my cousin's replacement living with you. How would Emma feel to know that?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you but Tink is not Emma's replacement. Emma wanted her to come live with us."

"This is priceless; my cousin is more naïve than I gave her credit for."

"You will not come into my home and insult my wife. Get to the bloody point or get out!"

Milah rolls her eyes at him. "I would prefer to have this conversation alone."

"Either you start talking or leave," he demands through gritted white teeth.

Tink hisses at him under her breath, "The letter Killian."

"Milah, give me the bloody letter or was that a lie?"

She holds out the letter for him to take. He grabs the letter unceremoniously from her hand and opens it.

Tink stares at him as he reads it and mutters random words.

"Killian, is it the ransom letter?"

"Aye"

"What do they want?"

"The Jolly"

Emma is pacing in the little room, she has to get out now, she has no idea what they plan to do to her. She will not let fear thwart her plans. Suddenly there are footsteps just outside the door and she stays still and grabs her empty water cup slowly to go unnoticed and flips it. There aren't any options for weapons so she will use what she can. She sees the door knob turn slowly and then the door is open. The sunlight shines through and she can make out a silhouette of a man stepping into the cot. Before she can strike the intruder, she is stopped by the voice of her young friend. The cup drops to the floor.

"Miss Emma, it's me. Hurry, I don't know how long they will be gone. They went to town for supplies. We are lucky they left the carriage behind but they took one of the horses. The carriage will be slower with one horse but you'll have a head start."

"Rufio, thank you, I will never forget this. You are helping me get home. Come with me." Her eyes are teary and full of hope.

"I cannot come with you. I will lie and tell them you ran right before they got here."

"I will not know where to go. We have a better chance together."

"No, I hope the Captain can truly forgive me for my part in your separation. You are going to need to knock me out."

"No, come with me," she asks again, she fears for his well-being once she is gone.

"We have no time to argue. Come." He grabs her hand and pulls her out. The sun shines bright and hurts her eyes. She lifts her hand to shield her eyes as she follows him.

He abruptly stops in front of the carriage. She still can't focus her eyes as she hears the rustling and the horse neighing.

"Here, let me help you climb. You need to go. Now!" He looks so sad.

She stops suddenly. "Wait, I thought I was taking the carriage."

"No, it will be much faster if you ride the horse. The carriage will be too much weight for the lone horse and slow you down. You will surely be caught again."

Emma looks at her dress. It is dirty and rough to touch. If she is to ride the horse she cannot care for propriety. She reaches for the bottom and tears it enough to allow movement.

He helps her mount the horse, her torn garment making the climb easier. "Rufio, before I go. Do you know who is responsible?"

"I just know his last name... Peters, but I don't think he is in charge. He always said you were not to be hurt and that you would be released but I'm afraid of what Felix will do, he scares me."

"I know he doesn't like me. He blames me for losing Killian."

"I still think you should come with me."

"If they hadn't taken the other horse, I could, but two people on one horse. The horse will tire and we cannot take that risk. Please go, follow the dirt road and you will reach the crossroads, take a left turn and keep going. That will lead you back to Misthaven."

She rides the horse as fast as she can, following Rufio's instructions and disappearing into the sea of trees.

Rufio looks on as Emma gallops away to her freedom. He slowly walks back to the cot she had been held in. He grabs the cup she had in her hands and repeatedly strikes himself in the head, blow after blow until blood runs down his face. It has to look believable that Emma had assaulted him in her quest for freedom. He hopes that she has gained enough distance.

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked@profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87@snowbellewells@hollyethecurious@kymbersmith-90@branlovestowrite@thejollyroger-writer@shireness-says@ilovemesomekillianjones@thisonesatellite@thesschesthair@winterbythesea@stahlop@resident-of-storybrooke@superchocovian@lfh1226-linda@artistic-writer@thislassishooked@shardminds@winterbaby89@xhookswenchx@ultraluckycatnd@gingerchangeling@laschatzi@wellhellotragic@xemmaloveskillianx@courtorderedcake@pirateherokillian@optomisticgirl@darkcolinodonorgasm@sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426​

[sepiadice]

Tales of Genius Ch. 3: Blossomforth Brides Pt. 1

(1/26/2019)

I’ve been wanting to get to this session for years. Literal years. Since the overly dramatic high school group, when I first introduced and used North Fort in a Pathfinder session, then reiterated on for years after, always dying to do this campaign.

What feels like a decade later,[1] we finally reach Blossomforth.

Shorter session this time. Limited player availability, late start, arguments over the difficulty dice in magic, my usual distraction making dinner.[2] The usual.

Hopefully I can coordinate sessions more often, since we actually stopped two-thirds of the way through my plans.

I’ll have to actually figure out what happens next. Dang.

CAST

Eli Roberts: (Played by Lyons) Child of Clio. Doctor, travelling to write a medical text akin to Gray’s Anatomy. He’s an Intellectual! Older gentleman, hits on women to fluster the GM.

Olivia Grayson: (Played by Maddie) Child of Thalia. Apprentice to Eli. Believes her Squirrel-raccoon companion is her boyfriend reincarnated. Murdered a dude, stole his clothes.

Fromthe: (Played by Jose) Child of Calliope. Military veteran and current mercenary. Also has some mercantile ambitions. Doing fine.

Jean De Ferrero: (Played by Anthony) Child of Terpsichore. Travelling con artist. Took aforementioned murder victim’s gun.

So we pick up where we left off last time: standing outside the Soldier’s Rest Mayor’s office, Eli with a letter. I had an idea for what they encounter if they backtracked to North Fort,[3] if they stay,[4] and of course if they actually move forward.

This is why it’s handy to be loose with session planning: gives you extra room to think up threads for other locations if the party goes rogue and wants to go back or over there. If you intend to mostly wing it, you can write out a couple sentence-long ‘this is a possibility’ suggestions, and be prepared to improv if you get called on it!

But the players tend to be good at minding my overly obvious plot threads. Maybe in an overly meta way. I have to learn subtlety.

Anyways, the party reviews the plot, and figures out how to advance. Namely, by going south to the nearest train station in Blossomforth.

They get a wagon ride and arrive about a half day later, in the evening.

Blossomforth is an agricultural town well regarded for its Strawberry Wine, which is exported even beyond the borders of Astree. Small town, traditional, and because I’d watched a Let’s Play of Night in the Woods, there’s a subtle undercurrent of the younger folks moving away and the older folks being afraid of the town fading away.

Eli happens to know someone in the town whose son he saved.[5] William lets Eli and pals stay at his home, noting his son moved to Taffyport and works at a factory.

Which is the first canon mention of Taffyport.

Unfortunately, due to winter, the trains aren’t running up to Blossomforth just yet. That’ll have to wait until after the Forest Bride Festival.

You see, every year, a little before spring, the town gathers to prepare for planting season and celebrate surviving winter. They open a barrel of Strawberry Wine prepared during the last Harvest Festival, dance, sing, play booth games, send a maiden into the woods for an ancient ritual, feast. That sort of stuff.

The party joke about human sacrifices. William gets uncomfortable. After some needling from Dr. Roberts, William comes clean:

The titular Forest Brides are supposed to come back. Historically, they do! Bring in a bottle of wine and food, supposedly talk to the local deity,[6] then come home.

The last two never came back. So the town’s divided. Be Tevye and continue tradition, or maybe stop losing girls to the woods... Forest? I’m not clear on that.

Anyways, Olivia hears forest and wants to go that way. We really need to examine why she’s learning medicine from Eli if she hates people so much.

The party manages to talk her into waiting for morning.

The next morning, she immediately heads towards the woods. The rest of the party follow. So I move a character from town to the woods so I can do the plot.

This is Ms. Marian Shepherd. In another, more elf-inhabited universe, the niece she shares a name with is often called Trix.[7]  Marian’s trying to get a pair of town guards to let her into the woods to investigate. Both Eli and Jean try to flirt, but Ms. Shepherd is more concerned about one of her pupils, Maryanne Diane, being this year’s Bride. Olivia hides amongst the trees.

Fromthe is businesslike, so she mostly deals with him.

She says they’d need to get permission from the town council, and agrees to take the party to them.

Olivia senses magic. There’s a lot of magic. Unfamiliar magic yet similar to what the party sensed in the mines they’d come from.

The party goes to where the festival preparations are happening and meet with the town council, who Eli decides he knows. I compromise, but mostly ignore the personalities he ascribes. We have Briggs, Sarah, and the third member who never got a name.[13] The party try to negotiate permission to investigate, mostly to Briggs.

Briggs is initially hesitant, but slowly comes around. The first Bride to go missing was his granddaughter, Ashley, but it’s not impossible she used the chance to run away and find a new life elsewhere. Fading town subplot, after all.

Councilwoman Sarah is opposed and doesn’t particularly like Eli, and tradition demands no trespass in the woods. Argue argue.

The third councilman, who most falsely assume is senile, speaks up and gives permission. As he’s the oldest person in a town that operates on a Town Elder system of governance, it’s the final word.

Briggs gives them a permission slip.

They invite Ms. Shepherd along, but she concedes she has nothing to offer, and was only trying to get into the woods so someone would be looking into things. Now someone is.

Into the woods.

The party follows the source of the odd magic, and eventually come upon a woman sitting on a boulder, eating a Corned Beef Sandwich with extra mayonnaise.[8] She introduces herself as Isabelle.

Oh, and Isabelle is wearing the same robes as the man Olivia murdered in the mine, and a rabbit skull mask. She also does not like seeing Olivia wearing the cloak and snake skull mask she looted, and demands to be allowed to burn it.

Olivia refuses, and after the party try to convince her to give the items up, Jean just grabs the mask, and eventually Olivia agrees to give up the cloak.

Turns out she’s here for the same reason as the party, more or less, and as they walk deeper into the forest, she provides some exposition.

She’s a Dark Shepherd, a secret society dedicated to maintaining cosmic balance and the traditions of Deep Magic, sometimes called dark magic or blood magic and the like. But it’s not really a morality thing, don’t worry.

The guy killed in the mines, however, belonged to a splinter group: the Feral Oaths. They think covering the land in iron and the growth of industry is bad and should be undone to return to the old ways.

She also says that, while deeply tragic, killing the giant snake in the mines may have been necessary, and doesn’t condemn the group. And while the loss of life is always sad, the man Olivia murdered[9] was a Feral Oath, so screw him.

They reach a clearing in the center of the forest. There’s a serene pond with a small island in the center with a tree on it. Isabelle takes a moment, concludes she doesn’t actually know if there’s a proper ceremony nor how to perform it, so she just sits.

A massive deer emerges.[10] The tree, as it turns out, is part of an antler. He’s really big.

He speaks. Probably in the mortals’ minds for the time being, but I didn’t specify that since I needed to get to a dramatic hanger.

So he’s been lonely. No one came last winter. Or the winter before that.

Which means the brides haven’t reached their destinations.

Huh.

Thus ends the session.

This is actually a little earlier than I planned, so I’ll have to figure out how to fill out the next session. I already have the general path Eli’s following, and I have schemes prepared for Fromthe and Olivia. I need to figure out something for Jean De Ferrero.[11] Probably should just talk to the player. Like a reasonable GM.

Lessons learned: nothing concrete comes to mind! I’m feeling more comfortable behind the screen, even though I still feel an amount of inadequacy. And I still need to confront my anxieties about my voice and speech impediment[12] before I can shift into a podcast project, but practice is always important. And hopefully a group that can lend gentle criticism and maybe argue about the magic rules less.

I think a good background thing is that it’s okay to have sidequests and plans that need to be triggered like a video game, and not to close options because the players didn’t jump on them. Narrative time is flexible, things can get moved, cooperate with players and grant them the chance to do what they feel is pressing and/or fun in the moment without sacrificing story or investment.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] Can’t be bothered to do the math. Write up should be on this blog.| [2] Everytime I tell myself ‘Next time, casserole’. Then I make something with curry. [3] Fun fact: in North Fort, I had a vague concept for what would happen if they decided to screw the catacombs/mine, and instead try going North to ask for help. Also an explanation the North Fort mayor would give for not trying this himself. [4] Both events could still trigger. Heh heh. [5] Lyons has picked up on my willingness to accept things that circumvent minor problems or non-issues. Would’ve let them grab an inn, but it doesn’t actually matter. He also names everyone because I’m garbage at names and haven’t enacted any solutions to said garbage. [6] Who isn’t a wolf that resides in wheat, and don’t you suggest I wear my inspiration blatantly on my sleeve! [7] Original, Pathfinder plan was this was a retired Trix, but things shifted, and Ms. Shepherd doesn’t have the right personality. [8] She needs the calories. [9] There were some lies about what happened, since he didn’t get a shot off, or really provide any characterization himself. [10] I decided to reference Princess Mononoke moments before I utilized it. So add it to the list of things I blatantly rip off. [11] Maybe he can found a confection company? [12] This has been occurring more often at work than the table, but still. [13] Lyons said third council-guy is name Lysander. I don’t recall this happening, so it’s a footnote of dubious canon now.

[believingispowerfulmagic]

OQ Fix It Week Day 4: Page 23 (Part 1)

For @oqfixitweek Day 4: The events after 4A never happened day

Uses this suggested prompt: Regina and Robin discover that they met and fell in love in the EF until Cora found them, separated them and put a memory curse on them

I do plan on writing more for this, but I just wanted to get this part up so I can get one step closer to the button and continue working on the other days. 

           Regina pushed Isaac into a chair and used magic to bind his hands to the armrests, just in case. He struggled against the bindings, pulling his arms up a few times before he settled back down. Isaac rolled his eyes at her. “Is this necessary?”

           “Since you have a tendency to run,” she said, leaning against a table and crossing her arms. “Yes.”

           He rolled his eyes. “Okay, what do you want? Your happy ending too? I know you’ve certainly have had your share of hard knocks. Out of all my characters, you seem to get screwed over the most.”

           She let a wry laugh, believing that to be the biggest understatement she had ever heard. But Regina shook her head. “I have my happy ending. I feel I finally belong somewhere. I belong here, in Storybrooke, with my family and my friends.”

           “Someone’s sounding a bit like Snow White,” Isaac taunted her. He then pulled against the bindings again. “So why do you want me here?”

           “We want to talk,” she replied.

           He frowned. “We?”

           “Yes.” Robin emerged from the shadows of her vault, leaning against a spot on the table next to her and crossing his arms as well. He smirked at Isaac. “We.”

           Isaac’s cocky demeanor melted away and his eyes widened. “I heard you two were together here. I figured this day would come.”

           They glanced at each other, both frowning in confusion. Regina let her arms fall as she stood up straighter. “What day?”

           “You mean you haven’t figured it out?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied him. “You haven’t guessed the truth?”

           “The truth?” Robin echoed, his own arms falling to his side as he stared at Isaac.

           Regina reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. She opened it up, revealing the image of her younger self kissing Robin in the tavern where Tinkerbell had first shown her the Man with the Lion Tattoo. Holding it up, she showed it to Isaac. “Are you talking about this?”

           His mouth fell open and he looked up at her, surprise in his eyes. “Where did you get that?”

           “It appeared one day while I was in the library,” Robin said. “Was it your doing? Were you trying to give us a message from the book?”

           Isaac shook his head and Regina frowned. “What is it then? Is it an alternate version? A cruel joke? A sign that we can change our stories? What is it?”

           “It’s not supposed to exist,” he snapped. “Your mother destroyed it decades ago.”

           Regina’s heart nearly stopped when she heard her mother was involved. Her hands shook as she pulled the paper close to her chest and Robin wrapped his arm around her. “What does my mother have to do with this?”

           Isaac sighed. “That is the real page twenty-three from the book. She destroyed your real story so that everyone’s memories changed to hide the truth—you went into the tavern that night, Regina, and met the man with the lion tattoo.”

           “Whiskey?” Robin asked, holding out a glass filled with the amber liquid to her.

           It was late at night and the house was quiet. Henry and Roland were both sound asleep in their rooms upstairs and almost all the lights were off except for the ones in Regina’s kitchen. She sat in her pajamas and robe at the table as Robin had filled up glasses at her bar, barefoot and wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

           Regina took the glass and gulped down a large amount of whiskey. The amber liquid burnt as it slid down her throat and she coughed a bit. “Ooh, it’s the strong stuff.”

           “I think we deserve that,” he said, taking a large sip of his own whiskey. He set the glass down and stared at the page spread out on the table between them. “So…that’s our real story.”

           “Apparently. I’m not entirely sure why I’m even surprised that my mother was involved. I bet Rumple was too. He probably got her back from Wonderland just so she could track me down and drag me home like a runaway child,” Regina said, crossing her arms as she leaned back.

           Robin leaned against his hands with his elbows on the table, still staring at the picture. His eyes were distant. “This changes everything. What memories are real? What are fake? Are my memories of Marian real?”

           “I’m sure they are,” Regina assured him, reaching out for him. “Given everything you’ve told me and Roland’s age, you most likely met her after my mother interfered. So yes, that’s all real.”

           He nodded, taking her hand. His thumb brushed the back of it gently. “Do you…Do you think we were happy?”

           She glanced down at the picture of the two of them kissing and smiled. “I think we were.”

           “Are those memories lost to us now?” he asked, looking pained. “Will we never know what happened to us during the time we were together?”

           Regina picked up Page 23. “I think I know something that might work. Isaac may have written the stories away but maybe this page showed up to tell us that the memories survived. We just have to unlock them.”

           He slid over, kissing her fingers. “I trust you, lovely. Do whatever you have to do.”

           “I’ll get started in the morning,” she said, cupping the back of his neck as she leaned closer. “For now, why don’t we finish our whiskey and head to bed?”

           Robin smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “That sounds like the perfect plan.”

           Tinkerbell squeezed Regina’s hands. “Your soulmate is waiting on the other side of this door. All you have to do is open it and step inside.”

           “What if he doesn’t like me?” she asked, glancing at the door. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

           “He’s your soulmate, Regina. That’s a powerful bond that ties you two together. Of course you’re going to like each other. And over time, you’ll come to love each other. This is your second chance, Regina. Take it,” the fairy encouraged her.

           Regina nodded, taking a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. Her stomach churned and her heart sped up as her breathing grew shallow despite her attempts. Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt before reaching for the handle. She gave it a good pull before her nerves could get the best of her, revealing the crowd inside. People milled about, laughing and drinking. Some danced in the back where a band of musicians performed.

           Her eyes, though, were focused on one man sitting by the bar bathed in a green glow. She watched as he drank from his tankard, laughing with some of the men who sat around him. Did she just walk up to him? What would she say to him?

           The music died down as did the conversations and laughter. She realized that everyone was staring at her. Glancing down, she realized her dress was too fine for a place such as this and she stuck out like a sore thumb. People eyed her silk gown and the jewels sewn into the bodice. She should’ve asked Tinkerbell to give her a more appropriate dress, something like the drab linens she saw on the barmaids circulating throughout the room.

           “What’s going on?” the man with the lion tattoo asked. His voice sounded a bit hoarse and he had an alluring accent she hadn’t heard before. She held her breath, waiting for him to speak again.

           The barkeep, an older man with gray hair and a lined face, motioned toward her with a rag in his hand. “A beautiful woman in a very fancy dress is staring at you, Rob.”

           “Very funny,” the man, Rob, said. “I’m gonna turn around and it’s gonna be Little John or something, right?”

           “Take a look,” the barkeep challenged him.

           Regina’s knees started to knock together as Rob turned around on his stool, his eyes widening as he spotted her. He stood, approaching her with wonder and awe, his lips twitching into a smile. “Hello,” he greeted her, a warmth in his voice she hadn’t heard in a long time.

           “Hi,” she replied softly. She studied her supposed soulmate—who stood a good head taller than her and was broad shouldered. Though he wore a loose linen shirt, she could tell that he was on the lean side and noticed how big his arm muscles were. He was someone who either performed manual labor or did some other work that kept him fit. She then noticed his soft and thick blond hair, cut close to his head though a few locks fell against his forehead. The color matched the scruff on his face, covering his cheeks and square jawline.

           But her favorite feature so far were his blue eyes. They gazed on her not with the lust of the king or the wide-eyed adoration of Snow White. Instead, they held a warmth to rival his voice and an openness. For the first time since Daniel, she believed he saw her—and not what he wanted her to be.

           He held out his hand to her. “May I buy you a drink, milady?”

           “Yes,” she said, taking it and relishing his strong but gentle grip as his fingers closed around her hand. “I would love to have a drink with you.”

To be continued...

[meetmeatmidnightsblog]

Chapter 1 Disclaimer I don't own any of the characters and or content that is going to be used in this story and all right belong to the writers and creators of once upon a time. “What do you want Regina?.” Regina stepped inside the dragon Queens home which was much smaller than the castle she once lived in. She looks into Maleficent jet black eyes which sparkle like coal. “I need you to do me a favor.” “I'm not in the mood for making deals with you.” “I know, but there's something much more that I can offer to you in return.” Maleficent takes a step closer to the reformed version of the evil queen she once knew, saw the radiant snow in her pure porcelain skin. “you are with child.” “indeed. The father of this child is with another woman who was branded to be with him because of the happy ending that they were granted.” “Let me guess… it's the forest smell pine of a thief who stole your heart and crushed it much like your mother did to Daniel all those years ago.” She choked down tears from the painful memories of her youth that triggered bloodbath, pure rage that ignited the birth of the evil queen. She did not want to go back to who she used to be, but this source of trust and protection was exactly what was needed to ensure her safety from a man she could never get away from no matter how hard they tried. “Yes….” “you poor little girl. I suppose that I could do this favor and keep it between us.” “Thank you Mal.” “there is a first time for everything.” “I knew that you of all people would understand.” “Being a mother was never in my cards but if you have a chance to be one than no one should ever stand in the way.” “whatever you do to them, promise me that nothing will harm my child.” “You have my word Regina.” Regina let's her breath go now that she has someone powerful on her side. No one would ever suspect that is teaming up with Maleficent. For far too long she played nice, went soft with those heroes and fell in love with someone that was destined for their own happy ending. Maleficent never liked the idea of owing anyone favors after they have wronged her in the worst ways. When it comes to Regina, she would do whatever it took because she was the only friend she had in this strange town that is filled with valiant heroes such as snow white and Prince charming, many others. The dark haired woman takes a seat in the sofa, and keeps her best friend close to make sure she is okay. She knew the suffering of a broken heart better than most. She used to sink low into the darkness, burnt out until this apprentice reminded her of who she really was. “pain always makes you stronger.” “Love is weakness, I was blinded by the false hopes and empty promises.” “Even Villians make mistakes because we like to try to break the rules and win.” “Villians never get happy endings.” “That maybe true, but that's never stopped you from getting you're revenge before.” “That's not who I am anymore.” “maybe you need me to show you the monster you really are.” “Sounds tempting but no we can't do that.” “Cruella is right for once. You my friend have truly gone soft.” “I had to change in order to survive.” “look where that got you.” Regina was tired of bickering with Mal even though most of it was true. She has gone soft, it's not like she had a choice. She needed to be better for her son Henry, he deserved better than the mother she had. She fought so hard to keep that relationship together, in the end she lost when Emma was granted full custody of him. “are we done here?.” “I'm I playing too rough for you Regina.” Maleficent knew how to get under Regina darkened skin until it boiled, spilled out of the pot. She was her idol after all when Rumple thought that she was seeking a teacher, not the other way around. She saw the black desires, cravings in those hazel pupils that used to seek out revenge no matter what the cost was. She was a legend, in the hall of fame as far as Villians went. “Why don't you tell me how this blessed child came to be.” Regina leans closer to Mal and whispers every little detail into her ear. “You nasty little girl.” She chuckles. “Third time's the charm outta do the trick.” “Looks like forest boy knows how to live up to his name.” Regina glances at the small wall clock that's hanging by the door. “I better get going before the uncharmings send there spawn of a daughter to your house.” “I'm not to worried about them.” Maleficent walks Regina to the door, waves goodbye before she heads back in. Regina makes her way over to the uncharmings apartment, picks Henry up for his overnights on the weekends. She smiles at her son, hugs him tightly, as he greets his other mom. “Hey Regina.” “Hello Henry. Are you ready to go?.” “Yup. Oh well I'm at you're house can we have another star wars marathon.” “Of course. Just as long as you promise to fit in some school work.” “I will.” Emma gives Henry a kiss on the forehead, sends him on his way. The two of them leave, Regina walks home in silence and thinks about the days when he used to live with her full time. Now she only gets to see him every other weekend. “How are you, Robin doing?.” “It's complicated.” “What do you mean?.” “I'm pregnant with his child but he can't know about it because he's honored and bound to stay with Marian.” “Regina, that's not fair. Robin deserves the right to know that you are carrying his child whether he is with Marian.” “No he doesnt Henry.” “Yes he does. You know I am right.” “Alright fine, Henry you are right. I don't know how to tell him okay.” “I understand.” “I don't want him to feel any more guilty than he already does.” “He won't.” “You don't know that.” “I won't understand everything that happens with you and Robin. One thing that my grandma has always taught me is when two people are meant to be together, they will find away.” “Look at where hope has gotten me.” Regina takes a deep breath, calms down her broken heart and pain before it blows up like a storm. Henry grabs his other mother's hand, holds it tightly so she knows that she is not alone in all of this. “You will be happy again Regina, we will find the author and make him change all of this.” “Villians never win.” “This time you will.” “Okay.”

[mystical-flute]

WIP Week Day 2: Favorite WIP

No one will be surprised by this, but my favorite WIP is Dark Fire.

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Ships: Snow White x Prince Charming, Emma Swan x Neal Cassidy (slow burn), Regina Mills x Captain Hook (slow burn), Belle x Rumplestiltskin, Will Scarlet x Anastasia

WC: 14,947 (6 chapters)

Chapter One is below the cut, but you can read the rest of the chapters here or here.

"Hook and I worked too hard to keep things the way they were, but I'm sorry, I can't save your son, as much as I loved him and wanted to. He died a hero! Don't take that away from him!" the blonde woman cried through her tears as she held tightly to his hand, the portal attempting to pull her in.

Rumpelstiltskin frowned and let her go, watching as the portal took her away. Back to the future, back to the Land Without Magic. To the place he himself would be going to in just over two years now.

He held the potion in his hand and looked at it with a frown. They had already restored things to how it should have been (in their own words of course). Apparently Snow White and Prince Charming had an interesting first meeting, which amused him greatly, but he couldn't get his mind off the words the woman said.

Baelfire died. Despite his best efforts, despite the vision Rumplestiltskin had had of his son enjoying a married life with a woman he couldn't make out clearly, Baelfire ended up dead. The woman hadn't said anything about Baelfire ever getting married, so something got screwed up along the way.

That woman was supposed to love Baelfire, and yet she let him die, begging him not to save his son. While apparently, his son had a son of his own. If there was a child involved, he needed his father. Baelfire needed to be there for his son, like Rumplestiltskin had not been there for him.

What harm would it cause to allow Baelfire to live?

What sort of parent would he be if he allowed Baelfire to die?

Rumplestiltskin needed to figure out a way out of this mess. Saving his son's life would help him repent for what he'd done to his son in the past. But how could he do it? How could he save his son?

Rumplestiltskin thought back to who he'd met in the past that might have had something against him. The list was long – longer than he would really like to admit – but there was really only one person that stuck out in his mind.

Zelena. The Wicked Witch of the West. Now that was a woman who would be prevented from doing what she wished. But he knew Regina would have to cast the curse… but he could find a way to stop Zelena from falling to the point of killing his son. He would be sure of it.

So Rumplestiltskin did the exact opposite of what "the Savior" asked him to do.

The potion shattered as he threw it to the ground, the liquid pooling around his feet as he breathed heavily, staring down at it.

Baelfire would live. He would be sure of it.

He just needed to find a way to contact Zelena to ah – encourage her to be on his side. Or at least, to get her to not kill his son.

He knew, of course, that it would be difficult. Zelena wasn't exactly the most stable person. But Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not a fighter when it came to Balefire.

"What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?" the green woman asked when he managed to get a hold of her through a magic mirror.

"A deal, dearie."

"Deal? What sort of deal and why should I make something with you after what you did to me?" Zelena asked, glaring into the glass.

"Because if you accept… I promise to make you powerful once your sister casts the curse," he said. "I can adjust the curse to make you beloved, to make you even more loved than your sister thinks she can be. I can give you everything you desire."

"Why should I help you?"

He could only smirk as he gazed into the mirror."You know I have visions, dearie. And I saw a vision of you."

Zelena's eyes narrowed slightly, but he could tell she was very interested in what he had to say. "Go on."

"And it seems that… in the future, you die. A very painful and brutal death, all because you harm someone that I love very much," he explained. "So, unless you wish to die a terrible death before you can get your revenge on those that wronged you, I suggest you take that deal."

"Can I ask you something?" Zelena suddenly said, breaking him from his thoughts. "Why did you choose Regina over me to cast this curse of yours?"

"It's like I told you, dearie. Regina has someone she loves. Her father. She doesn't know it yet, of course, but her father will be sacrificed to cast the curse. You, on the other hand…"

"I don't have a person I love most besides myself."

"Exactly, and I doubt you'd want to cast a curse which requires you to die before you can see your handy work done."

Her face remained stoic, but Rumplestiltskin could see the fear and anger in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to fight. "What deal is it you want to make?" she finally asked.

"You leave my friends and family alone, and you won't die. And I'll make sure you have the glory you desire when your sister casts the curse."

Zelena pondered this for a moment. "Really? You will? What sort of power will I have if she's the one in charge of the curse?"

"Leave that to me. Now… do we have a deal?"

"Very well, Rumplestiltskin. You have a deal."

The imp giggled. "Good. That way, we both get what we want."

"Ah. Can I add something to this deal?" Zelena asked.

He frowned and looked at her with a tilt of his head. "I believe I am the one who makes these deals, Zelena. I already gave you a way to survive. What more do you need?"

"Dorothy. I want her cursed. If Regina gets to take revenge on Snow White, I should be able to take revenge on Dorothy after everything she's put me through here in Oz. Can you do that?" There was desperation in her voice. The exact sort of tone Rumplestiltskin absolutely loved to deal with.

He smirked in the mirror. What harm would it cause to himself to allow Dorothy to come with them to the Land Without Magic? Besides, it might make Zelena even more unwilling to have his son be killed. "Very well, dearie. If you can somehow get her to the Enchanted Forest when your sister casts the curse, she will be swept away in it with the rest of us."

"Thank you. Very well, Rumplestiltskin, you have a deal."

----------

Emma screamed as she was ripped through the portal back to what she hoped was the Storybrooke she remembered. She hoped she wouldn't have lost anything or anyone she loved. As much as she wanted to have been raised by her family, she knew screwing up the timeline would be worse. Especially because she and Hook would have been the only two who knew what the truth was, in a town, or maybe a world, filled with people who thought something different.

She grunted as she landed hard on the barn floor. Why could traveling through portals never come with an airbag? Or a mattress?

"Swan, are you alright?" Hook asked as he helped her stand up. Marian was standing fearfully in the corner. Clearly shocked at where she was.

"I – yeah I'm fine. God I'm so glad to be home," she said, her eyes widening as the word settled. "Home. I'm home. This is where I belong – where Henry and I belong. God… I have to go make sure everyone's okay!"

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced off to Granny's, ignoring Hook and Marian as she ran.

Storybrooke, to her relief, looked exactly the same. The shops and restaurants were familiar and looked as they should. The people were the same – from what she could see, and she burst into Granny's, relief flooding her as everyone that had been at the party before she went back in time was there. The 'Welcome Baby Boy' sign was hanging above it as it had when she left. Good. Good.

"Emma, did you have enough time to yourself?" her mother asked, holding her baby brother close. Her father was standing up, talking to Red, and Henry was rushing over to her. Everything looked normal. Thank goodness.

"Oh – yeah of course. I'm fine. I'm sorry I ever thought I needed to go back to New York. Being back in time… well, it made me realize where home really is. It's here, with you."

"We're not going back to New York?" Henry asked, smiling with relief.

"No kid – or, not forever because I'm sure there's some stuff you want to bring back here. We're staying here. We're home. Mom… Dad… I'm sorry, I missed you," she said with a relieved sigh as she fell into her parents, her little brother in between them. Hook and Marian slipped into the diner, and she heard the shocked cry from Robin Hood, but ignored it as Snow spoke.

"Oh sweetheart, we missed you too," Snow replied with a smile. "Now come on, sit down so your father and I can announce your brother's name."

Emma did so quickly, eagerly as she looked up at her parents.

Her father tapped a spoon against his glass to get everyone's attention, with a smile. "Snow and I wanted to thank all of you for supporting us through the pregnancy and for joining us tonight. It means the world to us."

"Ladies and gentlemen of Storybrooke. We would like to introduce you to our son… Prince Leo."

The diner erupted into applause.

Emma smiled and reached over, stroking the back of Leo's hand. "Welcome to the world, Leo…" she said softly, smiling up at her parents. "You seemed… more happy to see me than normal."

"Well, the Dark One is still out there. We were worried he might have hurt you."

Emma looked over at Rumplestiltskin, sitting with Belle, Will Scarlet, and Anastasia Tremaine, and frowned. "He's right there and we haven't done anything against him. Why would he hurt me?"

Henry and her parents balked, then frowned in concern.

"Emma… Rumplestiltskin isn't the Dark One. He hasn't been since he sacrificed himself for us during Pan's curse," her mother said with a look of alarm. "You know that."

Emma paled. Something had been changed. But how?

She looked over at Rumplestiltskin again, who was now stepping over to her, leaning heavily on the cane she hadn't seen since the curse broke. "You. You didn't drink that potion to make you forget about Hook and I."

"Quite right, Miss Swan," he said, looking like he had no regrets.

"Why?"

"Because what sort of parent would I be if I let my son die? What would you have done in my position? Although it didn't exactly go the way I'd thought…"

The door opened, and Emma looked up, an unmistakable sign of darkness in the man at the door, a dagger attached to his hip.

Her heart stopped.

"Neal?!"

He looked over at her, a dark grin on his face. "Sorry I'm late."

[miladylocksley]

Not Unless You Wish It, Ch. 6

Robin, still recovering from the death of his wife, mistakenly steals a lamp from the King and releases the genie trapped inside. A woman. A stunning, captivating, and heartbroken woman. He vows to help her escape her prison and find happiness, not knowing that his own is closer than he realizes.

Stable Queen + Outlaw Maiden flashbacks. 

Previous chapters

ff.net

It felt like waking up from a deep slumber. From a curse. Like he’d been asleep for years without knowing it. Like he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t see his life unfold and go on without waiting for him to catch up. All he knew was everyone else kept on living and he was trapped, waiting for transport to take him where he needed to go. He couldn’t focus on the words, all he heard was noise, sharp ringing noise, muffled screams that pushed him forward. And he went, without thought or direction. He survived.

But now his eyes were wide open. He could see and hear and breathe again. And what he saw was his son running around the camp trying to dodge a mythical monster. He saw him dancing late in the evenings when the wine found his men fancying themselves musicians. He heard his honeyed laugh. His sweet voice begging for stories of his father’s scariest heists. He felt his son’s hand in his when he walked him to Regina’s tent. And his arms around his neck before each goodnight.

It had taken a few weeks, but he was now a father in more than just name. And blessedly, his son seemed to view him as such too. He was eager to share his meals with him, to go with him to redistribute stolen wealth to the neighbouring villages (seeing the people praising Robin certainly went a long way to earning Roland’s trust and affection), to help him knit his clothes (he had become a promising student under Granny’s tutelage and took great pleasure in watching Robin try and follow Tuck’s instructions).

When his bedtime came, Roland would ask about his mother. How Robin had met her, how they’d fallen in love, how much they’d wanted him. How she’d died.

Such tales deserved retelling, so she could stay alive in them if not otherwise.

He walked in the woods, a half-enthusiastic whistle at his lips’ tips and an apple between his fingers, looking for any excuse not to go home. His mother hadn’t asked where he was going. She was used to his escapades to the forest. To the only place he felt like himself, without constricting clothes or stiff manners, silly traditions or bitten tongues. Here, he could be free. He could run.

And run he did, over rocks and under branches, he ran along rivers in plain sight and between the trees’ shadows. He ran uninterrupted and without care. No one could stop him. No one ever had.

Until today.

He stopped his pursuit abruptly, stumbling — almost falling over his feet — in front of a young woman. A beautiful young woman. Despite her tear-stained cheeks. He tried approaching gently, but she’d heard his ungraceful entrance and looked up at him not in surprise, but in anger.

So she knew who he was. And he knew who was no doubt to blame for her tears. Whatever she’d lost — her crops, her livestock, or her home — he had benefitted from it.    

Robin always told Roland the same thing. It hadn’t been love at first sight. It hadn’t been the epic forbidden tale one recognized from bedtime stories. But, by gods, if it hadn’t been the greatest story he’d ever lived. Even if it was too short.

He’d always dreamed of leaving his parents’ manor. He would imagine escaping into the night with nothing but the dark clothes on his back and running towards a better future. He would imagine there was a long lost family that would find him after years of searching for him but being kept hidden and away for shocking and secretive reasons, take him in, and teach him all the things his parents had deprived his childhood of. Maybe he would finally have someone to go fishing with, climb trees and rooftops, play with swords rather than practice with them. Maybe he would have friends.

But there hadn’t been anyone to rescue him. For a long time, he thought Marian had been the one that saved him from his miserable life. That she’d taken him away and he’d gladly accepted. It all sounded terribly romantic; the brave and fair maiden who’d shown the wealthy lonely boy all that life could offer beyond the walls of his prison.

He’d liked to think his life hadn’t really begun until he’d met her. And that, without her, he never would have had the courage to leave. He used to think so. But now, he knew that had always been his choice. She certainly didn’t push him towards it. In the beginning, she’d have gladly walked away from his acquaintance without glancing back. Really, she had been the spark he’d waited for to finally take that final step. The glimmer of hope that, should he leave, he could find something good and wonderful. Even before any illusion that they might have a future together had entered his mind, he’d decided that he would leave if only for the promise of a love that his parents had always told him he couldn’t afford.

They had been wrong. And Robin being a parent himself, that wasn’t a lesson he intended to pass down to his son. Not much that his parents had taught him was worth repeating.  He’d love nothing more than for Roland to have the same opportunities that Robin had growing up. The opportunities, but without the restrictions. Knowing what he now knew, having experienced all that he did, Robin could have done so much with all that wealth at his feet had his parents been just a touch less greedy. He could have been like those wise and just lords one learned about from history books.

Maybe his son could be.

And Robin could show him. He wouldn’t be like his parents. He’d be the father he had wished for too long he could have had.

(Still did.)

He hadn’t thought he would have a legacy. That dream had died with Marian. To be able to desire such things again, to have this second chance, was too good a wish come true. He had a responsibility to make the most of it.

He was blessed to have his son. He wanted nothing more than for Roland to feel the same about him. And they were getting there. Slowly, but surely.

At present, Roland was with Will, his hands raised towards the sky and the stars reflected in his eyes when he spotted him and merrily ran into his arms. Robin couldn’t help but kiss his chubby cheeks whenever he had the chance until his son squeaked with laughter.

“What have you lads been doing?” Robin asked, his arms tightly wrapped around Roland’s legs.    

“Learning about the stars,” Roland replied, still a little breathless. “But I don’t think Will tells it right. He calls all the stars Anastasia.”

“He does,” Robin accepted easily.  

“Why?” his son asked, appalled that anyone could look at something and see it for anything other than what it appeared to be.

“Because when he sees something that beautiful, he can’t help but think of her,” Robin understood too well.

“Like you and Mama?” Roland said after a moment, surely not comprehending the meaning behind his words.

“Yes, my boy,” Robin realized. Sleeping under the stars always comforted him because he knew Marian was guiding him. “The stars, they remind us that wherever we are, someone is always watching over us. Protecting us.”

“Can I name the stars too?”

“Of course,” Robin smiled. Who keeps you safe?

“One for Granny. You and Mama,” Roland said. “And Regina.”

Regina.

The woman who already made him feel so much in such a short amount of time. Some days he wanted to tell her just how much she meant to him. Not just as the genie who’d changed his life, but as the woman he imagined himself having a future with. Something he’d never dreamed he’d find again.

Except it was madness. He barely knew her, or she, him. There was so much left unsaid between them. Yet, he couldn’t help but think that anything she’d share with him would only make him care for her more.

He’d never felt this sort of certainty.

“Have come to take more from us?” she reprimanded. “Soon, you won’t find anything.”

“You know I had nothing to do with that,” Robin insisted.

“Do I?”

“I’ve told you before, my parents rule this land, not I.”

“And I suppose that makes you blameless? Your parents can raise taxes, keep the products of our labours for themselves, demand boys to groom into soldiers and you just watch it happen. You keep coming back here to witness our suffering, you say you hate it and you think your quiet rebellion makes you sympathetic and one of us, but it doesn’t. You’re not like us. Because you could do something about it if you truly wanted to.”

“I don’t know what I can do,” he admitted desperately, feeling more ashamed of himself then he’d ever had all the times his parents had made their disappointment known.

Marian had been defiant and had made him question himself more than a young man on the cusp of adulthood liked to think about.

He’d hated her for it. Until he loved her for it.

And when he’d been off that path — the one he and Marian had chosen — Regina had come along to remind him. Like destiny. He wanted so much to help her, to take her away from a life she despised, and she ended up being the one to save him.

Which was why he couldn’t tell her how he felt. He shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Not when his heart hadn’t healed, not when he couldn’t offer her what she deserved. He wasn’t equipped to take care of her heart. Not anymore (no matter how desperately he might want to.) And maybe her heart was just the same? Maybe she had lost and that had left it shattered beyond repair. Maybe they were two tragic souls doomed to wander alone with only the memory of a feeling worth living for.

He was happy just to be her friend. And her contender for his son’s affections.

She was so good with Roland. She’d lived for centuries, he often wondered, had she ever had a family? Not her mother — who by her own accounts didn’t seem the maternal sort — but a family of her own? Had she ever wanted one? He remembered Regina telling him that once he saw Marian dying he could never take it back — how right she had been — and she had looked trapped in memories of her own. She’d known loss, surely a lot more than he had. But had she given up on hope altogether?  

It wouldn’t seem so by observing her with Roland. Then again, he was sure she knew that whatever dalliance she formed here was only temporary. No matter how he wished it was otherwise.

He had wishes to make. He couldn’t keep her here against her will. And if she couldn’t stay, then he couldn’t let her linger. Roland couldn’t say goodbye to yet another person he loved. It had already gone on too far; his son would be devastated. Still, Robin wouldn’t dream of keeping him away from her. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

He hoped Roland would understand.

He hoped Regina would stay.

He hoped.

.:.

A few of the men had gone hunting and she’d stayed behind with the rest. Tuck was busy washing some cloaks, Ed and Garland were acting out their last heist and very narrow escape like children, and Will was with the only actual child in the camp. Roland seemed entranced as he watched the sky. Regina remembered learning about all its wonders when she was younger. Her mother had never understood her fascination with them; they had magic, why on earth would we use stars to navigate? Such a waste of time, she used to say.  

She hadn’t imagined that Regina had longed to need the stars.  

Daniel had been the one to show her all about them. Everything he’d learned from her father. The stable boy hadn’t been blessed with title or fortune, but with a master kind enough to teach him more than he’d dared dream of. While Regina was being groomed by her mother to become one of the most powerful genies of the age (but never quite as powerful as Cora was), Daniel was being tutored and learning things Regina remained ignorant of. Things more magical than all the spells Regina mastered.

But whenever Regina had been allowed to visit her father, she and Daniel would meet. They would talk and play, he’d teach her how to ride a horse and to swordfight (a game which she’d been only too delighted to show Emma). He’d been her best friend.

The horses were tied to a tree as the two were lying on the grass exhausted and sweaty from the exercise. Her clothes were dirty and her hair in disarray, but she couldn’t stop laughing. She always loved it here. She never wanted to leave.

“When do you go back?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” she replied, her smile gone and her eyes watery.

Daniel turned to his side looking at her with a similar expression. All these years of friendship and it never became easier to say goodbye. “Why can’t you stay longer?”

“Mother thinks Daddy is a bad influence on me. That whenever I go back there I am obstinate and impatient with a wicked tongue. She thinks Daddy must be poisoning me against her.”

“I don’t think you need any help with that,” he teased.

Regina turned, facing him, her smile returning. “And really we both know who is actually responsible for my rebellious behavior,” she winked.

“You have plenty of fire without needing me to ignite it,” he said, his tone too serious for what Regina intended. “One day, you’ll be the Queen and you won’t be able to come back here.”

She wanted to tell him that she would. She’d never leave him. But he was right, he was always right. She might become the Queen, but while her mother was alive, she’d be the Queen of nothing. The figurehead while Cora made all the decisions. Just like she always had.        

“Maybe I don’t have to be Queen,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel scoffed.

“I’m not!” she replied indignantly. “I’m serious. I can leave.”

“No, you can’t,” he said as though he were talking down a child from doing something way beyond his capabilities.

“Yes, I can,” she insisted angrily.

“Your mother would never let you,” he reminded her.

“She wouldn’t know. We could leave in the night while she doesn’t suspect a thing and be already far enough away by the time she does,” Regina said desperately trying to believe such a feat was possible.

“We?” Daniel asked, losing all previous derision and wearing something akin to hope on his face.

“Wouldn’t you want to come with me?” she asked suddenly afraid.

“You know I’d go anywhere with you,” he answered sweetly. “But what about your friends? Your father?”

Regina thought of Emma then. She would miss her terribly, but Emma had her mother (a woman who took great delight in teaching them how to manipulate her favorite element and create winter, a woman who’d been more of a mother to Regina than Cora ever was) and her friends who Regina had never been very close to (for that was the price of being Cora’s daughter), and she had Neal. Emma would understand. As would her father.

“Daddy would want me to be happy. He knows how she is. He knows it would be best for me to get away from her. With you.” She already knew how to take care of the horses, but Daniel could show her how to hunt, prepare food, and build shelter. They could live in the woods for all she cared.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I want you.”  

He’d been her best friend. Until he’d become much more.

Seeing Roland with Robin now, she wondered how different her life would have been had she managed to escape with Daniel. Would they have married? Would they have had children?  

She’d certainly thought about it. She had been ready to give up her power, her immortality for the chance to give a child of theirs a normal life. But after he’d died, she hadn’t wanted it. Regina had realized then that she could never be normal. And when they’d started enslaving her friends, she didn’t want to be. She was proud of her magic. She needed her magic. And if she remained a genie, having loved ones only meant saying goodbye too many times.

Soon, she’d have to say goodbye to these people too. The merry men had become her reluctant companions; on rare — yet more frequent than she was used to — occasions, they made her smile and forget her worries, at night with the music and their loud boasts, her nightmares remained at bay. Roland had taken to her fast and she’d come to care for him just as quickly.

And there was Robin.

Robin who had sneaked into her heart like the magnificent thief he was reputed to be. He saw her for the woman she was — the woman she wanted to be — rather than the one she disguised herself as.  

And yet, surprisingly, the reason he knew her so well already was because she allowed him to. In ways she hadn’t with very many people.

She’d hate to lose that.

She’ll hate it.

.:.

Roland was sleeping — still in Regina’s tent, but now he managed to fall asleep without her there, as long as she was in the morning — and Robin had spread a blanket down by the fire on which he was presently lying, one leg over the other, his arms behind his head. It was a quiet night; a plan had been made for a robbery in the morning so they had to have clear heads and sharp wits.

Regina was seating across the fire surrounded by loads of his friends, all entranced by her no doubt. It made him smile to see how at peace she seemed and how much she belonged. There’d be no dry eyes the day she’d leave.

She smiled more freely now. He’d feel a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t the only one anymore allowed to admire it, but he felt incomparable happiness at the thought that this place was a place that made her feel safe. And free. If only a little.

If only she could be truly free, would she stay? Would she find a purpose here?

When Robin had run away from his home, he had done so in order to steal from rich and noble families like his own and give back to the villages they exploited. He’d run away with quite a few silver pieces. His father had sent guards after him, but his searches had been neither long nor rigorous — Robin suspected his mother had had something to do with that, that she’d pleaded with her husband to let their son go.

His parents we never overly ambitious, they didn’t feel the need to climb the social ladder all the way to the top, and they hadn’t bothered much with who their son turned out to be. They were happy to live comfortably without too much exertion and running around looking for Robin evidently required more effort than they’d wanted to spare. Not to mention they’d needed to quiet the whispers and stop the pursuit by inventing a tragic accident and letting people move on to the next scandal.

He didn’t complain. For it had allowed him to find meaning in his actions, in the people he helped. And with Roland by his side, he was starting to live for that noble purpose once more.

From what Regina had told him, genies had a similar mission. To help where help was needed rather than demanded. He saw the look on her face when they visited the villages. A similar look to the one she wore when Roland greeted her. Would she be unhappy once the time came to leave them? He didn’t want her to be. But was it cruel to wish she would miss them as much as they would surely miss her?      

.

.

.

The flap of his tent opened slowly and revealed a faint shape. Dark hair blended with the night sky, only a white flowing dress could be seen before she stepped further inside and the candlelight shone on her face. She took a hesitant step forward, unsure if she should be allowed in. What a ridiculous notion. He was seated on his cot, tired limbs and tired eyes, but just seeing her, having her close, was restoring his energy.

She’d never been in here before and seeing her now he was very aware of how small his accommodations were. And how close she was standing to him. How private — intimate — it all seemed surrounded by darkness, a single light shining on.  A single light enveloping them. A single glimmer of hope.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“No. Neither can you,” she pointed out, having seen the light coming from inside his tent as she was walking around the camp. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

He laughed. “No, I don’t get worried. We’re the best.”

“Of course, how silly of me,” she chuckled. “Then, what’s troubling you?”

“I’m thinking about all this,” he explained. “Stealing, redistributing. It’s not really a long-term solution, is it? We can’t possibly do it forever,” he was beginning to realize.

“I guess not,” she agreed.

“I want to help,” he said.

“Your people?”

“Them. Everyone. I’ve seen too much suffering, and I’m sure you have too knowing the King as you do. They think they can do anything if it benefits them, never mind that they’re not the ones putting in the effort. I steal and the people survive. But I want them to live.”

“I can give your people gold, Robin. I can’t create it from thin air, it has to come from somewhere, but we could find it. But it’s never going to be enough.”

“What will then?” he asked.

“You tell me. They are your people,” she pointed out.

“They are my parents’ people.” He scoffed, “not that they care.”

“But you do. You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. I know you’ve convinced yourself that you’re only helping to clear your conscience,” she said before he could argue, “but that’s not true. You were doing this long before. The people know who you are. They know you care. You, not your parents. They are your people. Your son’s people someday.”  

“You gave up everything for me,” she said.

“Not really. I had nothing before I met you,” he admitted.

“And now?”

“Now I feel like the luckiest man in all of Sherwood. You and our men and the work we do, I have everything I need.”

“Everything? There isn’t anything else you’d wish?” she asked.

He tilted his head, looked at her frowning because, with her by his side, he couldn’t see what was missing. Until she took his hand and placed it on her flat stomach. One which, by her grin, wouldn’t remain so for long. “Truly?” he whispered in awe.

Marian nodded, her eyes shining and her sobs making it impossible to offer a proper answer. He laughed and took her in his arms, twirling and twirling, their foreheads close, almost touching, and half kissing, half smiling. He couldn’t imagine a day ever being as good as this one.

Regina was right. He didn’t believe he was doing this simply to ease his guilty mind. Not anymore. He wanted so badly to change his people’s lives. But that would take time. And many more resources than he had access to as a common thief.

“I want my son to have Locksley,” he decided. “I want to raise him to put his people first. I want him to be fair and become the lord my father never was.”

“Why not you?”  

He shook his head. “I never wanted that life.”

“What if your son doesn’t either?” she challenged.

“Then he can choose not to. But I want him to be given a choice.” His parents would never agree. Not unless they could model Roland in their image. “When I ran away, they took the title away from me. Away from any children that I might have.”

“You want it back, your title.”

“Yes.”

“But you do realize that if we do get it back and your parents,” she hesitated, “have to relinquish it before your son is of age, you’ll be the one ruling Locksley. Something you said you didn’t want to do.”

“I want my son to be the heir. Not me,” he said. “But if the situation arises and he is too young to take on the role, then I shall help him,” he was convinced, “I won’t mind doing it so long as I know I’ll be showing him how to be just and kind. So long as I know I will be leaving the land in the right hands.”

Roland shouldn’t be denied his birthright because of his father. Robin was determined that he should have every opportunity available to him.

With those words, another wish had been made. Another wish closer to Regina’s impending departure.

[robinhoodrevisited]

Power To The People (pt.4)

Nottingham Castle. The Great Hall. (Clarke stands before her uncle, her wrists still tied and mouth gagged. The Prince stares at her with an anguished look on his face before speaking.) Prince John: "Do you even want to be Queen? The Church will never accept you, you have no allies politically and above all you're a woman!" (The Prince walks forward and tugs Clarke's gag down.) Clarke: "If it means preventing you from becoming King then I will gladly take the throne. As for the church, I think the Archbishop is on my side." Prince John: "As soon as I’m King that old fool will be replaced." Clarke: (Shakes her head:) "Even if he did agree to make you King, the church isn't your only obstacle." Prince John: (Sneering:) "Ah yes, your savage friends. You think the Commander can stop me?" Clarke: "If it comes to that, I know she will." (They watch each other for a long moment without speaking. Then the Prince throws up his arms.) Prince John: (In a whiney tone:) "But you don't even act like Royalty. You even prefer to be called by your pseudonym now." Clarke: "Clarke is who I am, who I've become since you hunted me like an animal. Which you wouldn't have done in the first place if you didn't realise that my claim to the throne is stronger than yours." Prince John: (Raging:) "Your claim means nothing! You collude with outlaws and swear fealty to the Celts! No, I am the leader England needs and everything is falling into place. (Begins to walk past her:) Make no mistake, Clarke, I shall be King." (The Prince strides from the room.)

Joan's Camp. (Carter bows his head as the body of King Richard is laid out before him. Joan kneels crying beside the body vowing her revenge.) Joan: "I am not yet defeated, I vow before my brother's body that his death will be avenged. (Turning to her son:) And I swear that you, Richard, one day will be King. (To Carter:) Prepare the body to be moved. We leave for Loughborough immediately.” Sherwood Forest. (Djaq and Will are returning from their scouting mission, Djaq in disbelief.) Djaq: "A wedding? The country is amidst a civil war and Prince John plans a wedding?" Will: "To Isabella no less. I never thought I'd see the day she'd agree to marry again. Not after Thornton." Djaq: "Perhaps it's fitting? For a woman like Isabella, marriage would be a fate worse than death." (Hoofbeats can be heard approaching and Djaq & Will quickly disappear into the woods. The Black Elite ride after them. They run through a meadow. Will & Djaq, holding hands, jump into a short ravine. The horsemen slow and stop at the edge, unable to follow.)

Sherwood Forest. (The forest is in uproar as news of the Prince's elite guard spreads.) Little John: “I’ll see if the road’s clear.” Robin: “We’re making it too easy for them. We have to split up.” Much: “Split up? We should stick together!” Robin: “Listen to me. We’ve got Prince John’s elite guards after us.” (Little John comes back.) Little John: “They’re closing in.” Robin: “I’ll lead them away.” Marian: “No, you won’t.” Robin: (Turns back.) “I’ll be fine.” Marian: “Robin, you’re supposed to be dead, remember? And you would be if not for Nyko’s antidote. Let’s just head back to the tunnels and wait them out.” Robin: “There’s no time, we need to scatter right now!” Marian: (Grabs Robin tightly:) “And we will but you’re staying hidden. (To the gang:) Listen, Djaq, Will, go north, take the cliff road. Allan, Much, go west through the marshes.“ Little John: “I’ll go east.” Marian: (Nods:) “Good man.” (The gang start to go their separate ways as soldiers appear on the rocks above them and all around them.) Robin: (Ducking behind a tree:) “Damn. It’s Blamire, he’s still alive.” Much: “And leading the Prince’s elite guard by the looks of things.”

(As the gang are distracted by Blamire and his men, the villagers take it upon themselves to surround the outlaws.) Allan: (Noticing:) "What the...?" Bertha: (Stepping forward:) "You lot aren't going anywhere. If you run the Prince's men will capture you all. You've all put your lives on the line for these folk dozens of times. Now it's our turn to return the favour." (Robin and the gang look on confused as the villagers move to encircle the outlaws, effectively hiding them from view.) Djaq: "We’ve been herded!" Much: "Like sheep." Robin: (Dubiously:) "Or like lambs... to the slaughter." Bertha: "Shh. Quiet, trust me." Little John: "This is not going to work." Bertha: "Just keep your heads down. (Bertha frowns and a horse neighs in the distance as the Black Elite approach. It’s a splinter group, not led by Blamire. The sergeant hands off his shield, dismounts and approaches Bertha. Bertha smiles grandly and slyly, a hand on one hip.) How can I help you, officer?” Elite Guard: “Name... and purpose in this forest.” Bertha: “I see, straight to business, is it? Suit yourself. (Arms out.) I’m Bertha, of Bertha’s Circus Maximus. (Turns to the right.) These are my gladiators... (turns to the left) ... my little band of helpers, and my audience.” (The guard looks over all the faces, The gang keep their heads down.) Elite Guard: “Why are you all gathered in the forest?“ (Steps forward. Bertha puts a hand to the guard’s chest.) Bertha: “I don’t ask questions dearie I just go where the people are. We were on our way to Nottingham when we came across all these fine men and women here in the woods. My men and I thought it was odd ourselves to tell the truth.” Elite Guard: (To the villagers:) “Begone, all of you. The forest is no place for you to be today.” (Walks back to his horse.) Bertha: “I was getting that impression already, but thank you for the advice.” (The guard mounts, takes back his shield and they all leave.)

Allan: (Impressed:) "Now that was some serious blagging." Robin: "That just bought us some time, but they'll be back." Marian: (To the villagers:) "Thank you, all of you. That was... very brave." Little John: (To Bertha:) "Thank you...erm..." Bertha: (Steps to Little John and spreads her arms wide, presenting herself.) "Bertha of Bath. (Little John nods and looks away, not knowing the name. Impatiently:) Of Bertha’s Circus Maximus... famous from Huddersfield to Haltemprice? (Little John shakes his head. Puts hands on hips. In disbelief:) Where you been?" Little John: "Here, mainly." Bertha: "Well you may not've heard of me but my men and I have certainly heard of Robin Hood. Talk about famous!" Marian: (Curious:) "What brings you here, Bertha?" Bertha: "I haven't been in these parts since the old Sheriff ran me out of town. I'd heard old Vaisey had finally died, so I thought we'd head back here." Marian: (Glances at Robin:) "Ah. Well it's a long story but Vaisey is still Sheriff and very much alive." Allan: "Back from the dead if you like." Bertha: "Oh." Robin: "I don't think you could've chosen a worse time to return to Nottingham." Marcus: "Not necessarily. (He walks over to Robin & Bertha:) I think Bertha and her particular brand of entertainment could be just what we need to sneak into the town." (Robin gives Marcus a confused look as Bertha flashes the man in black an appreciative smile.) Nottingham Castle. Great Hall. (The merchants have been assembled, and they’re whispering amongst themselves when the door under the balcony squeaks open and the Sheriff enters, taking off his gloves.) Guard: “The merchants are here as per your instructions, sir.” (The Sheriff walks through the people.) Sheriff: “Yes, I can see that. Let’s get on with it. (Addressing merchants:) Thank you for coming on such short notice. (Stands behind the table.) I have been given the task of arranging a wedding for our future King and his bride. (Lays gloves down on table and looks up.) Now, seeing as I don't know the first thing about weddings, I thought I'd call on your varied expertise to make both the church and reception look enchanting. (The merchants look at each other.) And, because this is for Prince John, you will all wave your fees. Unless of course… (sits) … anybody has a problem with that."

Nottingham Castle. Isabella's Chamber. (Clarke is brought to Isabella's room by two guards whom Isabella dismisses with a nod of her head. As the door closes behind them, Isabella walks forward and draws her knife. Clarke tenses for a second before Isabella brings the knife down between Clarke's restraints and cuts the Princess free.) Isabella: "How're you feeling?" Clarke: (Raises an eyebrow:) "Considering I've been captured and brought to the castle twice in as many days, not great." Isabella: (Nods:) "We need to get you out of here. I can hide you, sneak you out of the castle while the Prince is distracted by the wedding preparations." Clarke: (Folding her arms:) "Personally escorted by you I suppose? You're planning to run." Isabella: "I can't stay here. If I do I'll have gone from Sheriff to spouse and I won't return to that life again - I cannot do it!" Clarke: (Smirks:) "Sounds like quite the predicament. If only people had warned you about choosing the wrong side." Isabella: "I have the money and means to disappear. Vaisey will aid my escape, he wishes to see me married to the Prince as much as I do." Clarke: (Scoffs:) "Your escape plan involves trusting Vaisey? Now I know you're desperate." Isabella: "Think what you want of me but we're the same, Clarke. We're both survivors." Clarke: "Your method of survival is sickening. You lie and manipulate people to get what you want. You've betrayed everyone in your life and you're still going to end up running. (Shakes her head:) No, I have people out there coming for me, people who are depending on me to stop the Prince once and for all. If there's even a sliver of a chance of that happening I'm not going anywhere. (As Isabella glowers at Clarke:) You and I are nothing alike."

[journeyintowriting]

Dude In Distress? Gender Swaps in Modern Big Action Film

While watching ‘Kong: Skull Island’ I noticed something odd. Then I thought back to ‘The Force Awakens‘...

I’m a fan of action films. I’m also a rabid feminist. Feminism meaning that I support equality across the board for all sexes, not eliminating the male role. Of course this meant deeply searching for that female role where she’s usually 1) the love interest, 2) will die, 3) is motivation for the male protagonist to leap into action, 4) if she’s an independent woman she will become dependent on him at some point. Or, she’s eye candy. Marian from Raiders of the Lost Ark and Leia from Star Wars were my biggest role models while growing up. Marian could stand toe-to-toe with the bad guys, fight, drink, swear, remind Indy who was really the boss, and manage to knock the top Nazi off of his high horse. However, she gets captured several times spurring Indy to come to the rescue. Leia’s quick tongue and no-nonsense quickly puts her in charge of the situation while being a gun-wielding princess. My type of gal! While slaying ruthless gang leaders in controversial gold bikinis and coming to her boyfriend’s rescue (only to get caught), she also falls prey to the female action role. She has to be rescued a few times, falls for the scruffy nerf herder who isn’t the ideal boyfriend, and in many of the key fights she is not there. Awesome ladies, but still being forced to follow the action lady role. Even female leads in action films like Laura Croft and Resident: Evil, while not usually having a male to lean on, does fall into the other cringe-worthy role of Eye Candy. Tight and little clothing showing off every curve in outfits that don’t even begin to be practical for a fight with camera shots purely for aesthetic reasons. While there might be an exception with Kill Bill and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, women in action films seemed to be destined for two roles: Damsel in Distress or Eye Candy. Or often both. Then to add insult to injury, the women playing these roles get asked the most boring and useless questions.

Then I watched Skull Island.

This wasn’t the first film to catch my attention. The first was Crimson Peak. While not action, Gothic is a genre with clear role rules. So while the beginning of the film clearly had each character following their role, that very much changed by the end. In fact, swapped. The two male leads had taken on traditional female roles while the two female leads taking on traditional male roles. A few key phrases from Lucille and Thomas signaled that something was different. Then with the men spurring the women on to do heroic deeds (including a key death which, after thinking about it, made me laugh so hard my friends were wondering what was wrong with me) and the women having one of the most epic fights ever; I instantly fell in love with this movie. I even used it on a paper in my Gothic Lit class to show the definition of character roles that my professor loved.

The Force Awakens was the next film to catch my eye, and this time with Rey and Finn. I love Rey. I love Rey do pieces. I have a poster of her on my wall. I connected with her instantly, which was a strange feeling because I don’t normally connect with the female roles. She is the protagonist, and is treated as such. She swats the guy’s hand away, rescues herself on many occasions, can defend herself, allows herself to be emotional when she wants to and then USES THAT EMOTION TO HER STRENGTH, and she is right in the thick of the fight coming to Finn’s rescue. Finn, while also a key protagonist as he follows his own hero’s journey, relies on Rey’s skills and support. He, interestingly enough, becomes the rare Dude in Distress. Where is he during the climatic fight at the end? Knocked out. Put in a glass container like Snow White. While I’m all for Finn/Poe to happen, I was surprised by the writers who let this story happen. It was a pleasant surprise that shouldn’t be a surprise.

Before I go on, a quick definition. MY definition of an Eye Candy role is as following: a character with the sole reason of being there is for an audience’s sex appeal. Ways to spot: few lines with usually lower vocab and sentence length, strategic body placement, even more strategic clothes displacement/tightness/placement, slow motion shot of them moving in a physical way, up close shots of body parts usually in slow motion, CAN EASILY BE TAKEN OUT OF THE STORY AND THE STORY STILL STANDS. They don’t have to be all of these points and there can be more. But the main one to remember is their reason for being on screen is to get an audience to come watch the film for usually physical reasons.

An honorable mention goes to Ghostbusters. The new one. Yes, the one with the girls. Hate all you want, I love that movie. It’s fun! It’s women in action! It’s positive female relationships! It’s Chris Hemsworth doing his thing! We have FOUR badass ladies being the intelligent, funny women that they are. THEY’RE NORMAL. SO RARE. And, we have an even rarer Dude in Distress/Eye Candy role. They even make fun of that in the film! He’s there for the ladies to rescue (after becoming possessed and therefore helpless) and there are more than enough jokes about him being attractive. Side note: I personally think Chris had been really paying attention to a close cast member of a different franchise during the time Kevin is possessed. From the actions, the speech, and even the smirk; it reminded me of another character.

Now, for Skull Island. Here is how it was promoted: Conrad as this badass action hero, Weaver as the sympathetic “strong” female character, Packard as the obvious antagonist, Marlow as the comic relief, and Kong as the uncertain but probably an antagonist character. Plus a lot of minor characters that were all over the place. It was your typical action monster film and by the way it was promoted I expected everyone to follow their roles. What I should have done was pay closer attention to the interviews. Because while Conrad was being pushed as the main protagonist and the star and yadda yadda yadda, he is NOT the main protagonist. In fact, he’s not even a protagonist.

Weaver and Kong are the main protagonists.

Packard is still the antagonist and Marlow is the comic relief, but while watching the film and then going back and giving interviews a closer listen I realized Conrad is NOT the main character in this movie. In fact, he could easily be removed and the story would still work.

Conrad is 100% Eye Candy. We just don’t see it right away because it’s a male in that position.

Here’s my reasoning: Reviews don’t talk about Tom’s acting, they talk about his physical attributes. My favorite one is about the disappearing sleeves. Traditionally, this is something that they would be throwing at Brie (Weaver), but they talk about her acting instead. In fact, everyone’s acting is talked about EXCEPT Tom’s. His is about how good he looks in a tight shirt. Conrad is supposed to be this amazing SAS tracker. Except, he doesn’t do any tracking in this movie. Most of the time things fall into his lap or he stumbles across it. There are a few survival things he helps out with, but usually with someone like Marlow or even Weaver suggesting it. In fact, you can easily take Conrad out and give those findings to Weaver or the kid to find and still have the story work. I quite honestly thought that Kong was going to carry on the blonde affair tradition by grabbing Conrad and have Weaver rescue him. That’s what I would have done, to be honest. Mostly for my own amusement. I noticed this in the promotions and interviews. The director kept mentioning that Tom kept coming up with ideas for Conrad that the director listen to to humor him. While this isn’t an uncommon thing for Tom to do (many directors have mentioned him doing this), it was the way Tom was describing this character that caught my attention. In interviews for Hank or Pine or Thomas or Loki or even Adam, Tom has been given plenty of material to help build a character and then adding ten times as much of his own research. With Conrad, he kept talking about developing the character (meaning most of the research and character building was done by him so there wasn’t much to begin with), how he presented this to the director, and a lot of talk about physical training. Odd, for someone who is drawn toward complex characters. Not that he didn’t have fun filming this. Just, odd. The end fight. Weaver was in the thick of the action while Conrad just stands there and watches. Weaver and Kong works together, like any main protagonists do. Conrad runs up to her after everything is over. Strategic leaning, strategic hair ruffling in the wind, strategic posing with protective face, strategic slow motion katana action, strategic close ups of upper body/eyes/face in profile/heavy breathing/strategic working on an engine. I mean, come on. Weaver is NOT ONCE put in this position. She is clothed appropriately for the climate/environment and the camera never focuses on anything for aesthetic purposes. That voice over in the end credit scene. Dude. We know where you got that from. We’re never going to forget that 2012 Comic Con. It worked though. In the showdown between the human protagonist/antagonist, it’s Weaver doing most of the standing up to Packard. He backs down from her. Conrad just stands there with a rifle he hardly uses with a worried look on his face and is also behind her.

These are just the examples I have off of the top of my head. But it was the first thing I said to my friend after the movie and she quickly agreed with me. Also, it’s another point to mention the fact that guys who are more outspoken about seeing action flicks commented on how many women were in the audience.

Just saying.

It will be interesting to see if this becomes a trend. As people push to have more women, ethnic groups, and sexual orientations represented in film, we might see more Dudes in Distress and let others do the rescuing. 

[fairladymarian]

Can’t Believe She’s Become a Shell of Herself, Cause She Used to Be a Pearl || Self

May drifted on the edge of consciousness, refusing to open her eyes because that meant she was admitting she was awake. She heard the voices around her, some soothing, some panicking. It sounded like a few people were really ill, but she couldn’t bring herself to care too much just yet. She couldn’t do anything for them that wasn’t already being done. She wasn’t any use to them. So she stayed, floating in this dream world for just a little while longer.

This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up, so she knew exactly where she was. The Hospital Wing. May had managed to survive those 10 grueling hours of play without any serious injuries. She had scored several goals, and the work as a team had allowed them to score a few others. Even though they had lost, she should have felt pleased about the game’s outcome, as playing your best game was at least as important as winning.

But then the game ended. May had landed her broom, taken one look at her injured teammates, took a step forward, and then collapsed. The next thing she was aware of, she was waking up in the hospital wing, and one of the nurses almost immediately poured some sort of potion down her throat. They had ignored her questions about her teammates, answering with a curt ‘They’re fine’ before insisting that she needed more rest. According to them, she had pushed her body beyond its limits. They were going to make her get more rest and some nutritious food back in her before she was allowed to go anywhere. Of course, she had protested saying that she had homework, meetings, life to go on dealing with They’d told her she had to wait. And then they’d made her sleep again.

But she was tired of waiting. Right now it felt like her entire life was built on the premise of waiting for the next disaster to strike, and for the good things that never came.

Her father still hadn’t come home, and the determined optimism that had sustained her through the last year and a half was beginning to fade. Wouldn’t he have returned to her by now if he could have? Wouldn’t he have heard something about what was going on and come back to help her? Where could he have gone that he would be able to avoid the incessant articles about her and the family struggles that had suddenly taken center stage?

Of course, he could be captured somewhere. Which would explain why he hadn’t come back. But who kept hold of someone as important as Richard Marian without any kind of ransom note sent behind? He was a broommaker, not some big political figure for Merlin’s sake, it wasn’t like anyone could get any information out of him, and the only ones to profit were his family. So who could possibly have him?

The only remaining possibility was that he was dead. And if that were true, she was all alone.

Merlin she missed him. It was like a weight pressing against her chest, and she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be able to breathe freely. It wasn’t just that she wanted him to come back and take his role in the company again so she wouldn’t have to work so hard and fight her uncle anymore. It was him. It was Sunday card games that she got closer and closer to winning as she learned his tricks and began to make up some of her own. It was quiet mornings touring the factory. It was the way his eyes lit up as he explained some intricate secret to putting a broom together. It was his easy laugh, and the intense way he listened when she spoke, as if those words were the most important words he had ever heard in his life. It was that overwhelming knowledge that she was loved, absolutely, unconditionally, and forever. Even when they went months without seeing each other, it didn’t change the fact that she knew he was there and he loved her. She wasn’t alone.

Instead, she felt like she was always alone these days.

Of course, there were moments where that wasn’t true. Christmas at the Parrs had been wonderful. The house had been full, and watching everyone open their presents had been a stunning delight. Of course, she had received wonderful gifts as well, but that wasn’t as important to her as being able to give something special to someone who mattered. She always spent way too much money Christmas shopping, but she was like her father that way. What good was money if you couldn’t use it to make the people important to you happy?

As soon as she’d been invited, she’d written every member of her household staff to inform them that they had the Christmas holidays off. They were welcome to stay or leave as suited them, but they wouldn’t need to work. They had each received their traditional Christmas bonuses, and each member of the staff had gotten another small gift from her. After all, the bonus was from the head of the Marian household. The second gift was from May, the girl they had raised. Both seemed perfectly justifiable, and she could only hope that it had made them happy. They deserved to have something good in the middle of all this dark.

Her uncle, of course, had been furious. He’d written her a letter as soon as he’d discovered it. And while she had burned the letter itself, the words were still imprinted in her memory.

May,

You may think you you run this household, and you have these stupid lazy assholes going along with the charade. But mark my words, as soon as I win this case, I will fire every single one of them for being the lazy disgusting freeloaders they are. And you can wave goodbye to your job at the company.

Oh don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll live just fine off your inheritance until you get knocked up by one of the bastards you’re screwing. But trying to change any of this just makes you look pathetic. 

John

Letters like this reminded her exactly why she needed to keep fighting him at every turn. Most of the servants had been with her family for generations. Where would they go if they were suddenly unwelcome at home? How could she protect them? Theoretically, she could always hire them on herself. But if she needed to find her own house and pay for the staff after the expense of a court case, her inheritance would rapidly be run through without some sort of income. And what could she do besides broom making? What else was she good for?

Thievery, her brain whispered.

But if her uncle’s hatred of her was blatant and confrontable, this other skill of hers only reminded her of the other man who seemed to hate her. Yet, instead of it being a family member, it was the one she was in love with.

She never knew when he would find her. Sometimes it was only a matter of days in between visits, never longer than two weeks, but the variability meant that her nerves were constantly stretched to the breaking point as she looked out for him. Of course, it made perfect sense not to have any sort of set schedule. After all, one of the big worries was that her uncle would be able to track him down through is connection to her, and thus pin the crime of the Marian break in on Danny. It was only smart not to risk any letters and just find her whenever he needed to talk to her.

Except they never did talk, did they? Not for long. They would have a brief conversation about the status of the court case, but it wasn’t with any real interest. It was more to keep up the charade that this was information gathering for both of them. And after he got the same brief update, he would take her somewhere, and they would fuck until they were both exhausted. Sometimes he didn’t speak. Sometimes, he would call her Amy. But every time, she would be vocal and affectionate, hoping that it meant that this time he had forgiven her, this time he would cherish her. This time he would love her back, the way he had when he thought she was Amy.

Everytime, he would get dressed and leave her as soon as the sweat would begin to cool on them both. And her heart would break all over again.

Merlin she was pathetic. She kept hoping things would change, as if time would fix what they were. But she wasn’t the person he wanted her to be, and he couldn’t forgive her for the lie. Of course, physically he was the same, and they had always been good in bed together. But how on earth could she have some much love for someone who didn’t respect her? How long was she supposed to just accept that these crumbs of affection were all he would give her?

How come she couldn’t just walk away from it? Was she so lonely that even this felt better than nothing at all?

Her mother would have walked away. Her mother had. She had known that she would love Richard for the rest of her life, but without respect they wouldn’t be able to make the marriage work. So unless he turned himself into the kind of person Eleanor Gibson could respect, they had a love and nothing else. It had given her father the push he’d needed to turn himself into a better man, and he had made himself an incredible one. They had married, and May had never met another couple who loved each other as much as they had. But it had all started because Eleanor was strong enough to make the choice between what she wanted in the moment, and what would make her happy for a lifetime.

May had once thought she would be that strong. But over the past few months, it was obvious that she wasn’t.

She had even sent Danny a Christmas gift. She hadn’t wanted to get him anything too obvious or too expensive, as she knew he’d reject it. So instead, she had found a battered old silver flask with faded Welsh scrollwork. Well made enough to survive and have a sense of history, but clearly well worn so it didn’t look like he had acquired something new and flashy and too obviously expensive. Laid into it was a spell that neutralized any poisons that entered it. It meant it would always be safe for him to drink out of, no matter how dangerous the company he was keeping. She had sent a brief letter with it explaining what it did and that she hoped he’d have a Merry Christmas. It hadn’t needed to be stated that her hopes had gone along with it.

He hadn’t written back. He hadn’t sent her anything. She honestly didn’t even know if he’d kept the flask or if he’d tossed it away at the first opportunity, not wanting anything to be bought by ‘the Marian girl’. And the not knowing, the waiting, was eating at her from the inside out.

A pained shout from a bed nearby drew her forcibly back to the present, causing her to tense in the action of leaving the bed before she forced herself to relax. No. Still hospital wing. Still nothing she could do. Nothing she was capable of doing.

She was failing at every aspect of her life, something her collapse made abundantly clear.

The legal case was stalled and wouldn’t occur for another few months, which meant she could still potentially lose it to her uncle, along with her childhood home and the staff that were more family than he was at this point.

The Board had moved up to tolerating her comments, but otherwise still fought her on every change she attempted to make, no matter how much research she brought into it, so the company was coasting.

She was barely managing to keep her grades in her classes, but she had basically had to sacrifice all of the time she had used to spend helping other students.

She had lost every single duel she’d had as the dueling club captain, and while some of the people she’d worked with had succeeded, each loss further destroyed the confidence she had in her skills and her worth.

Nearly every Quidditch game had been lost, and at least a portion of that was due to the fact that she was playing worse than she had in years past because of how stressed and stretched thin she was.

Most of her friends were keeping secrets from her and isolating themselves, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

The friends she did keep she barely saw as everything else took over her life.

The man she loved despised her, and she was weak enough to be drawn back to him as soon as he crooked his finger, even when she knew how each evening would end.

And now her body was beginning to fail, because there was no time for sleep in the middle of everything else she was doing, and she hadn’t had any sort of appetite for weeks.

Looking back on her life, it seemed like the May that existed now was an entirely different person from the May who had lived for so long. The other May had been warm and loving, as quick to laugh as she was to fight in defense of someone else. She had been enthusiastic and optimistic. A little reckless, a lot responsible, a good friend, and a determined worker. She had looked to the future and made promises that she had been certain she could keep, because she was bursting at the seams with energy, excitement, vitality, and determination. She had succeeded at everything she’d put her mind to, and it hadn’t even been a question whether she would be able to accomplish it. It was just a fact.

The May lying in that hospital bed was only able to put on the semblance of that May when other people needed to see it. Inside, stress and fear and heartache had eaten away at everything until there was nothing left. She was just a shell. And she didn’t know how to fix it.

[trippinglynet]

The Media and Immediacy | Larry Harvey (1998)

An Interview with Larry Harvey.

[Ed Note: Darryl Van Rhey is the pen name of Larry Harvey, although it was also occasionally used by Stuart Mangrum].

Darryl Van Rhey: Many who have come to Burning Man have voiced complaints about the media. Some say the presence of cameras and reporters intrudes upon immediate experience. What is your response?

Larry Harvey: I meet a lot of reporters, which is part of my job, and so the media does not appear to me to be a faceless monolith. I think that perception sometimes warps people's reasoning. You might say I've had a more immediate experience of the media, and I've met very few journalists who are ogres.

We did encounter one television crew back in 1995 that was remarkably clueless. They plastered a general release statement - perhaps the world's largest - on our gate trailer, then proceeded to rush around yelling. 'Camera coming through! Camera coming through!' at people. We declared a media alert on our radio station and it generated a community response. People fashioned wooden cameras and began to follow them around. Someone finally wrote 'Eat The Rich' on their Winnebago and they left - but that was before we learned to deal with this proactively.

DVR: What exactly have you learned?

LH: I've learned that journalists are paid to be curious - and that is where their problems begin. You see, they're always on a deadline. They're asked to go out and find a story, but there is never enough time to tell it. I sometimes tell reporters what Henry James said about periodicals. He said that magazines are like a railroad that must always run on time. There are never enough paying passengers, and yet the rules state that each train car must be filled - so they stuff the seats with mannequins. That way no one notices the train's half empty as it rushes down the track.

DVR: That's one of those professional ironies, isn't it? One may enter a profession out of love of that activity, but then, of course, you're working for others who may not care about it in that ideal sense. That's why they hired someone else to do it.

LH: Yeah, means and ends get separated. Journalists as a class of people are interested and interesting, but they are seldom able to fulfill themselves. They're expected to turn out product on a deadline - which can murder curiosity. Last year we tailored an approach to people in the media designed to solve this problem.

DVR: What did you do?

LH: They would call Marian, our Communications Manager, and say, 'We need a press kit and we want to talk to Larry.' She'd tell them that we had no press kit, but if they wanted to talk to anybody, they should first go to our website. Now, of course, our website is extraordinary. It has a ton of information, more angles than you could ever compress into a kit. Moreover, it is interactive and the gateway to thousands of other sites that participants have created themselves. It is a thoroughgoing X-ray of our whole community.

They'd come back, now loaded with context, and say, 'This sounds great! So, we're coming on Sunday and we want to talk to Larry...' and then she would tell them, 'If you want to talk to Larry you have to come early, on Wednesday or Thursday, and stay for the entire event.' Now they had to come, camp, live and survive among us. They had no choice but to immerse themselves in the story. This is radical inclusion - very Burning Man.

DVR: You're saying that the media itself enjoyed an immediate experience.

LH: They sure did, and the results were extraordinary. You know, a lot of what passes for journalistic objectivity is actually professional alienation. We allowed them access to deep background. We gave them time to think and a few ideas, but we didn't tell them what to say so much as we allowed them to express themselves. That's what we're radically about. Have you seen any of the TV shows?

DVR: You were well served.

LH: Sure we were, but so were they! They wrote more incisively. They delved beneath appearances. By every intelligent standard, they created better stories. I'd grown so weary of the Burning-Man-as-Woodstock myth. This year they noticed our diversity, and as actual citizens of our city they realized that our talk about community betokens something real. Not only is this more accurate, but it describes a more intriguing phenomenon. No amount of spin could have produced this. These stories were crafted with more care than is normal. In a very real sense, the news crews were participants this year.

Besides, you know, I grow a little tired of hearing how people with cameras aren't participants. Does that mean that only exhibitionists are participating? Don't get me wrong. As you well know, some of my dearest friends are exhibitionists. But can't someone with a camera be creative too? Every year when the event is over, participants clamor for images. It's only natural. We get hundreds of requests. How do you suppose these pictures get produced?

DVR: But doesn't all this beg my original question? Granted, people want pictures and certainly you got good press. Maybe, by allowing reporters to express themselves in their work, they better expressed what Burning Man actually is. But why should you want more press? Given your agenda for community, some would say you're better off without the media.

LH: Not politically. Does anyone imagine we'd survive without the press? The truth will set you free, but only if you can publicize it. The presence of the press at our event has shielded us from persecution. It isn't always a nice world, you know.

DVR: Well, that's certainly a pragmatic argument.

LH: It is, but I really don't mean to evade your question. You seem to be suggesting that mere contact with the media will somehow corrupt us and I think this comes back to the notion of the media as monolith. Who and what are the media?

First of all, it's anyone who carries a camera. Beyond that, it is the press, television, movies, radio, and now the Internet. These are merely mediums of communication. People carry on as if television sets were entities of evil or as if reporters and producers of programming were members of some sinister conspiracy, but why blame them? Our real problem is that these communication tools are used for certain economic purposes. TV is the worst offender. It isolates people and turns them into passive consumers, and that makes it hard to imagine using the media to actively communicate with one another. But we have met the media. It's made up of people, reporters who are looking for a story, something that will attract attention. That's their agenda and what's wrong with it? Burning Man is a growing community and communities learn through story telling. We've got a big story, so we've gained a voice. Immediacy can be very contagious.

DVR: You're not worried then about becoming too popular?

LH: By too popular I suppose you mean will we become pop culture, become commodified, turned into some sort of product that's hawked on TV? That's really the fear, isn't it? It amounts to a kind of superstitious dread.

Listen, we're a populist movement. We need to communicate with people. How do you suppose half the people who come to the festival hear about it? We do very little paid advertising. Pieces in the press or shows on TV are merely magnified word-of-mouth. Who is saying these messages are a substitute for immediate experience? It used to be feared that we'd become too big.

Again, you see, there's this tendency to equate anything on a large scale with mass society, but I think we've laid that ghost to rest. Last year, in 1997, we had our largest attendance and our greatest publicity, but the event was more participatory and interactive than ever before. Obviously, we're communicating with people. Everyone complains about the media, but no one does anything about it. Why look at this so passively? We should have more faith in ourselves. It's time to believe that we can change the world.

DVR: Do you have any plans for dealing with the media in the future?

LH: We'll continue what we've started. You know, we've always charged the press. There are no free press passes. They pay for tickets like everyone else. They're treated as participants. Next year we'll do more to get them to come early, and we'll try harder to introduce them to people. This year we connected TBS to a couple. They filmed their child's birthday party and the kids and parents burned a giant wooden cake. I thought that was great.

We'll also stress basic etiquette more, but that works both ways. If you don't want to be featured, just tell them up front. They're people, you know. We might also ask camera crews to come in costume. That way they'll blend in with the scene - gain more acceptance, get better stories and have more fun. We might make an exception for on-camera announcers, but for them I fancy we could make a costume - maybe just the front half of a suit. These guys never seem to turn around, so who's to know the difference?

DVR: Do you have any last thoughts on this subject?

LH: Just one. I have a personal reason for allowing camera crews to come.

DVR: Fame?

LH: Well, that's a whole other interview. No, I meant that as an organizer I have very little time to see what really happens. As an engineer of other people's experience, I need to imagine things I haven't actually participated in. I depend on these images.

DVR: One of those professional ironies, huh?

LH: I'm working on it.

Larry Harvey is the founder and director of Burning Man.

Darryl Van Rhey is a freelance writer residing in San Francisco.

[charmscale]

A Demon’s Lust Chapter 1

Anita

Sneaking out of the Rowan Castle was always tricky. It wouldn't have been possible at all if I hadn't mastered that magically undetectable invisibility spell last quarter. Of course, the Master level wizards could still detect me, as could a few of the higher level journeymen, but it wasn't them I was trying to hide from. It was my own level, the 12th level apprentices, that I was worried about.

The hall was dark at this hour, dark and empty. No one wanted to waste magic or oil lighting a rarely used hallway at midnight. The carpeted floor muffled my footsteps, and the tapestries on the wall absorbed what was left of the sound.

It was hard to move when I couldn't see myself. Several times, I almost tripped over my own feet. In addition, the invisibility spell burned power very quickly. It would be worth it, though, if I could get out of the castle without being spotted by Trev or any of his lackeys. Worth it a thousand times over. If Trev ever found out about Zek, my vulnerable, non-wizard, lover, he'd kill the poor shepherd in a heartbeat. Kill him, and make it look like an accident, or like I myself was responsible. He was good at that sort of thing.

I seethed inside. One of the ancient duties of the Kerath Order of Wizardry was to protect the kingdom of Kerath from demons. What did Trev do? He summoned one. Worse, he convinced the Masters that this was a good idea, that demons could be useful and that controlling a demon would be good practice for young wizards. Now, only a few apprentices didn't have demons. Of course, I was one of them, one of two apprentices of the 12th level to abstain from summoning. Now the other apprentices looked down their noses at me; even those of the of lower levels looked down on me for being weak when I was the strongest wizard of my level. It irked me. I wasn't weak. I just had principles. Unlike Trev.

I suspected Trev of killing several other high-level apprentices, rivals of his. I also suspected him of several attempts on my own life. I couldn't prove anything, of course. Trev was too sneaky, and the Masters tended to look the other way when it came to apprentices killing other apprentices. They saw it as a way to weed out the weak and stupid before the Trials.

Ah, the Trials. I smiled wryly. The Trials were the only way for a 12th-level apprentice to move up a level and become a 1st-level journeyman. During the trials, which were, of course, entirely voluntary, each apprentice wishing to move up to journeyman dueled to the death with another apprentice. This, in theory, ensured that only the strongest wizards became journeymen. It was well known that the Masters intended to have me duel Trev. That was probably why he'd been so persistent in his attempts on my life. He knew that the only way he would survive the trials was to kill me before they occurred so he could duel with someone against whom he might actually win.

I was almost out of the castle now. All I needed was to get past the outer door. Fortunately, I'd planned for this.

Humming happily, arms full of flowers and herbs, Marian, a fellow 12th level apprentice and my best friend, opened the door. As she entered the castle, I slipped out.

"Have fun," whispered Marian as she passed.

I smiled. Yes, I would have fun.

I made my way to the stables and saddled my gelding. Making him as well as myself invisible would take a lot out of me, but, fortunately, I would only need to do it for a little while- just until we reached the first line of houses in the village, and were out of sight of the castle.

A few minutes later, I smiled and dropped the invisibility spell. The ending of the steady drain on my magical reserves, as well as the mental effort of holding it in place, was a relief. I leaned back in my saddle, dropping my guard in a way I was never able to do at the castle. I imagined my evening with Zek.

When I knocked on the door, he would open it immediately. Then, after blushing and assuring me that he hadn't been standing there waiting for me, he would sweep me off my feet and carry me to the bedroom. He would lay me down reverently on the bed. It wasn't really large enough, or sturdy enough, for two, but we'd always managed before. We couldn't lie side by side, though. We had to be right on top of each other.

He would kiss me deeply, then bend to nibble my neck. After covering it with red love marks, he would suck on my nipples to make them nice and hard, then nibble on them, too. I would flip him over onto his back- carefully, so as not to collapse the bed- and undo the fastenings on his pants. As his hardening cock burst free, I would lick the head of it, then take it all the way into my mouth, sucking on him until he pushed me away and flipped me over so he could get at my pants. He would pull them down just enough to reveal my pussy.

Already wet, I would gasp as his finger entered me. He would push it in as deep as it could go, then pull it out, rubbing my insides on the way and making me moan. As he worked his finger inside me, he would bring his mouth to my clit. As his tongue flicked out to touch it, I would whimper, then grab him by the hair and bring his mouth up to mine so that I could taste my own juices. He would laugh, and pull away so he could lick my clit some more. One finger in my pussy would become two, and then three. Three fingers, rubbing my insides hard, would excite me to the point that I wouldn't be able to stand it any longer. I would yank his head away from my pussy again, and pull his fingers out.

He would smile in understanding, and move up my body until he looked me in the eyes. His huge, hard cock would be lined up with my soaking wet pussy. And then...

I smiled. I didn't need to imagine it any longer; I was here.

Zek's shepherd's shelter was just beyond the edge of the village surrounding and providing for Rowan Castle. It was small but cozy. I dismounted, cared for my horse, and knocked on the door.

It took a while for Zek to get to the door. A long while, considering how small his little house was. I frowned and was considering checking the outhouse when the door finally opened.

I smiled. "Zek!"

He frowned. "Anita. Come in. We need to talk."

As I settled into a chair, he paced in front of the fireplace.

"Come on, sit down," I told him, patting my knee.

"No. I think I'd rather stand," Zek said.

I sighed. "What's wrong?"

He picked up the kettle. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No," I replied.

"Some milk, maybe? Water?" He was fidgeting with the kettle now, shifting it from hand to hand.

"No! Damn it, I want to know what's wrong," I snapped, having no patience with prevarication. "Is it your dad's back again? Do you need money?"

He sighed. "No. Although, what you said is part of the problem. Anita, I think we need to stop seeing each other."

"What?" I hadn’t expected this.

"I think we need to stop seeing each other," he repeated, looking at his feet.

"I heard you the first time. What I want to know is why," I said. "Am I too demanding? Is that it?" I bit my lip. "I can stop if you want."

He shook his head. "I love that in you, Anita. You know I do."

"Then why?" I held back tears. It was dangerous to show weakness.

He sighed again. "Haven't you wondered, these past few months, if what we're doing is right?"

I reached out to touch his thigh. "What do you mean? Doesn't it... Don't we feel right to you?"

He shifted out of my reach, almost ending up in the fireplace. "That's not it. The... The sex is great. Really. I love it. And... And I love you. I do, I really do. It's just that... Well..."

"Well what?" Remembering that, for now, I wasn't in the castle, I let the tears stream down my cheeks.

"Like should marry like. That's all." He looked up at me. "And we aren't alike."

I shook my head. "I'm no different from you, Zek."

"You live in a castle! I live," he said as he gestured around the room, "in this hovel. How can you say we aren't different?"

"It's not a hovel. And, if you want to live somewhere else, I can-"

He cut me off. "That's the problem. You have money. You have influence. I don't. Like should marry like."

"You keep saying that," I said, "but I was born to a farming family, same as you, and if I hadn't been born with magic-"

"But you were born with magic," he said. "And that changes everything."

"It changes nothing!" I retorted. "What a person is capable of doesn't define who they are."

"If that's true," he said, slowly, "why do we always meet here? Why not in your rooms in Rowan Castle?''

I shook my head. "Because it's dangerous. If another wizard found out about you... We're taking a risk even meeting at your place! You know that. But if it's really bothering you, I suppose I could sneak you in." I looked up at him beseechingly. "Please, don't do this."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. But like I said, like should be with like. That's all there is to it."

"Wizards aren't allowed to marry wizards," I argued. "We aren't even allowed to be in relationships. Wizarding blood combined is too unpredictable."

"Then marry a noble or something." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Just stop bothering me!"

I stormed out, sobbing. He followed me, and tried to hand me a bag of the things I'd left at his place. I refused. Most of the items had been gifts, small spelled items, like glow stones, to make his life easier. The rest he could throw out.

Upset as I was, it took me a few tries to get the invisibility spell up again. Still, I managed long enough to get back into the castle and clean off my face so that no one would know I'd been crying. Even if Zek didn't love me anymore, I wasn't going to do anything to put him in danger.

I was so distracted, I almost didn't notice the demon until it was too late. It lunged at me from the shadows, going for my throat. I barely dodged in time. The creature sailed past me, and I whirled as it landed behind me.

This demon was in the form of a large black dog. It had red eyes and unrealistically large claws and teeth. I recognized it. It was bound to Antona, one of Trev's lackeys.

I tried to throw up a ward as it lunged again, but wards that kept out demons were hard to make on the fly. In fact, it was hard to make any spell affect a demon unless you had it caught in a circle or it was bound as your familiar. In the end I had to throw myself backwards onto the ground to avoid it. The impact with the hard flagstones knocked the beginning of the warding spell right out of my mind.

The demon twisted in midair to come down with its head by my throat. Its jaws opened…

I saw a stirring in the shadows as Antona peered out to watch her demon finish me off. With a shouted word of power, I quickly threw a fireball. She was incinerated with a scream, and, as she died, so did the demon's link to the mortal realm. It could now be banished.

The demon turned as its master died, and grinned in a feral way at its newfound freedom. It began shifting back into its natural form, a thing with too many tentacles and teeth. I quickly said the banishing spell. Fortunately, it was much easier than a demon blocking ward. The demon vanished with a howl back into Hell.

I lay there, shivering and thinking about my close call. If I hadn't managed to kill Antona... But now that she was dead, there was no way to prove that Trev had been behind her attack. In fact, if it hadn't been for the teeth marks on my throat, I would be hard pressed to prove that she had attacked me.

I had never considered the difficulty of defending myself against a bound demon in terms of fighting another wizard. Trev's demon, as befitted his status as the second most powerful apprentice in Castle Rowan, was faster and harder to block than Antona's had been. I shuddered. If he had attacked himself tonight... But he hadn't. And next time... Next time, no matter how wrong I thought it was, I would have a demon of my own. I wanted to live much more than I disliked demons.

First, though, I would have to report the attack and get some supplies.

Later, in my rooms, I pulled aside the carpeting and began to paint the pentagram. I used sheep's blood for that. It had probably come from one of the sheep Zek had raised. My eyes burned with unshed tears.

I remembered how Zek and I had met. I'd been on my way home to visit my family, and I'd stopped in the market to pick up supplies. Would he have approached me, I wondered, if I'd been in my wizard's robes instead of the rough garb I wore when I traveled? When I'd flirted with him, would he have responded if I'd made it clear that I was a wizard? Would we have ended up back at his place if I hadn't already spent most of my monthly allowance and been unable to pay for my own dinner?

I loved him, proud and stubborn as he was, and I'd thought that he loved me. I'd even considered leaving Rowan Castle and its dangers behind, once I was a journeyman, and marrying him. I would never be allowed to be a Master if I married, but was being a Master wizard really worth living life alone?

I had to stop thinking about Zek. I had to focus. If I got even one rune wrong, I could be killed by the very demon I intended to master.

The pentagram itself was done, as were the containment runes. I had just the summoning runes to complete. Then I could strip and begin the chant.

Demons were vile things. They tortured their victims, using pain and fear to make the unfortunate mortals' magic and life force accessible. Then they drained years off the poor wretches with impunity. They were greedy too, often taking much more than they needed as a way to build their own power.

Lesser demons weren't so bad. They were like animals, acting on instinct, and they attacked their own to feed just as often as they attacked mortals. Even when they did attack mortals, they were often satisfied with animals, feeling no need to risk themselves by attacking sentient beings.

Greater demons were the real terrors. They could think, and they attacked just as much for their own pleasure as for the power. Disdaining the taste of animals or their own kind, they preferred humans, especially wizards. Greater demons that were especially powerful and cruel, with the power to command other demons, were called demon lords. No one had ever successfully bound a demon lord. No one who had tried had survived.

It was a greater demon that I wanted to bind tonight. Not only were they usually more powerful, they could also often be reasoned with, especially if one offered to feed them. Their lust for power was their weakness. So was their low tolerance for pain. Like most bullies, they couldn't take what they dished out.

Once I was finished with the pentagram and the runes, I began to disrobe. No one was entirely certain why demon summoning required nudity. I, personally, didn't care. It was just one more item on my list of things to do.

I began the chant, raising my hands above my head and calling up my power. Within the pentagram, the demon began to form into this reality. It was a black thing of tentacles and mouths and blood-red eyes, thrashing wildly as it tried to escape the summons. Its struggles were useless, however. Soon it would be mine.

I focused on its form. With the right twist of the mind, I could force it into a shape of my choice… But what should I choose? A dog, like Antona's demon? A hulking beast, like Trev's? Unbidden, Zek's naked form swam into my mind's eye, and the demon began to shift, like clay in a mold. Hurriedly I forced my mind to empty, but it was too late. The demon, whether I liked it or not, was humanoid, and very definitely male. Its features were still fairly fluid, however.

I made its hair black, instead of Zek's dirty blond, and its eyes almost black, not pale blue. Instead of Zek's innocent features, I used the rugged face of a mercenary I'd once tumbled. Then, frowning, I removed the beard and added long lashes. His body I made heavily muscled. Just as I realized how stunningly handsome I'd made the demon, he finished solidifying and I could make no more changes.

The demon slammed its shoulder against the barrier at the edge of the pentagram, snarling. I swiftly fed more power into it, strengthening the wall. The demon slammed into it again.

"You, mortal, will suffer!" it snarled. "You will suffer greatly because I am-"

I clenched my fist and it fell to the floor, writhing in agony, too pained to even scream. "At the moment," I told it, "I don't care what your name is, demon. You will speak when spoken to." I opened my hand.

Slowly the demon stood, glaring daggers at me. "Mortal, I am no mere-" he began, and then, with a scream, collapsed again.

I looked down at my fist. "Slow learner, I see," I mused. I unclenched my fist. This time, the demon stayed on the floor, looking up at me warily. "Rise," I told it impatiently. It remained on the floor. "Stand before me or face the consequences," I told it, partially clenching my fist.

Grudgingly, the demon rose. If looks could kill, I would be dead.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"I thought," said the demon, "That you didn't care what my name was."

"Wrong answer," I said, clenching my fist. This time the demon remained standing for a moment, glaring at me. Then he slowly sank to his knees, eyes tightly shut.

"Saban," he gasped. "My name is Saban." I released him. He collapsed, then, slowly stood.

"Good," I said. "Very good. So, Saban, how would you like to be my familiar?"

"Never," Saban snapped, flinching back from me in expectation of pain.

Instead of clenching my fist again, I smiled at him. "I'm sure I could make it worth your while."

I picked up the knife on the table beside me. Then, slowly, I ran the sharp blade along my arm, wincing. I pressed the wound up against the edge of the pentagram, careful not to cross the line. "Have a taste," I told the demon.

His eyes glittered as he stared at the wound, but he said, "No. I will not be your slave. Not even for this."

I sighed and clenched my fist again. As the demon slowly sank to the floor, I told him, "You will do as you are told." Then I released him. Mostly.

Wincing, the demon got to his knees and gingerly touched my wounded arm. By now the blood flow had stopped, but it still hurt. I focused on the pain, letting it fill me, letting it agitate my magic until it surged out of me to where the demon could touch it. I felt him taste me. His eyes closed. Slowly, his tongue lapped along the blood-red line. The pain increased. "Good?" I asked him through clenched teeth.

His eyes met mine. "Very. But my answer is still no."

I sighed. "Very well. I will send you back."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You will?"

"Yes," I told him, "at dawn." Then I raised my partially clenched fist. I did not enjoy giving pain, but he would suffer for rejecting me. The story of his pain would make the next demon that much more likely to accept my offer.

His eyes widened still further. "Wait!"

I paused. "Yes?"

He glared at me, then visibly swallowed his pride. "Do you swear you will feed me?"

"Yes," I answered. "I do so swear. Every day."

He partially smiled. "Every day?"

I smiled back, trying not to think about the pain. "Every day. My magic regenerates swiftly."

"Then I, Saban, do pledge myself in service to you, in exchange for daily feeding," said the demon. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold.

"And I, Anita Kirith, do accept this pledge. And I, in return, pledge to feed you daily until death do us part."

There was a moment where reality shifted, forming a bond between us. Then it was done. My demon smiled dangerously. "I am yours. You can let me out now."

"Not yet," I answered absently, bending to paint a few more runes, this time in my blood. "The pledge is done, but now I need to do the binding."

The demon's eyes widened in alarm. "Binding?"

"Yes. A set of magically enforced commands," I explained.

Saban smiled. "Do you really think you need that? I am already bound to obey you."

"You are bound to obey for as long as I focus on the command," I answered.

"I'll obey you even if I am not bound to do so," Saban assured me, watching me nervously.

I snorted. "Yeah, right."

Saban grinned nervously. "Really, I-"

I cut him off with my clenched fist. He fell to the ground, shrieking. "Never, ever lie to me. Also, I already told you to speak only when spoken to." I unclenched my fist slowly.

The demon stood silently, glaring at me.

I finished the binding runes, then activated them. "You will not harm me, nor, by inaction, allow me to come to harm. You will never feed on my life force. You will neither harm nor kill any sentient being without my permission. And you will remain in this form." I wrapped the struggling demon tightly, though gently, in magic. I didn't want to hurt him; if I did I'd have to bind another demon. After I finished the binding, I deactivated the runes. Then I deactivated the pentagram by wiping away one of the containing runes. "Now you can come out."

The demon stepped out. He was still glaring at me. "I need to feed," he reminded me.

"Very well," I sighed. The cut I had made earlier didn't hurt anymore. It had scabbed over. I fished a potion out of my robes, keeping an eye on the demon. Even bound, he was still dangerous.

I uncorked the potion and carefully poured a small amount over the cut. It dissolved the scab, restarted the bleeding, and made the wound smart. The demon, eyes gleaming, moved close to me, grasping my bleeding arm tightly enough to make it hurt even more. As I focused on the pain, he closed his eyes and fed.

Saban

After forcing me to pledge to her and binding me tightly in her magic, the wizard bitch had chained me up in a cage. I tested the strength of the shackles on my arms and legs once again, and, once again, the runes on them flared painfully. Even if I could get free, the cage was also spelled. The bitch did not believe in taking chances. She had even gagged me and spelled the shackles silent so I couldn't disturb her rest. I chewed on the spelled gag resentfully and glared at where the wizard was sleeping in a king sized bed.

She would suffer greatly for this, oh yes. Eventually I would break the binding she had placed on me. I was a demon lord after all, stronger than any mere demon. The binding would break, and I would tie her up and gag her so she couldn't command me or work magic. Then the sweet, sweet pain would begin. Slowly, over several days, maybe even weeks, I would drain her of magic and life force until she was nothing but a withered husk with no power over me.

Or maybe, maybe, I would keep her alive. With her alive no wizard could banish me back to the nether hells. I could explore this world, feeding as I wished. Yes, that was a much, much better idea. Either way, though, she would suffer. Oh yes, she would suffer for binding me.

[robinhoodrevisited]

Necessary Evils

Somewhere between Powis and Nottingham... (Henry, the former manservant of Bishop Waleran, sits at a large table. There is food laid out before him but his attention is solely on the person sat across from him.) Henry: "The army is only a couple days ride from here. (With a meaningful look:) They await their Commander readily." Unseen Man: "Good. You've done well my boy. You and your brother in fact. Loyalty like yours is a rare thing these days." Henry: "How could I not remain loyal to you, sire? After everything you've done for my brother and I, we would gladly give our lives for your cause." Unseen Man: "Our cause. Soon everything we've worked towards will come to fruition and you shall take your rightful place by my side." Henry: (Nods:) "Even during his greatest schemes and plots, I knew Waleran was no match for you, sire." Unseen Man: "True. Although his death is a great blow for our influence within the church, Waleran had served his purpose." Henry: "Yes, sire." Unseen Man: "Now, (Getting to his feet:) this is where I must leave you. I believe I can rely on you to dispatch the remaining prisoners?" Henry: "Of course, sire. Are we sure that killing them is the right decision?" Unseen Man: "Henry, we've been through this. Their survival would be an unnecessary burden on the Prince. What he doesn't know he can't worry about, hm? (Henry nods:) Good boy. Although you were right to consult with me first on the matter." Henry: (Nods:) "You must go, Sire. You have a long journey ahead of you." Unseen Man: (Picking up his coat:) "Kill them quickly then catch up to us when you can. Our time has come!" Outside The House. (Henry watches as the man rides away on his horse. Securing his saddle and mounting his own horse, Henry looks around cautiously before leaving.) Dirt Road. (Henry has not travelled far before he notices rustling in the trees.) Henry: "Who's there? Show yourself!" (Emerging from the trees atop her own horse is Octavia. They regard each other a moment before Octavia makes her move.) Octavia: "Death to Prince John!" (The woman warrior turns her horse and rides away quickly. Henry raises an eyebrow at this obvious trap. Amused and deciding that a diversion is needed, Henry kicks his horse into motion and chases Octavia. Following her tracks until he reaches a clearing, the man in black dismounts and draws his sword.) Henry: "Come out and face me, savage. (Looking around for any sign of attack:) It's true then, your kind are all cowards!" (Henry shakes his head then sheathes his sword, annoyed at himself for indulging his whim. As he turns back to his horse however, he is met by Octavia who pummels him with strategic blows to body. Falling to his knees, the last sight Henry sees is Octavia standing over him before all goes black.)

Nottingham Castle. Castle Baths. (Despite her alliance with Prince John, Nottingham's fortunes have turned around under Isabella's reign as Sheriff. The markets thrive, taxes have been lowered and people are slowly returning from the brink of starvation. There is also a silent agreement between Isabella and the outlaws. Although she cannot pardon them outright, the Sheriff has ceased the guard patrol inside Sherwood forest allowing Robin's gang to re-enter their camp. It is an olive branch in an attempt to mend relationships that were harmed in the past. Although her time as Sheriff has been well spent, it has also been spent alone. Perhaps it’s for this reason that Isabella has reopened the castle baths. A huge pool of water in which the sheriff now sits reading her correspondence. Unfortunately for Isabella, the letter she knew was bound to come has finally arrived:

My dearest Isabella, Word of my plot to take the throne has reached both France and Italy. My mother and sister have combined their forces in an attempt to put an end to my plans for England. My own sister leads the army that seeks to destroy me! As of now my army has managed to keep them at bay but this will not last. I implore you to do what you can for your future King and send reinforcements. My Generals inform me I need at least three hundred men with food and supplies to hold back Joan's army.

Do this because you love me.

Isabella re-reads the letter and sighs. She knows that all her accomplishments to date will be forgotten with the Prince's request. Yet she cannot simply ignore the letter lest Nottingham itself be flattened. Isabella exits the baths knowing that what she is about to do will leave a mark on her soul that will never wash off.)

A Cave. (As Henry slowly awakens, his eyes focus on the two women stood over him.) Indra: (Her arm in a sling, to Octavia:) "It was a mistake to bring him here." Octavia: "He was unconscious the whole trip and I have his weapons." Henry: "Whatever you're planning you won't get away with it." Indra: (Through gritted teeth:) "Shut your mouth!" Octavia: (Placing her hand soothingly on Indra's uninjured arm:) "Indra, we talked about this." Indra: "You waste time, the army's trail grows colder by the hour." Henry: (Smirks:) "The army is miles from here. What do you even hope to accomplish if you find them?" Indra: "Vengeance." Henry: (Scoffs:) "Two against an entire army?" Octavia: "There are more of us. Watching your people, waiting." Henry: "Savages in trees. An annoyance at best." Indra: "The Commander of the thirteen clans awaits our word." Henry: (Falters a moment:) "You're bluffing." Indra: (Steps forward:) "Try us."

Sherwood Forest. Great North Road. The Next Morning. (Robin puts his ear to the ground and listens. He hears a single horse galloping down the road. He chuckles and gets up. He nocks an arrow, pulls out a second one from his quiver and nocks it beside the first. He draws and aims. Marian puts her face next to Robin’s and lays another arrow above the two.) Marian: (Saucily:) “I bet you can’t do it with three.” (Robin nocks the third arrow, looks back at her and smiles slyly. The horse neighs. Robin draws and shoots. The three arrows sail and land in front of the horse, spooking it. It rears and bucks off its rider. Gisborne immediately stands over him with his sword, turns him over and pulls the message from his belt.) Gisborne: “I’ll take that.” (Gisborne hands the parchment to Marian.) Robin: “Tie him up, then.” (Allan flips the messenger back onto his face, whips out a piece of rope and hands it to Gisborne. Marian reads the message.) Marian: “It’s from Isabella to Prince John. “My Prince, I understand the urgency of your request. Richard returns from the Crusades within the month. (Robin turns his head, distressed at what he’s hearing.) Troops loyal to him await his return in Loughborough. We must be ready.” (Gisborne stares at the ground, fearing for his future.) Allan: “Richard… King Richard?” Marian: “The King’s coming home.” Robin: (Steps away from the gang, thinking.) “Read the rest.” (Allan leads the tied-up messenger to his horse.) Marian: “You asked for three hundred men, food and supplies. I will dispatch them at sunset to join with your northern forces in Doncaster.” Robin: (Grimaces.) “So where’s Isabella supposed to find three hundred men?” Marian: “England will soon be yours.” Gisborne: (Considering:) “It’s only through the Prince that Isabella is sheriff.” Robin: (Leans on his bow. to messenger:) “You give the Prince this message…” Allan: (Patting the horse’s rump:) “Go on.” (The horse walks down the road with the messenger riding backwards, his hands tied to the saddle.)

Robin: “England will never be a slave to Prince John, not while Robin Hood fights for King Richard.” Little John: (Calling from over the hill:) “Robin! (Marian and Robin run up the hill. The gang follow.) They’ve taken them! (Robin and Marian come over the rise.) They took them!” Robin: “Taken who?” Little John: “I was in Clun. The sheriff’s soldiers. They’ve taken all the men!” Gisborne: “How many?” Little John: “I don’t know. Must have been at least a hundred.” Much: (From a nearby ridge:) “Robin! Same in Nettlestone! The sheriff’s guard came and just carted them off. Crops and livestock, too.” Marian: “A hundred from Clun, a hundred from Nettlestone.” Robin: “They’ll go to Locksley next. (to Much:) Get to Locksley!”