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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your posts about Napoleon’s death and it’s quite timely given its the 200th anniversary of his death this year in May. I was wondering, because you know a lot about military history (your served right? That’s cool to fly combat helicopters) and you live in France but aren’t French, what your take was on Napoleon and how do the French view him? Do they hail him as a hero or do they like others see him like a Hitler or a Stalin? Do you see him as a hero or a villain of history?

5 May 1821 was a memorable date because Napoleon, one of the most iconic figures in world history, died while in bitter exile on a remote island in the South Atlantic Ocean. Napoleon Bonaparte, as you know rose from obscure soldier to a kind of new Caesar, and yet he remains a uniquely controversial figure to this day especially in France. You raise interesting questions about Napoleon and his legacy. If I may reframe your questions in another way. Should we think of him as a flawed but essentially heroic visionary who changed Europe for the better? Or was he simply a military dictator, whose cult of personality and lust for power set a template for the likes of Hitler?

However one chooses to answer this question can we just - to get this out of the way - simply and definitively say that Napoleon was not Hitler. Not even close. No offence intended to you but this is just dumb ahistorical thinking and it’s a lazy lie. This comparison was made by some in the horrid aftermath of the Second World War but only held little currency for only a short time thereafter. Obviously that view didn’t exist before Hitler in the 19th Century and these days I don’t know any serious historian who takes that comparison seriously.

I confess I don’t have a definitive answer if he was a hero or a villain one way or the other because Napoleon has really left a very complicated legacy. It really depends on where you’re coming from.

As a staunch Brit I do take pride in Britain’s victorious war against Napoleonic France - and in a good natured way rubbing it in the noses of French friends at every opportunity I get because it’s in our cultural DNA and it’s bloody good fun (why else would we make Waterloo train station the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail service from its opening in 1994? Or why hang a huge gilded portrait of the Duke of Wellington as the first thing that greets any visitor to the residence of the British ambassador at the British Embassy?). On a personal level I take special pride in knowing my family ancestors did their bit on the battlefield to fight against Napoleon during those tumultuous times. However, as an ex-combat veteran who studied Napoleonic warfare with fan girl enthusiasm, I have huge respect for Napoleon as a brilliant military commander. And to makes things more weird, as a Francophile resident of who loves living and working in France (and my partner is French) I have a grudging but growing regard for Napoleon’s political and cultural legacy, especially when I consider the current dross of political mediocrity on both the political left and the right. So for me it’s a complicated issue how I feel about Napoleon, the man, the soldier, and the political leader.

If it’s not so straightforward for me to answer the for/against Napoleon question then it It’s especially true for the French, who even after 200 years, still have fiercely divided opinions about Napoleon and his legacy - but intriguingly, not always in clear cut ways.

I only have to think about my French neighbours in my apartment building to see how divisive Napoleon the man and his legacy is. Over the past year or so of the Covid lockdown we’ve all gotten to know each other better and we help each other. Over the Covid year we’ve gathered in the inner courtyard for a buffet and just lifted each other spirits up.

One of my neighbours, a crusty old ex-general in the army who has an enviable collection of military history books that I steal, liberate, borrow, often discuss military figures in history like Napoleon over our regular games of chess and a glass of wine. He is from very old aristocracy of the ancien regime and whose family suffered at the hands of ‘madame guillotine’ during the French Revolution. They lost everything. He has mixed emotions about Napoleon himself as an old fashioned monarchist. As a military man he naturally admires the man and the military genius but he despises the secularisation that the French Revolution ushered in as well as the rise of the haute bourgeois as middle managers and bureaucrats by the displacement of the aristocracy.

Another retired widowed neighbour I am close to, and with whom I cook with often and discuss art, is an active arts patron and ex-art gallery owner from a very wealthy family that came from the new Napoleonic aristocracy - ie the aristocracy of the Napoleonic era that Napoleon put in place - but she is dismissive of such titles and baubles. She’s a staunch Republican but is happy to concede she is grateful for Napoleon in bringing order out of chaos. She recognises her own ambivalence when she says she dislikes him for reintroducing slavery in the French colonies but also praises him for firmly supporting Paris’s famed Comédie-Française of which she was a past patron.

Another French neighbour, a senior civil servant in the Elysée, is quite dismissive of Napoleon as a war monger but is grudgingly grateful for civil institutions and schools that Napoleon established and which remain in place today.

My other neighbours - whether they be French families or foreign expats like myself - have similarly divisive and complicated attitudes towards Napoleon.

In 2010 an opinion poll in France asked who was the most important man in French history. Napoleon came second, behind General Charles de Gaulle, who led France from exile during the German occupation in World War II and served as a postwar president.

The split in French opinion is closely mirrored in political circles. The divide is generally down political party lines. On the left, there's the 'black legend' of Bonaparte as an ogre. On the right, there is the 'golden legend' of a strong leader who created durable institutions.

Jacques-Olivier Boudon, a history professor at Paris-Sorbonne University and president of the Napoléon Institute, once explained at a talk I attended that French public opinion has always remained deeply divided over Napoleon, with, on the one hand, those who admire the great man, the conqueror, the military leader and, on the other, those who see him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, the gravedigger of the revolution. Politicians in France, Boudon observed, rarely refer to Napoleon for fear of being accused of authoritarian temptations, or not being good Republicans.

On the left-wing of French politics, former prime minister Lionel Jospin penned a controversial best selling book entitled “the Napoleonic Evil” in which he accused the emperor of “perverting the ideas of the Revolution” and imposing “a form of extreme domination”, “despotism” and “a police state” on the French people. He wrote Napoleon was "an obvious failure" - bad for France and the rest of Europe. When he was booted out into final exile, France was isolated, beaten, occupied, dominated, hated and smaller than before. What's more, Napoleon smothered the forces of emancipation awakened by the French and American revolutions and enabled the survival and restoration of monarchies. Some of the legacies with which Napoleon is credited, including the Civil Code, the comprehensive legal system replacing a hodgepodge of feudal laws, were proposed during the revolution, Jospin argued, though he acknowledges that Napoleon actually delivered them, but up to a point, "He guaranteed some principles of the revolution and, at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it," For instance, Napoleon reintroduced slavery in French colonies, revived a system that allowed the rich to dodge conscription in the military and did nothing to advance gender equality.

At the other end of the spectrum have been former right-wing prime minister Dominique de Villepin, an aristocrat who was once fancied as a future President, a passionate collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and author of several works on the subject. As a Napoleonic enthusiast he tells a different story. Napoleon was a saviour of France. If there had been no Napoleon, the Republic would not have survived. Advocates like de Villepin point to Napoleon’s undoubted achievements: the Civil Code, the Council of State, the Bank of France, the National Audit office, a centralised and coherent administrative system, lycées, universities, centres of advanced learning known as école normale, chambers of commerce, the metric system, and an honours system based on merit (which France has to this day). He restored the Catholic faith as the state faith but allowed for the freedom of religion for other faiths including Protestantism and Judaism. These were ambitions unachieved during the chaos of the revolution. As it is, these Napoleonic institutions continue to function and underpin French society. Indeed, many were copied in countries conquered by Napoleon, such as Italy, Germany and Poland, and laid the foundations for the modern state.

Back in 2014, French politicians and institutions in particular were nervous in marking the 200th anniversary of Napoleon's exile. My neighbours and other French friends remember that the commemorations centred around the Chateau de Fontainebleau, the traditional home of the kings of France and was the scene where Napoleon said farewell to the Old Guard in the "White Horse Courtyard" (la cour du Cheval Blanc) at the Palace of Fontainebleau. (The courtyard has since been renamed the "Courtyard of Goodbyes".) By all accounts the occasion was very moving. The 1814 Treaty of Fontainebleau stripped Napoleon of his powers (but not his title as Emperor of the French) and sent him into exile on Elba. The cost of the Fontainebleau "farewell" and scores of related events over those three weekends was shouldered not by the central government in Paris but by the local château, a historic monument and UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town of Fontainebleau.

While the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution that toppled the monarchy and delivered thousands to death by guillotine was officially celebrated in 1989, Napoleonic anniversaries are neither officially marked nor celebrated. For example, over a decade ago, the president and prime minister - at the time, Jacques Chirac and Dominque de Villepin - boycotted a ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon's greatest military victory. Both men were known admirers of Napoleon and yet political calculation and optics (as media spin doctors say) stopped them from fully honouring Napoleon’s crowning military glory.

Optics is everything. The division of opinion in France is perhaps best reflected in the fact that, in a city not shy of naming squares and streets after historical figures, there is not a single “Boulevard Napoleon” or “Place Napoleon” in Paris. On the streets of Paris, there are just two statues of Napoleon. One stands beneath the clock tower at Les Invalides (a military hospital), the other atop a column in the Place Vendôme. Napoleon's red marble tomb, in a crypt under the Invalides dome, is magnificent, perhaps because his remains were interred there during France's Second Empire, when his nephew, Napoleon III, was on the throne.

There are no squares, nor places, nor boulevards named for Napoleon but as far as I know there is one narrow street, the rue Bonaparte, running from the Luxembourg Gardens to the River Seine in the old Latin Quarter. And, that, too, is thanks to Napoleon III. For many, and I include myself, it’s a poor return by the city to the man who commissioned some of its most famous monuments, including the Arc de Triomphe and the Pont des Arts over the River Seine.

It's almost as if Napoleon Bonaparte is not part of the national story.

How Napoleon fits into that national story is something historians, French and non-French, have been grappling with ever since Napoleon died. The plain fact is Napoleon divides historians, what precisely he represents is deeply ambiguous and his political character is the subject of heated controversy. It’s hard for historians to sift through archival documents to make informed judgements and still struggle to separate the man from the myth.

One proof of this myth is in his immortality. After Hitler’s death, there was mostly an embarrassed silence; after Stalin’s, little but denunciation. But when Napoleon died on St Helena in 1821, much of Europe and the Americas could not help thinking of itself as a post-Napoleonic generation. His presence haunts the pages of Stendhal and Alfred de Vigny. In a striking and prescient phrase, Chateaubriand prophesied the “despotism of his memory”, a despotism of the fantastical that in many ways made Romanticism possible and that continues to this day.

The raw material for the future Napoleon myth was provided by one of his St Helena confidants, the Comte de las Cases, whose account of conversations with the great man came out shortly after his death and ran in repeated editions throughout the century. De las Cases somehow metamorphosed the erstwhile dictator into a herald of liberty, the emperor into a slayer of dynasties rather than the founder of his own. To the “great man” school of history Napoleon was grist to their mill, and his meteoric rise redefined the meaning of heroism in the modern world.

The Marxists, for all their dislike of great men, grappled endlessly with the meaning of the 18th Brumaire; indeed one of France’s most eminent Marxist historians, George Lefebvre, wrote what arguably remains the finest of all biographies of him.

It was on this already vast Napoleon literature, a rich terrain for the scholar of ideas, that the great Dutch historian Pieter Geyl was lecturing in 1940 when he was arrested and sent to Buchenwald. There he composed what became one of the classics of historiography, a seminal book entitled Napoleon: For and Against, which charted how generations of intellectuals had happily served up one Napoleon after another. Like those poor souls who crowded the lunatic asylums of mid-19th century France convinced that they were Napoleon, generations of historians and novelists simply could not get him out of their head.

The debate runs on today no less intensely than in the past. Post-Second World War Marxists would argue that he was not, in fact, revolutionary at all. Eric Hobsbawm, a notable British Marxist historian, argued that ‘Most-perhaps all- of his ideas were anticipated by the Revolution’ and that Napoleon’s sole legacy was to twist the ideals of the French Revolution, and make them ‘more conservative, hierarchical and authoritarian’.

This contrasts deeply with the view William Doyle holds of Napoleon. Doyle described Bonaparte as ‘the Revolution incarnate’ and saw Bonaparte’s humbling of Europe’s other powers, the ‘Ancien Regimes’, as a necessary precondition for the birth of the modern world. Whatever one thinks of Napoleon’s character, his sharp intellect is difficult to deny. Even Paul Schroeder, one of Napoleon’s most scathing critics, who condemned his conduct of foreign policy as a ‘criminal enterprise’ never denied Napoleon’s intellect. Schroder concluded that Bonaparte ‘had an extraordinary capacity for planning, decision making, memory, work, mastery of detail and leadership’. The question of whether Napoleon used his genius for the betterment or the detriment of the world, is the heart of the debate which surrounds him.

France's foremost Napoleonic scholar, Jean Tulard, put forward the thesis that Bonaparte was the architect of modern France. "And I would say also pâtissier [a cake and pastry maker] because of the administrative millefeuille that we inherited." Oddly enough, in North America the multilayered mille-feuille cake is called ‘a napoleon.’ Tulard’s works are essential reading of how French historians have come to tackle the question of Napoleon’s legacy. He takes the view that if Napoleon had not crushed a Royalist rebellion and seized power in 1799, the French monarchy and feudalism would have returned, Tulard has written. "Like Cincinnatus in ancient Rome, Napoleon wanted a dictatorship of public salvation. He gets all the power, and, when the project is finished, he returns to his plough." In the event, the old order was never restored in France. When Louis XVIII became emperor in 1814, he served as a constitutional monarch.

In England, until recently the views on Napoleon have traditionally less charitable and more cynical. Professor Christopher Clark, the notable Cambridge University European historian, has written. "Napoleon was not a French patriot - he was first a Corsican and later an imperial figure, a journey in which he bypassed any deep affiliation with the French nation," Clark believed Napoleon’s relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent.

Did he stabilise the revolutionary state or shut it down mercilessly? Clark believes Napoleon seems to have done both. Napoleon rejected democracy, he suffocated the representative dimension of politics, and he created a culture of courtly display. A month before crowning himself emperor, Napoleon sought approval for establishing an empire from the French in a plebiscite; 3,572,329 voted in favour, 2,567 against. If that landslide resembles an election in North Korea, well, this was no secret ballot. Each ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was recorded, along with the name and address of the voter. Evidently, an overwhelming majority knew which side their baguette was buttered on.

His extravagant coronation in Notre Dame in December 1804 cost 8.5 million francs (€6.5 million or $8.5 million in today's money). He made his brothers, sisters and stepchildren kings, queens, princes and princesses and created a Napoleonic aristocracy numbering 3,500. By any measure, it was a bizarre progression for someone often described as ‘a child of the Revolution.’ By crowning himself emperor, the genuine European kings who surrounded him were not convinced. Always a warrior first, he tried to represent himself as a Caesar, and he wears a Roman toga on the bas-reliefs in his tomb. His coronation crown, a laurel wreath made of gold, sent the same message. His icon, the eagle, was also borrowed from Rome. But Caesar's legitimacy depended on military victories. Ultimately, Napoleon suffered too many defeats.

These days Napoleon the man and his times remain very much in fashion and we are living through something of a new golden age of Napoleonic literature. Those historians who over the past decade or so have had fun denouncing him as the first totalitarian dictator seem to have it all wrong: no angel, to be sure, he ended up doing far more at far less cost than any modern despot. In his widely praised 2014 biography, Napoleon the Great, Andrew Roberts writes: “The ideas that underpin our modern world - meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on - were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman empire.”

Roberts partly bases his historical judgement on newly released historical documents about Napoleon that were only available in the past decade and has proved to be a boon for all Napoleonic scholars. Newly released 33,000 letters Napoleon wrote that still survive are now used extensively to illustrate the astonishing capacity that Napoleon had for compartmentalising his mind - he laid down the rules for a girls’ boarding school on the eve of the battle of Borodino, for example, and the regulations for Paris’s Comédie-Française while camped in the Kremlin. They also show Napoleon’s extraordinary capacity for micromanaging his empire: he would write to the prefect of Genoa telling him not to allow his mistress into his box at the theatre, and to a corporal of the 13th Line regiment warning him not to drink so much.

For me to have my own perspective on Napoleon is tough. The problem is that nothing with Napoleon is simple, and almost every aspect of his personality is a maddening paradox. He was a military genius who led disastrous campaigns. He was a liberal progressive who reinstated slavery in the French colonies. And take the French Revolution, which came just before Napoleon’s rise to power, his relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent. Did he stabilise it or shut it down? I agree with those British and French historians who now believe Napoleon seems to have done both.

On the one hand, Napoleon did bring order to a nation that had been drenched in blood in the years after the Revolution. The French people had endured the crackdown known as the 'Reign of Terror', which saw so many marched to the guillotine, as well as political instability, corruption, riots and general violence. Napoleon’s iron will managed to calm the chaos. But he also rubbished some of the core principles of the Revolution. A nation which had boldly brought down the monarchy had to watch as Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, with more power and pageantry than Louis XVI ever had. He also installed his relatives as royals across Europe, creating a new aristocracy. In the words of French politician and author Lionel Jospin, 'He guaranteed some principles of the Revolution and at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it.'

He also had a feared henchman in the form of Joseph Fouché, who ran a secret police network which instilled dread in the population. Napoleon’s spies were everywhere, stifling political opposition. Dozens of newspapers were suppressed or shut down. Books had to be submitted for approval to the Commission of Revision, which sounds like something straight out of George Orwell. Some would argue Hitler and Stalin followed this playbook perfectly. But here come the contradictions. Napoleon also championed education for all, founding a network of schools. He championed the rights of the Jews. In the territories conquered by Napoleon, laws which kept Jews cooped up in ghettos were abolished. 'I will never accept any proposals that will obligate the Jewish people to leave France,' he once said, 'because to me the Jews are the same as any other citizen in our country.'

He also, crucially, developed the Napoleonic Code, a set of laws which replaced the messy, outdated feudal laws that had been used before. The Napoleonic Code clearly laid out civil laws and due processes, establishing a society based on merit and hard work, rather than privilege. It was rolled out far beyond France, and indisputably helped to modernise Europe. While it certainly had its flaws – women were ignored by its reforms, and were essentially regarded as the property of men – the Napoleonic Code is often brandished as the key evidence for Napoleon’s progressive credentials. In the words of historian Andrew Roberts, author of Napoleon the Great, 'the ideas that underpin our modern world… were championed by Napoleon'.

What about Napoleon’s battlefield exploits? If anything earns comparisons with Hitler, it’s Bonaparte’s apparent appetite for conquest. His forces tore down republics across Europe, and plundered works of art, much like the Nazis would later do. A rampant imperialist, Napoleon gleefully grabbed some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and allegedly boasted, 'the whole of Rome is in Paris.'

Napoleon has long enjoyed a stellar reputation as a field commander – his capacities as a military strategist, his ability to read a battle, the painstaking detail with which he made sure that he cold muster a larger force than his adversary or took maximum advantage of the lie of the land – these are stuff of the military legend that has built up around him. It is not without its critics, of course, especially among those who have worked intensively on the later imperial campaigns, in the Peninsula, in Russia, or in the final days of the Empire at Waterloo.

Doubts about his judgment, and allegations of rashness, have been raised in the context of some of his victories, too, most notably, perhaps, at Marengo. But overall his reputation remains largely intact, and his military campaigns have been taught in the curricula of military academies from Saint-Cyr to Sandhurst, alongside such great tacticians as Alexander the Great and Hannibal.

Historians may query his own immodest opinion that his presence on the battlefield was worth an extra forty thousand men to his cause, but it is clear that when he was not present (as he was not for most of the campaign in Spain) the French were wont to struggle. Napoleon understood the value of speed and surprise, but also of structures and loyalties. He reformed the army by introducing the corps system, and he understood military aspirations, rewarding his men with medals and honours; all of which helped ensure that he commanded exceptional levels of personal loyalty from his troops.

Yet, I do find it hard to side with the more staunch defenders of Napoleon who say his reputation as a war monger is to some extent due to British propaganda at the time. They will point out that the Napoleonic Wars, far from being Napoleon’s fault, were just a continuation of previous conflicts that arose thanks to the French Revolution. Napoleon, according to this analysis, inherited a messy situation, and his only real crime was to be very good at defeating enemies on the battlefield. I think that is really pushing things too far. I mean deciding to invade Spain and then Russia were his decisions to invade and conquer.

He was, by any measure, a genius of war. Even his nemesis the Duke of Wellington, when asked who the greatest general of his time was, replied: 'In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.'

I will qualify all this and agree that Napoleon’s Russian campaign has been rightly held up as a fatal folly which killed so many of his men, but this blunder – epic as it was – should not be compared to Hitler’s wars of evil aggression. Most historians will agree that comparing the two men is horribly flattering to Hitler - a man fuelled by visceral, genocidal hate - and demeaning to Napoleon, who was a product of Enlightenment thinking and left a legacy that in many ways improved Europe.

Napoleon was, of course, no libertarian, and no pluralist. He would tolerate no opposition to his rule, and though it was politicians and civilians who imposed his reforms, the army was never far behind. But comparisons with twentieth-century dictators are well wide of the mark. While he insisted on obedience from those he administered, his ideology was based not on division or hatred, but on administrative efficiency and submission to the law. And the state he believed in remained stubbornly secular.

In Catholic southern Europe, of course, that was not an approach with which it was easy to acquiesce; and disorder, insurgency and partisan attacks can all be counted among the results. But these were principles on which the Emperor would not and could not give ground. If he had beliefs they were not religious or spiritual beliefs, but the secular creed of a man who never forgot that he owed both his military career and his meteoric political rise to the French Revolution, and who never quite abandoned, amidst the monarchical symbolism and the court pomp of the Empire, the republican dreams of his youth. When he claimed, somewhat ambiguously, after the coup of 18 Brumaire that `the Revolution was over’, he almost certainly meant that the principles of 1789 had at last been consummated, and that the continuous cycle of violence of the 1790s could therefore come to an end.

When the Empire was declared in 1804, the wording, again, might seem curious, the French being informed that the `Republic would henceforth be ruled by an Emperor’. Napoleon might be a dictator, but a part at least of him remained a son of the Enlightenment.

The arguments over Napoleon’s status will continue - and that in itself is a testament to the power of one of the most complex figures ever to straddle the world’s stage.

Will the fascination with Napoleon continue for another 200 years?

In France, at least, enthusiasm looks set to diminish. Napoleon and his exploits are scarcely mentioned in French schools anymore. Stéphane Guégan, curator of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which, among other First Empire artworks, houses a plaster model of Napoleon dressed as a Roman emperor astride a horse, has described France's fascination with him as ‘a national illness.’ He believes that the people who met him were fascinated by his charm. And today, even the most hostile to Napoleon also face this charm. So there is a difficulty to apprehend the duality of this character. As he wrote, “He was born from the revolution, he extended and finished it, and after 1804 he turns into a despot, a dictator.”

In France, Guégan aptly observes, there is a kind of nostalgia, not for dictatorship but for strong leaders. "Our age is suffering a lack of imagination and political utopia,"

Here I think Guégan is onto something. Napoleon’s stock has always risen or fallen according to the vicissitudes of world events and fortunes of France itself.

In the past, history was the study of great men and women. Today the focus of teaching is on trends, issues and movements. France in 1800 is no longer about Louis XVI and Napoleon Bonaparte. It's about the industrial revolution. Man does not make history. History makes men. Or does it? The study of history makes a mug out of those with such simple ideological driven conceits.

For two hundred years on, the French still cannot agree on whether Napoleon was a hero or a villain as he has swung like a pendulum according to the gravitational pull of historical events and forces.

The question I keep asking of myself and also to French friends with whom I discuss such things is what kind of Napoleon does our generation need?

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #napoleon #french #french history #history #military history #bonaparte #france #historiography #republic #historians #personal

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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In light of all that we’ve learned with this most wonderful final season, some people have asked me to reassess Hordak’s backstory monologue. To see how Hordak’s narrative fits with what we now know about his home. To try to discern exactly what its discrepancies are, and why.

I’m going to do that! But before I do, I would remind everyone: this is a little difficult to fully untangle because, given that Hordak is not a main character and thus does not have the focus that we’d like, we really don’t know a whole lot about the Horde in terms of function, social roles, and general history. So this is going to be very much limited by what I can glean from exactly what the show gives us.

That said, it’ll hopefully still be interesting. So!

During season three, after recovering from his syncopal episode, Hordak describes to Entrapta what he is, what he was, and how he came to be on Etheria. He describes himself as a defective clone who, once upon a time, was the top general in the galactic Horde. When his defect became too much of a burden, he was apparently demoted, sent to the front lines to fight until death, and arrived on Etheria by way of unexplained portal.

This is what Hordak tells us, and, as far as we know, he’s not lying. Hordak, as portrayed in the show, is a very honest person, both in his own actions and in the actions he expects of others. He greatly dislikes deception and does not appear skillfully capable of it himself (save for that one time). Knowing this, we generally have to assume that, in his own mind, what Hordak is saying is true.

So. What gives, right?

After all, once we see the galactic Horde in action, we learn that it is a played-straight, honest-to-the-gods cult. There’s nothing distinctly military about it. It’s not a bigger, grander version of Hordak’s Etherian Horde.

It is a cult with a god-brother-creator at the helm, commanding countless identical acolytes who live their lives in slavish devotion to their master. There do not appear to be any ranks. We hear nothing about any generals, let alone a “top general.” There doesn’t even appear to be a need for anything like that, because Prime doesn’t seem to really delegate to his brothers in a way that singles them out or relies on real autonomy from them.

He can, after all, read their minds at will and slip into their bodies whenever he fancies. If he needs to make a decision about a battle on a planet at the other edge of the galaxy, he can just take over a body on that planet and make said decision himself. Or, at the very least, enter the relevant clone’s mind and influence the decision as needed. He doesn’t need, and certainly doesn’t appear to tolerate, clones taking their own initiative.

So, again: what gives? What does Hordak mean by “top general”? Why does he think he has this elevated role when we can see that Prime considers all of his clones the equivalent of faceless bodies to be used a he likes?

Well, while we will likely never know the full truth, given the lack of Horde background detail, we can safely assume some things from what canon shows us.

Namely that, while all clones appear indistinguishable and do not seem to have named rank, there are definitely clone positions that work more closely with Prime than others. His attendants are one example. Those who are in his throne room feeding him information while he is working are another. (Hordak actually appears to be one of these, at least while Prime is trying to hack the Heart of Etheria, when Entrapta is captured.) And then, of course, there are the chosen vessels that will one day house Prime’s consciousness.

All of these positions can likely be occupied by any clone, with bodies switched out as needed (likely what happened when Hordak got sick). I doubt that individual clones have any sort of real rank. Prime knows this. Hordak and his brothers, I suspect, may not fully understand it.

Rather, I would not be surprised if Hordak, deceived and indoctrinated into believing things about himself and about Prime that are not true, misinterprets the nature of his purpose and the truth of his relationship with his Brother. He believes that, fulfilling whatever role he was fulfilling for Prime, he was a general, an individual of note, an individual that Prime specially valued. Perhaps he fulfilled the role long enough that, in all but name, it became “his.” Perhaps he even fulfilled it well enough that Prime praised him frequently, cementing this unfortunate delusion. Perhaps Prime gave him legitimate favor - a false thing, of course; simply a controlling tool, but Hordak did not realize that.

Without canon confirmation, we can really only speculate, but these ideas seem reasonable.

Details aside, the point of the matter is that Hordak sees himself as “top general” because he sadly doesn’t understand that he is an interchangeable piece of a utilitarian machine. He truly thinks that he has this coveted position, that he is particularly useful, special, of great value. It’s a tragic misunderstanding that simply fuels his misguided devotion to Prime and prevents him from seeking freedom when he is given the opportunity.

It’s something, I think, that people in very controlling religious organizations often end up thinking: that they are especially valued, worthy in some way that others are not. It’s part of how the organization controls them.

By the by, there is also the theory that Hordak has suffered memory erasure before and is thus doubly confused, filling in blanks with fantasy, but given that we have no direct evidence of that, I’m not really going to go into it; it’s a popular bit of speculation, though.

Now, however, let us examine a different aspect of this. Labels aside, delusions aside, we are left with another conundrum: however Hordak interprets his position, it is very clear to us that said position does not actually offer the power or respect that a legitimate high military rank would offer. It does not appear to provide Hordak with any special treatment.

Once upon a time, back when we first learned of Hordak’s backstory, it was somewhat assumed that the position would do something like this. Numerous fans speculated about how it might be a position that gave a clone dominion over others, or over their own personal ships or planets; some fans suggested that it might give a clone the right to a name. Now, of course, we know that none of these speculations are true: all of Prime’s clones are essentially interchangeable; all are part of a hive mind that eliminates the need for certain clones directing others; no clone is allowed a name, no matter what their current job might be.

So. What, exactly, is Hordak practically gaining here? Despite this position appearing to hold zero effective esteem, despite it necessitating Hordak giving up his self and his autonomy, it is abundantly clear that he desperately wants it back. Why?

What about this position, whatever it may or may not be called, would provide Hordak with this sense of value, of specialness, of personal worth? After all, Hordak may be deluded, but he’s not stupid; even indoctrinated, he can tell that he doesn’t hold dominion over other clones, or have a right to his own name. He can tell that he doesn’t receive any functional privileges, that his own sense of value doesn’t translate into anything that you or I would think is “worth the price of admission,” so to speak.

In light of that incredibly steep price, what does this position offer, in a world where military rank appears irrelevant? What does it offer, in exchange for Hordak’s name and his bodily autonomy and his freedom? In short, what does it offer that makes Hordak think it worth sacrificing so much for?

Well.

It offers closeness to Prime, doesn’t it? It offers the chance to work near him, to bask in his presence, to be spoken to and looked upon and touched by him. It offers the chance to receive his praise, personally. It offers the chance to perhaps - hopefully, wishfully - receive his love.

Because that’s what Hordak really wants. Not dominion over others, or a fancy military title. He wants that emotional connection. He wants that approval and validation. He wants love. And for so much of the series, for so much of his life, he believes that love comes only from Prime. That working closely with him, being of use to him, will provide him with that sense of belonging and acceptance and affectionate care that he hungers for. That it will make him worthy and loved.

(There’s a line in the deleted Entrapdak scene, where Prime calls Hordak the “most unloved and unworthy” among his brothers that really cements the idea that worthiness is synonymous with love within the galactic Horde)

This is what marks the position as “special” in Hordak’s eyes: it is special because it stands the greatest chance of providing him with Prime’s love.

All of it is a lie, of course. Because Prime only “loves” his brothers as extensions of himself, and even then, only if they are physically useful to him. Once Hordak starts to lag behind due to his illness, he is quickly removed from Prime’s presence and sent to the front lines, destined to fight until defect or battle kills him. And yet it is a lie so powerful, and the clones’ need for Prime’s love so great, that he is able to use it to control them even when they are separated from him. To the point that a sickly clone trapped in a shadow dimension will forgo freedom in his desperate bid to feel wanted and treasured by his cruel god.

Eventually, thankfully, Hordak finds a true version of the connection he craves, someone who looks at him and acknowledges him, values him and loves him as he is, without him needing to prove himself useful. He finds Entrapta, and she provides that love that he sought from Prime.

This is why, even though Hordak actually ends up working in Prime’s throne room again, ends up close to him once more, he breaks free from control and kills his Brother. Throughout season five, Hordak remembers Entrapta. He remembers how she makes him feel. He remembers her love... and he realizes that it is not the same as Prime's. It is sincere. It is unconditional. It accepts him as his own flawed person, rather than the perfect drone Prime wants him to be. It is deeper and more true and more real than the hollow sham Prime offers.

And so Hordak rejects this once-coveted position, rejects Prime, and frees himself. He makes the choice between a false, controlling “love” and the real, heartfelt thing. He makes the choice, and he chooses Entrapta.

In the end, the greatest disconnect between what Hordak tells us in season three and what is true isn’t the word “general,” or even the cruel difference between how Prime views the clones, and how they view him. It is the impression of why Hordak wants such a position at all, of what it means to him. What initially comes off as a disgraced military man seeking to regain former glory is actually a lost, unloved soul desperately searching for the emotional connection he needs.

And, after many mistakes, after much hardship, he finally finds it.

#hordak #horde prime #entrapta #entrapdak #she ra

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blind-rats · 3 years

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The Rise & Fall of Joss Whedon; the Myth of the Hollywood Feminist Hero

By Kelly Faircloth

“I hate ‘feminist.’ Is this a good time to bring that up?” Joss Whedon asked. He paused knowingly, waiting for the laughs he knew would come at the creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer making such a statement.

It was 2013, and Whedon was onstage at a fundraiser for Equality Now, a human rights organization dedicated to legal equality for women. Though Buffy had been off the air for more than a decade, its legacy still loomed large; Whedon was widely respected as a man with a predilection for making science fiction with strong women for protagonists. Whedon went on to outline why, precisely, he hated the term: “You can’t be born an ‘ist,’” he argued, therefore, “‘feminist’ includes the idea that believing men and women to be equal, believing all people to be people, is not a natural state, that we don’t emerge assuming that everybody in the human race is a human, that the idea of equality is just an idea that’s imposed on us.”

The speech was widely praised and helped cement his pop-cultural reputation as a feminist, in an era that was very keen on celebrity feminists. But it was also, in retrospect, perhaps the high water mark for Whedon’s ability to claim the title, and now, almost a decade later, that reputation is finally in tatters, prompting a reevaluation of not just Whedon’s work, but the narrative he sold about himself.

In July 2020, actor Ray Fisher accused Whedon of being “gross, abusive, unprofessional, and completely unacceptable” on the Justice League set when Whedon took over for Zach Synder as director to finish the project. Charisma Carpenter then described her own experiences with Whedon in a long post to Twitter, hashtagged #IStandWithRayFisher.

On Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, Carpenter played Cordelia, a popular character who morphed from snob to hero—one of those strong female characters that made Whedon’s feminist reputation—before being unceremoniously written off the show in a plot that saw her thrust into a coma after getting pregnant with a demon. For years, fans have suspected that her disappearance was related to her real-life pregnancy. In her statement, Carpenter appeared to confirm the rumors. “Joss Whedon abused his power on numerous occasions while working on the sets of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ and ‘Angel,’” she wrote, describing Fisher’s firing as the last straw that inspired her to go public.

Buffy was a landmark of late 1990s popular culture, beloved by many a burgeoning feminist, grad student, gender studies professor, and television critic for the heroine at the heart of the show, the beautiful blonde girl who balanced monster-killing with high school homework alongside ancillary characters like the shy, geeky Willow. Buffy was very nearly one of a kind, an icon of her era who spawned a generation of leather-pants-wearing urban fantasy badasses and women action heroes.

Buffy was so beloved, in fact, that she earned Whedon a similarly privileged place in fans’ hearts and a broader reputation as a man who championed empowered women characters. In the desert of late ’90s and early 2000s popular culture, Whedon was heralded as that rarest of birds—the feminist Hollywood man. For many, he was an example of what more equitable storytelling might look like, a model for how to create compelling women protagonists who were also very, very fun to watch. But Carpenter’s accusations appear to have finally imploded that particular bit of branding, revealing a different reality behind the scenes and prompting a reevaluation of the entire arc of Whedon’s career: who he was and what he was selling all along.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer premiered March 1997, midseason, on The WB, a two-year-old network targeting teens with shows like 7th Heaven. Its beginnings were not necessarily auspicious; it was a reboot of a not-particularly-blockbuster 1992 movie written by third-generation screenwriter Joss Whedon. (His grandfather wrote for The Donna Reed Show; his father wrote for Golden Girls.) The show followed the trials of a stereotypical teenage California girl who moved to a new town and a new school after her parents’ divorce—only, in a deliberate inversion of horror tropes, the entire town sat on top of the entrance to Hell and hence was overrun with demons. Buffy was a slayer, a young woman with the power and immense responsibility to fight them. After the movie turned out very differently than Whedon had originally envisioned, the show was a chance for a do-over, more of a Valley girl comedy than serious horror.

It was layered, it was campy, it was ironic and self-aware. It looked like it belonged on the WB rather than one of the bigger broadcast networks, unlike the slickly produced prestige TV that would follow a few years later. Buffy didn’t fixate on the gory glory of killing vampires—really, the monsters were metaphors for the entire experience of adolescence, in all its complicated misery. Almost immediately, a broad cross-section of viewers responded enthusiastically. Critics loved it, and it would be hugely influential on Whedon’s colleagues in television; many argue that it broke ground in terms of what you could do with a television show in terms of serialized storytelling, setting the stage for the modern TV era. Academics took it up, with the show attracting a tremendous amount of attention and discussion.

In 2002, the New York Times covered the first academic conference dedicated to the show. The organizer called Buffy “a tremendously rich text,” hence the flood of papers with titles like “Pain as Bright as Steel: The Monomyth and Light in ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer,’” which only gathered speed as the years passed. And while it was never the highest-rated show on television, it attracted an ardent core of fans.

But what stood out the most was the show’s protagonist: a young woman who stereotypically would have been a monster movie victim, with the script flipped: instead of screaming and swooning, she staked the vampires. This was deliberate, the core conceit of the concept, as Whedon said in many, many interviews. The helpless horror movie girl killed in the dark alley instead walks out victorious. He told Time in 1997 that the concept was born from the thought, “I would love to see a movie in which a blond wanders into a dark alley, takes care of herself and deploys her powers.” In Whedon’s framing, it was particularly important that it was a woman who walked out of that alley. He told another publication in 2002 that “the very first mission statement of the show” was “the joy of female power: having it, using it, sharing it.”

In 2021, when seemingly every new streaming property with a woman as its central character makes some half-baked claim to feminism, it’s easy to forget just how much Buffy stood out among its against its contemporaries. Action movies—with exceptions like Alien’s Ripley and Terminator 2's Sarah Conner—were ruled by hulking tough guys with macho swagger. When women appeared on screen opposite vampires, their primary job was to expose long, lovely, vulnerable necks. Stories and characters that bucked these larger currents inspired intense devotion, from Angela Chase of My So-Called Life to Dana Scully of The X-Files.

The broader landscape, too, was dismal. It was the conflicted era of girl power, a concept that sprang up in the wake of the successes of the second-wave feminist movement and the backlash that followed. Young women were constantly exposed to you-can-do-it messaging that juxtaposed uneasily with the reality of the world around them. This was the era of shitty, sexist jokes about every woman who came into Bill Clinton’s orbit and the leering response to the arrival of Britney Spears; Rush Limbaugh was a fairly mainstream figure.

At one point, Buffy competed against Ally McBeal, a show that dedicated an entire episode to a dancing computer-generated baby following around its lawyer main character, her biological clock made zanily literal. Consider this line from a New York Times review of the Buffy’s 1997 premiere: “Given to hot pants and boots that should guarantee the close attention of Humbert Humberts all over America, Buffy is just your average teen-ager, poutily obsessed with clothes and boys.”

Against that background, Buffy was a landmark. Besides the simple fact of its woman protagonist, there were unique plots, like the coming-out story for her friend Willow. An ambivalent 1999 piece in Bitch magazine, even as it explored the show’s tank-top heavy marketing, ultimately concluded, “In the end, it’s precisely this contextual conflict that sets Buffy apart from the rest and makes her an appealing icon. Frustrating as her contradictions may be, annoying as her babe quotient may be, Buffy still offers up a prime-time heroine like no other.”

A 2016 Atlantic piece, adapted from a book excerpt, makes the case that Buffy is perhaps best understood as an icon of third-wave feminism: “In its examination of individual and collective empowerment, its ambiguous politics of racial representation and its willing embrace of contradiction, Buffy is a quintessentially third-wave cultural production.” The show was vested with all the era’s longing for something better than what was available, something different, a champion for a conflicted “post-feminist” era—even if she was an imperfect or somewhat incongruous vessel. It wasn’t just Sunnydale that needed a chosen Slayer, it was an entire generation of women. That fact became intricately intertwined with Whedon himself.

Seemingly every interview involved a discussion of his fondness for stories about strong women. “I’ve always found strong women interesting, because they are not overly represented in the cinema,” he told New York for a 1997 piece that notes he studied both film and “gender and feminist issues” at Wesleyan; “I seem to be the guy for strong action women,’’ he told the New York Times in 1997 with an aw-shucks sort of shrug. ‘’A lot of writers are just terrible when it comes to writing female characters. They forget that they are people.’’ He often cited the influence of his strong, “hardcore feminist” mother, and even suggested that his protagonists served feminist ends in and of themselves: “If I can make teenage boys comfortable with a girl who takes charge of a situation without their knowing that’s what’s happening, it’s better than sitting down and selling them on feminism,” he told Time in 1997.

When he was honored by the organization Equality Now in 2006 for his “outstanding contribution to equality in film and television,” Whedon made his speech an extended riff on the fact that people just kept asking him about it, concluding with the ultimate answer: “Because you’re still asking me that question.” He presented strong women as a simple no-brainer, and he was seemingly always happy to say so, at a time when the entertainment business still seemed ruled by unapologetic misogynists. The internet of the mid-2010s only intensified Whedon’s anointment as a prototypical Hollywood ally, with reporters asking him things like how men could best support the feminist movement.

Whedon’s response: “A guy who goes around saying ‘I’m a feminist’ usually has an agenda that is not feminist. A guy who behaves like one, who actually becomes involved in the movement, generally speaking, you can trust that. And it doesn’t just apply to the action that is activist. It applies to the way they treat the women they work with and they live with and they see on the street.” This remark takes on a great deal of irony in light of Carpenter’s statement.

In recent years, Whedon’s reputation as an ally began to wane. Partly, it was because of the work itself, which revealed more and more cracks as Buffy receded in the rearview mirror. Maybe it all started to sour with Dollhouse, a TV show that imagined Eliza Dushku as a young woman rented out to the rich and powerful, her mind wiped after every assignment, a concept that sat poorly with fans. (Though Whedon, while he was publicly unhappy with how the show had turned out after much push-and-pull with the corporate bosses at Fox, still argued the conceit was “the most pure feminist and empowering statement I’d ever made—somebody building themselves from nothing,” in a 2012 interview with Wired.)

After years of loud disappointment with the TV bosses at Fox on Firefly and Dollhouse, Whedon moved into big-budget Hollywood blockbusters. He helped birth the Marvel-dominated era of movies with his work as director of The Avengers. But his second Avengers movie, Age of Ultron, was heavily criticized for a moment in which Black Widow laid out her personal reproductive history for the Hulk, suggesting her sterilization somehow made her a “monster.” In June 2017, his un-filmed script for a Wonder Woman adaptation leaked, to widespread mockery. The script’s introduction of Diana was almost leering: “To say she is beautiful is almost to miss the point. She is elemental, as natural and wild as the luminous flora surrounding. Her dark hair waterfalls to her shoulders in soft arcs and curls. Her body is curvaceous, but taut as a drawn bow.”

But Whedon’s real fall from grace began in 2017, right before MeToo spurred a cultural reckoning. His ex-wife, Kai Cole, published a piece in The Wrap accusing him of cheating off and on throughout their relationship and calling him a hypocrite:

“Despite understanding, on some level, that what he was doing was wrong, he never conceded the hypocrisy of being out in the world preaching feminist ideals, while at the same time, taking away my right to make choices for my life and my body based on the truth. He deceived me for 15 years, so he could have everything he wanted. I believed, everyone believed, that he was one of the good guys, committed to fighting for women’s rights, committed to our marriage, and to the women he worked with. But I now see how he used his relationship with me as a shield, both during and after our marriage, so no one would question his relationships with other women or scrutinize his writing as anything other than feminist.”

But his reputation was just too strong; the accusation that he didn’t practice what he preached didn’t quite stick. A spokesperson for Whedon told the Wrap: “While this account includes inaccuracies and misrepresentations which can be harmful to their family, Joss is not commenting, out of concern for his children and out of respect for his ex-wife. Many minimized the essay on the basis that adultery doesn’t necessarily make you a bad feminist or erase a legacy. Whedon similarly seemed to shrug off Ray Fisher’s accusations of creating a toxic workplace; instead, Warner Media fired Fisher.

But Carpenter’s statement—which struck right at the heart of his Buffy-based legacy for progressivism—may finally change things. Even at the time, the plotline in which Charisma Carpenter was written off Angel—carrying a demon child that turned her into “Evil Cordelia,” ending the season in a coma, and quite simply never reappearing—was unpopular. Asked about what had happened in a 2009 panel at DragonCon, she said that “my relationship with Joss became strained,” continuing: “We all go through our stuff in general [behind the scenes], and I was going through my stuff, and then I became pregnant. And I guess in his mind, he had a different way of seeing the season go… in the fourth season.”

“I think Joss was, honestly, mad. I think he was mad at me and I say that in a loving way, which is—it’s a very complicated dynamic working for somebody for so many years, and expectations, and also being on a show for eight years, you gotta live your life. And sometimes living your life gets in the way of maybe the creator’s vision for the future. And that becomes conflict, and that was my experience.”

In her statement on Twitter, Carpenter alleged that after Whedon was informed of her pregnancy, he called her into a closed-door meeting and “asked me if I was ‘going to keep it,’ and manipulatively weaponized my womanhood and faith against me.” She added that “he proceeded to attack my character, mock my religious beliefs, accuse me of sabotaging the show, and then unceremoniously fired me following the season once I gave birth.” Carpenter said that he called her fat while she was four months pregnant and scheduled her to work at 1 a.m. while six months pregnant after her doctor had recommended shortening her hours, a move she describes as retaliatory. What Carpenter describes, in other words, is an absolutely textbook case of pregnancy discrimination in the workplace, the type of bullshit the feminist movement exists to fight—at the hands of the man who was for years lauded as a Hollywood feminist for his work on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.

Many of Carpenter’s colleagues from Buffy and Angel spoke out in support, including Buffy herself, Sarah Michelle Gellar. “While I am proud to have my name associated with Buffy Summers, I don’t want to be forever associated with the name Joss Whedon,” she said in a statement. Just shy of a decade after that 2013 speech, many of the cast members on the show that put him on that stage are cutting ties.

Whedon garnered a reputation as pop culture’s ultimate feminist man because Buffy did stand out so much, an oasis in a wasteland. But in 2021, the idea of a lone man being responsible for creating women’s stories—one who told the New York Times, “I seem to be the guy for strong action women”—seems like a relic. It’s depressing to consider how many years Hollywood’s first instinct for “strong action women” wasn’t a woman, and to think about what other people could have done with those resources. When Wonder Woman finally reached the screen, to great acclaim, it was with a woman as director.

Besides, Whedon didn’t make Buffy all by himself—many, many women contributed, from the actresses to the writers to the stunt workers, and his reputation grew so large it eclipsed their part in the show’s creation. Even as he preached feminism, Whedon benefitted from one of the oldest, most sexist stereotypes: the man who’s a benevolent, creative genius. And Buffy, too, overshadowed all the other contributors who redefined who could be a hero on television and in speculative fiction, from individual actors like Gillian Anderson to the determined, creative women who wrote science fiction and fantasy over the last several decades to—perhaps most of all—the fans who craved different, better stories. Buffy helped change what you could put on TV, but it didn’t create the desire to see a character like her. It was that desire, as much as Whedon himself, that gave Buffy the Vampire Slayer her power.

#Joss Whedon #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #Ray Fisher #Charisma Carpenter #Feminist

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

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There's Sand Everywhere!

(quick shoutout to @fires-of-ninjago for the title idea and inspiration for this- you remember that ask game where people suggested titles for fics and you had to come up with a story to go along with it? Well, he sent in this title, and I came up with this, and liked it so much that I screenshotted it and- here we are!)

Prompts: Summer and Heist

Word Count: 7,922

Characters: The whole gang (including Pixal) :)

Timeline: Between seasons 12 and 13

Trigger Warnings: none (holy shit that's never happened before-)

Summary: It was just supposed to be a day off. A simple beach day. But when your family consists of six ninja and a samurai, including a nindroid convinced he’s a detective, his reluctant sidekick, an aquaphobe, a girl who can command the sea, an unassuming teen who seems to attract every animal he crosses paths with, and a bunch of argumentative idiots, nothing is ever that easy.

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Tumblr work under the cut

“We,” Kai proclaimed, surveying the room, “Need a day off.”

Lloyd shrieked at the fire ninja’s sudden outburst, falling out of his chair. Jay broke into snickers, and Lloyd shot him a glare.

“Kai,” Zane sighed, “get off the table.”

Kai stuck his tongue out at the nindroid, but hopped down, anyway. “Look at you guys!” Kai waved his hands at the group for emphasis. Papers fluttered to the ground where Lloyd had knocked them in his fall, Jay and Nya were sitting on the ground, surrounded by stacks of books tall enough to be mistaken for some kind of fort, Pixal was gathering some of the papers that had gone everywhere, while Cole and Zane had only just paused in their task of boxing up and carrying crates to the far side of the room. “Filing documents and organizing? Boooring.”

“Tasks which you’ve been a big help with, by the way,” Lloyd grumbled, as Cole offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. He turned back to the desk, shuffling papers off of the keyboard of his laptop, the screen filled with lines of script and dozens of files that made Kai's brain hurt just to look at.

Nya pushed her reading glasses up her nose. “Jay and I technically aren’t working. We chose to do this of our own free will.”

Kai rolled his eyes at her. “What kind of psychopaths read for fun?”

Jay kicked his leg out, aiming for Kai’s ankle, but Cole quickly stepped between them, stopping the conflict before it could escalate into anything worse.

“We’re not reading them, we’re sorting them in order from most potentially useful to least so. They’re mechanics and engineering books. You never know when they might come in handy in a pinch.”

“Oh, because that’s so much more interesting. If you guys wanna spend all your free time geeking out, fine, what do I care. But what about the rest of you? C’mon, Lloydster. You don’t really wanna spend your entire day doing this,” he gestured at the laptop and paper-strewn desk- “do you?”

“It’s not about whether or not I want to. This stuff is important, Kai.”

“Lloyd’s right,” Zane agreed. “With all the crazy missions we’ve been on lately, we’ve neglected all our paperwork, and taking care of the Monastery.”

“It’s because we’ve been gone so long that we need a break!” Kai argued. “We just got done saving the entire city from an evil video game AI! If that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.”

“Technically,” Nya remarked, not even glancing up from the book she was skimming, “That was Jay who did that.”

Kai spluttered, ignoring the smug look on Jay’s face. “Okay, yeah, but we helped! And what about Aspheera? Or the Never Realm? That was all of us. And we didn’t have time to properly recuperate from that before we got launched right into Prime Empire!”

Pixal’s brow furrowed. “Y’know, he has a point…”

A frown flitted across Zane’s face. “I suppose we have been working for a long time…”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! Come on, let’s do something fun.”

“Not video games,” Cole groaned. “Jay and I spent the last three days playing a Lava Zombies tournament, and I’m all gamed-out.”

“No, let’s actually go somewhere. Like the-”

“The library!” Jay pitched.

“Or the museum!” Zane suggested.

“No!” Kai snapped. “Man, you guys are so lame. I meant somewhere fun. We should go to-”

“The beach!” Nya cried suddenly, standing up so quickly that she sent a pile of books toppling over. “Brilliant idea, Kai!”

“Wait, no,” he yelped. “That’s not what I was going to-”

But no one heard him. They were already scrambling to their feet, murmuring excitedly to one another.

“Guys, wait!” he cried. “Why would you want to go to the beach? It’s all sandy, and wet, and-”

“Don’t worry, Kai,” Nya giggled, “we won’t let the ocean hurt you.”

“That’s not-” he felt himself turning red as the others laughed. “That’s not what I meant! I just thought… wouldn’t laser tag or something be a lot more fun?”

The others glanced at each other, uncertain. Zane stepped forward. “Let’s take a vote. All in favor of laser tag, raise your hands.”

Kai lifted his hand, but no one else did. He scowled at them.

“And all in favor of the beach?”

Six hands went up.

“Seems like we have a clear winner. Let’s get going, shall we?”

---

“Do you have the towels?”

“All here!”

“What about the sunscreen?”

“Hold on- Jay, did you grab the sunscreen?”

“What?”

Lloyd cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling louder. “Did you grab the sunscreen?”

“Oh yeah, it’s here! Wait, do you have my-”

“Your what?” Lloyd called, walking over to him, passing Pixal and Zane as they came out of the kitchen. The female nindroid sighed.

“Can’t anything get done around here without everyone making such a racket?”

“Nope,” Nya elbowed her playfully. “When you’ve been with these idiots as long as I have, you get used to it.”

Pixal’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine ever being used to all this.”

Nya smiled. “Did I mention I’m slightly deaf?”

“We finished making the picnic,” Zane told her, holding out the basket he was carrying. “Is everyone ready to go?”

Nya eyed the guys, who were running around the Monastery, barely avoiding tripping over one another. “‘Ready’ is an overstatement.”

“Hold your horses, we’re almost done,” Cole grunted, heaving the large beach bag over to them. “Have a little faith in us, Nya.”

Nya put her hand on her hip, waiting- and a second later, there was a crashing sound followed by an angry chorus of yells from Kai, Lloyd, and Jay.

Cole grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. “Okay, maybe you’re right to not have any faith in us.”

---

After an intense, fifteen-minute argument about what mode of transportation they would take, they ended up deciding on the city bus, and finally, finally got out the door. The bus ride went off without a hitch, for once, (except for a brief panic about not having the proper change for the bus fare, but luckily Zane had a few extra dollars on him), and before Nya knew it, they were staking out an area on Ninjago City beach. She was beginning to think this could actually work out.

Maybe.

“Check out my abs, dude.”

“They’re the same as last time.”

“Are not! I’m way more shredded than last time we went swimming.”

“Okay, that’s just a straight-up lie. I saw you sneak that extra piece of pie last night.”

“You better not be disrespecting my muscles, Flat Stanley.”

“Hey! I’m way more muscly than I used to be.”

“Are you kidding? We call you ‘green bean’ for a reason, and it’s not just because you’re the green ninja. You’re a twig!”

“I’m a twig? Have you seen Jay?”

“Hey, don’t rope me into this, green machine, and, for your information, I weigh a whole fifteen pounds more than you!”

“Yeah, well, you’re also two years older than me!”

“I think the lesson we need to learn here is that neither of you have abs anywhere near as pronounced as mine-”

Zane sighed, rolling his eyes. “Here, guys,” he held out a pouch to the group, “this is a waterproof pouch, you can store all your valuables in here.”

They quickly filled the pouch with phones, watches, and wallets. However, as Lloyd pulled back, he tripped over Jay’s foot, and half the guys collapsed into a pile, groaning.

“Jay! Get your foot out of my face!”

“Right after you get your elbow out of my ribs!”

Nya turned away from them, shaking her head. Glancing at Pixal, she asked, “Wanna help me get set up?”

The nindroid nodded, and they pulled the large picnic blanket out of the bag, unfolding it to lay it across the sand.

“Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon,” Kai cried, “You get back here right this instant!”

Nya looked up from the blanket to see Kai running through the sand after Lloyd, his feet sinking into the sand with each step, making it difficult for him to retain his balance. He waved a bottle of sunscreen at the green ninja. “It’s sunny out today! And you know how easily you burn!”

“No way!” Lloyd whined. “You always make me stay out of the water for at least twenty minutes to let it set, and it’s way too hot for me to wait that long! I wanna go swimming now.”

Kai lunged for him, and Lloyd yelped, barely dodging out of the way.

“Over here, Lloyd!” Jay cried, already wading into the shallows of the ocean. “He won’t follow you into the water!”

Lloyd hurried after him, splashing up water as he went, accidentally splattering Kai and causing the red ninja to flinch back with a yelp. Sure enough, he froze at the water’s edge, glaring at Jay and Lloyd, where they stood, only about ten feet away, laughing at him.

Zane rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. “They’re both going to get skin cancer, aren’t they?”

“At the very least, they’re going to be bright red tomatoes,” Cole laughed. “Oh, it’s going to be a blast when they take showers.”

Zane stared at him, horrified. “Please don’t let Jay do that again. He had the worst blisters, last time-”

Cole held up his hands. “It was a joke, Zane! A joke!”

Zane narrowed his eyes and didn’t reply.

Nya laughed, grabbing Pixal’s hand. “Come on. Wanna go bodyboarding with me?”

Pixal glanced at her. “I don’t know how.”

“That’s fine.” Nya stepped on the board, flipping it up into her hand and handing it to Pixal, before grabbing a second one for herself. “I can teach you!”

“Thanks, Nya.”

As they walked down towards the shore, they passed Kai and Cole, who had finally managed to get Jay and Lloyd out of the water. Cole had his arms locked around Jay, preventing him from running away as Kai slathered sunscreen across his face. Lloyd was sitting in the sand beside him, pouting, his face already smeared in white.

Nya grinned at him. “Can you guys handle yourselves for twenty minutes if Pix and I go out bodyboarding?”

Lloyd stuck his tongue out at her, and Kai rolled his eyes. “We’ll be fine, Nya. I think you’re forgetting we save the city on a regular basis? We’re perfectly capable.”

Nya put a hand near Pixal’s ear, whispering loudly into it. “Betcha anything the beach will be on fire by the time we get back.”

The two ran off, giggling at the sight of Kai’s smoldering glare, before he could set them on fire.

---

To Kai’s credit, he did not set the beach on fire, or anything, for that matter, but when Nya and Pixal returned, they found him and Cole shoveling sand onto Zane, who was chest-deep by this point.

“Zane!” Pixal exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“When Kai told me he had something fun to show me, this wasn’t quite what I had imagined.”

“Aww, come on Zane!” Kai grinned. “I’m having a great time.”

Pixal shook her head, and stepped forward, grabbing Zane’s hand and pulling him up, sending sand cascading down everywhere. Cole and Kai groaned.

“Aww, come on, Pix, that took forever!” Cole muttered.

“Yeah, we were gonna shape it into a mermaid tail. Don’t you know how funny that would’ve been?”

“Humor is subjective.” Zane rubbed at his wrists. “Augh, now I’m going to have sand in my gears for weeks.” Shooting a glare at Kai, he added, “I’ll remember this the next time you ditch your swimming lessons.”

“Hey!” Kai yelped. “That’s totally different! Sand is warm, and solid, and most importantly, not dangerous!”

“You could suffocate,” Zane pointed out.

Kai scowled. “You’re a nindroid, you wouldn’t have suffocated.”

“You’re related to an elemental master of water. You won’t drown.”

“Being related to a master of water and being a master of water are two very different things! I control fire, not water, I can’t do anything to protect myself.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re so lame. Remind me again why we brought our friend with aquaphobia to the beach?”

“Technically,” Zane said, raising a finger, “the word you’re looking for is thalassophobia. Kai doesn’t fear water in general, only large bodies, such as-”

“It was his idea,” Nya interrupted. “If it weren’t for him, we’d still be at the Monastery, filing papers.”

“I never suggested the beach!” Kai snapped. “That was your idea!”

“Yeah, well, your suggestions were lame. The beach was the obvious choice.”

“Hey,” Pixal interjected, suddenly realizing they were missing a couple of people. “Where are Jay and Lloyd?”

Cole sighed, pointing up towards their stuff, where Jay and Lloyd were struggling with a large, yellow duck inflatable that was very much not inflated at the moment. Jay had his lips around the mouthpiece, his face red.

“Blow harder, Jay,” Lloyd insisted, hovering by his side. “You’re hardly doing anything!”

Jay pulled his head back, breathing out heavily as the redness faded from his cheeks. “I’d like to see you do better! You’d probably pass out after a minute.”

“Would not!” Lloyd snatched the floaty away from him, blowing hard into the mouthpiece, putting even less air into the floaty than Jay had. His face reddened as he huffed desperately, although he still wasn’t making much progress. After a few moments, Jay pulled it away from him.

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want you to actually pass out.”

Lloyd glared at him, panting. “I wasn’t… going to… pass out.”

Jay sighed, grabbing the inflatable and staring at what looked to be the eyes and a very flat, crumpled-looking beak. “At this rate, we’re never going to get Mr. Quackington blown up.”

Lloyd’s nose wrinkled. “Mr. Quackington?”

Jay blinked at him. “Yeah, that’s his name.”

“No, it’s not! His name is Mr. Waddles!”

“Mr. Waddles? What kind of juvenile name is that?”

“Oh, like Mr. Quackington is any better!”

“It is! It’s loads better!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Is so!”

“It’s not!” Lloyd snapped, green energy sparking between his fingers. Jay glanced down at them thoughtfully. “Hey, what if…”

Lloyd was evidently catching on to Jay’s train of thought, his eyes lighting up. “We can use my powers to inflate Mr. Waddles!”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “Quackington.”

Lloyd bared his teeth, the small fangs glinting. “Waddles.”

Jay sighed. “Okay, whatever. We can use your powers to inflate Mr. Waddles.”

Lloyd grinned widely, whether about the promise of getting his inflated duck or having won the name debate with Jay, Pixal couldn’t tell. He held up a hand and formed a basketball-sized sphere of green energy. Jay’s eyes widened, and he held the mouthpiece up to the energy. Lloyd channeled it inside, watching with glee as the duck puffed up, the yellow plastic slowly tinging green, making the duck look like he was about to be sick.

Zane took a step forward, holding his hand out. “Lloyd, wait-”

There was a sharp snapping noise as the floaty popped, and Lloyd and Jay cried out in horror as the yellow pieces of plastic fluttered to the ground. Lloyd fell to his knees, gripping the busted plastic and wailing, and Jay landed next to him, crying, “No! Mr. Waddles, you were so young!”

“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Lloyd sniffed. “He was my best friend in the whole world.”

Kai threw up his hands. “Great. You spend the last several years of your life looking out for him only to get replaced by his inflatable plastic duck.”

“Oookay,” Nya said, walking over to Jay and Lloyd and ushering them towards the picnic blanket. “Someone’s obviously been out in the sun too long. Go sit under the umbrella and let’s have something to eat.”

“Good idea,” Zane agreed. “I’m sure we’re all getting hungry. Jay, could you grab the picnic basket? It’s right behind you.”

The lightning ninja grabbed the basket, peering inside briefly as he carried it towards them. “I hope you brought the Pringles. I could really go for some of those right now- augh!”

Before anyone could stop him, Jay was falling to the ground, the basket flying out of his hands and landing sideways in the sand.

“Jay!” Kai cried. “Look what you’ve done to our picnic!”

“Hey! That was totally your fault! Why did you leave your shoes right in the middle of the sand, perfectly positioned for someone to trip over?”

“Why were you clumsy enough to get in the way of my shoes?”

“Guys, guys, it’s okay,” Zane assured. Walking over, he carefully lifted the basket out of the sand. “I’m sure it’s still salvageable.”

“Yeah, but now all our food is going to taste like sand,” Lloyd moaned.

“Lloyd, the food barely touched the sand,” Nya pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. Every time you go to the beach, if the food gets even remotely close to the sand, it always gets sand in it. Every time. It’s one of the great mysteries of the universe.”

“Well, I think you’ll survive,” she said, passing Lloyd a sandwich and a bag of pretzels. Lloyd took them, but narrowed his eyes.

“Brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘sandwich.’”

“Just eat your food, mister.”

Lloyd shot her a glare, but grudgingly obliged. As Pixal bit into her own sandwich, she realized Lloyd was right, she could feel granules of sand between her teeth as she chewed.

“Hey… at least it adds a little crunch, right?” Cole grinned.

Kai grimaced. “Next time, I elect we don’t let Jay anywhere near the picnic basket.”

Jay chucked a grape at him, but Kai turned at the last second, catching it in his mouth. “Ha!” His gleeful expression faded as he caught sight of something behind Jay. “Um, Lloyd, you have someone you wanna introduce us to?”

The group turned to see a seagull had approached them, tilting its head where it stood only a couple feet away from Lloyd. The green ninja was staring at the bird with wide eyes, an awed expression on his face.

“Lloyd,” Nya sighed, “please don’t tell me you fed it.”

“He’s not an it,” Lloyd snapped. “His name is Scully.”

“Great.” Nya rubbed her hands over her face. “We’re already into name territory.”

“Scully?” Kai’s nose wrinkled. “Isn’t that the name of the seagull from The Little Mermaid?”

“No, that’s Scuttle,” Lloyd sniffed. “They’re completely different.”

“Lloyd,” Pixal scolded, reaching for Lloyd’s wrist just as he tossed another chunk of his sandwich at the seagull, “Feeding wildlife is not a good idea, it can be dangerous-”

Lloyd shrieked suddenly as the bird launched itself at Lloyd’s face. He scrambled to his feet, screaming, and Kai lunged forward, pushing the others out of the way. “Move, move!”

“Get it off me, get it off me!” Lloyd shrieked as the bird’s wings flapped in his face, sending feathers everywhere.

“Blast it with your powers!” Kai called, looking worried but keeping a respectable distance.

“I can’t! He’s on my face!”

“Well, I can’t do it, I’ll set you on fire! Nya, you do it!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” the water ninja spat through gritted teeth, globes of water already forming in her hands. “I just need to get a clear shot! For the love of… Lloyd, stop moving so much!”

Lloyd hardly seemed to hear her. “He’s going to claw my eyes out,” he wailed, batting weakly at the creature.

“Nya!”

Nya quickly thrust her hands forward, sending a large ball of water at Lloyd’s head, drenching him and the seagull. The bird squawked angrily, falling to the ground.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Nya and Kai darted over to him, Nya taking his face in her hands as Kai peered over her shoulder. A small red scratch stretched across his left cheek, but apart from that, he appeared unharmed, just frazzled.

“Dude!” Kai cried. “You just got attacked. By a seagull!”

“It owned you!”

Lloyd shot Jay a glare. “Did not.”

“You should have seen your face!” Jay laughed. “Oh wait, you couldn’t- there was a bird in the way!”

Lloyd crossed his arms. “I’d like to remind you how you reacted that time when my uncle set that berserk chicken on us.”

“The chicken had lightning powers. Hardly comparable to a simple seafowl, bud.”

“Ugh, I hope this doesn’t get infected,” Nya muttered, running her finger along the scratch. “We should probably get you checked for rabies when we get home.”

“Nya, I’m fine,” Lloyd groaned, pushing her off. “A seagull isn’t going to give me rabies.”

Nya shrugged. “With your luck, I can never be sure.”

“This is why you don’t give food to wild animals, Lloyd, it makes them bolder-”

“Watch out, Lloyd!” Jay shrieked suddenly, and they whipped around to see the seagull had caught its second wind, squawking as it charged at Lloyd.

Lloyd shrieked, taking off down the beach with the seagull in pursuit. Nya sighed, putting a hand on her head. Kai grinned, walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Do you think he’ll learn his lesson?”

“No,” Nya said without hesitation. “Absolutely not. That’s the sad part.”

“Hey,” Cole said, pointing a finger down the beach. “The volleyball court’s just opened up. You guys wanna play?”

“Sure. Tell Lloyd he can join us when he gets that seagull taken care of.”

Nya glanced towards the green ninja, who was currently lobbing balls of energy at the bird and missing by an embarrassingly wide berth. “Looks like it could be a while.”

---

“Great job, team!” Nya cheered, high-fiving Pixal and shooting a grin at Cole. “Although, if I’m being honest, the rest of you didn’t put up much of a competition.”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Kai snapped. “I was carrying the team! Jay, Lloyd, were you planning on helping me anytime soon?”

“I was trying!” Jay insisted. “But you kept getting in my way!”

“Because every time I let you get the ball, you dropped it!”

“Hey! I never said I was good at volleyball, okay? Why are you attacking me, Lloyd sucked too!”

“It’s not like I ever had time to fit in volleyball practice between all my green ninja training! It wasn’t exactly a top priority!” “Are you telling me you’ve never played before?” Kai spluttered.

“I’ve played!” Lloyd insisted. “Uh… once or twice.”

Kai facepalmed. “Why did I let you come on my team?”

Lloyd grinned widely. “‘Cause you love me.”

Cole elbowed him. “It’s because he lost the coin toss and Nya got to pick first.”

“Hey!” Jay yelped. “Are you telling me you would have picked me last?”

“After I saw you play, yeah,” Cole snorted.

“I’m still not convinced on some of those calls, Zane,” Kai said, walking over to the nindriod. “I don’t think that one play near the third point was a foul.”

“Hey, the ref’s call is law,” Nya smirked. “Stop trying to cheat your way to victory, Kai.”

“I’m not cheating! Zane’s girlfriend is on your team! He’s obviously biased!”

“I’m a nindriod, Kai. I cannot be biased.”

“Stop being a sore loser, Kai.” Behind her, a wave swelled up. She raised her hand- then pointed it forward at Kai.

Her brother shrieked as the seawater drenched him.

“Nya! What’d you do that for?”

“You deserved it, with all the whining you were doing. Besides, you looked hot. I was just doing you a favor.”

“It’s alright,” Lloyd laughed. “You can share my towel, don’t worry.” As he handed Kai the towel, the fire ninja eyed it shrewdly.

“It’s got ducks on it. Of course it does.”

“Hey, you want the towel or not?”

“No, I’m taking the towel.” Kai wrapped the towel around himself, shivering, unfurling the ducks for all to see. Cole snickered, and Kai shot him a glare.

“Should we pack up, then?”

Zane nodded. “If we want to be back in time for dinner, probably.”

The team trudged back to their blanket, wet and sandy, but chatting amiably. They had nearly packed up all their things when Lloyd cried out suddenly.

“Where’s my wallet?”

Zane frowned. “Didn’t you put it in the valuables pouch?”

“I thought I did, but…” he paused. “Oh, wait. I tripped over Jay. I must’ve forgotten to put it in after that.”

“Well, then, it’s gotta be around here somewhere. What color is it, Lloyd?”

“What do you think? Green.”

They spent a good ten minutes searching through their entire bag and the surrounding sand, to no avail. It quickly became clear that if Lloyd’s wallet had ever fallen around here in the first place, it wasn’t here now.

Kai shrugged. “Oh well. It’s not that big of a deal. You don’t have any cards, and I don’t think you were carrying any of the cash. We can get you a new one.”

“No, but I had the things in there!”

Cole frowned. “The things?”

“You know.” Lloyd lowered his voice. “The things. That the mayor gave us?”

“What?!” Jay yelped. “Those were in there?” “You lost them?” Kai cried. “Lloyd, how could you?”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Kai groaned, rubbing his face. “We should’ve never trusted you with them. Or at least split them up, so they weren’t all together.”

“I still do not understand.” Pixal frowned. “What are these things that are so important?”

“They’re a top-secret gift from the mayor,” Jay whispered. “We’re not supposed to tell anyone we have them. Not that telling anyone now would matter anyway, because we don’t have them anymore.”

“It’s not my fault!” Lloyd insisted. “It’s that stupid seagull’s, he’s the one who distracted me-” Lloyd paused, his eyes widening. “That’s it! The seagull must’ve swiped my wallet when it was chasing me!”

“Looks like we have a lead,” Kai growled.

“Wait a minute, does anyone else hear that mysterious music-”

“Oh no,” Pixal muttered, putting a hand on her forehead. “Zane, please don’t tell me you’re going to do this again.”

“It seemed that, after only a few weeks, it was time for me to crack yet another case.” The odd, deep voice rang out, and they turned to see Zane slipping on a fedora.

“Where did that even come from,” Pixal despaired. “I’m positive you didn’t bring that with you. Positive.”

“Again, I was to be accompanied by my trusty assistant, but this time, my highly trained ninja associates would also be coming along, all determined to reclaim what someone had stolen in the heist.”

Jay glanced between Pixal and Zane. “What is happening right now? Am I supposed to know what’s happening?”

Pixal shook her head. “It’s a long story. Just go with it.”

Zane tipped his hat down. “Already, we were off with a very promising lead. I suspected the culprit to be the feathered fiend that had been spotted lurking around at the scene of the crime only an hour prior.”

Kai snorted, placing a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Oh, this is gold! Did you mess with his voice again, Jay?”

“No, I didn’t touch him! Pixal, you didn’t…”

She shook her head. “Believe me, I wouldn’t do this if you paid me. It was all him.”

Jay grinned. “What do we do next… detective Zane?” He and Kai simultaneously burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support.

Zane side-eyed them. “The primary suspect was as clear as a black bear in a snowstorm, yet the whereabouts of the creature were still unknown. It had vanished into thin air, without leaving so much as a trace in its stead.”

“Hey,” Lloyd said suddenly, leaning down to pick something up off of the sand, “What about this?”

“It appeared to be part of the plumage of a species of avian native to these shores. Could it belong to the specimen we were looking for?”

Kai plucked the feather from Lloyd’s fingers, examining it. “The feather was white with a dark tip, definitely having originated from a seagull- although the spiked, disturbed edges implied that this was from no ordinary gull- it was from one who had recently been in a fight.”

Jay grinned. “It seemed like we had hit the jackpot. Already, we were one step closer to tracking down this culprit.”

Pixal groaned. “Don’t you two start, too. It was bad enough with just Zane.”

Nya grimaced. “Yeah, this is already getting annoying.”

“How is a feather going to tell us where the seagull is now?” Cole asked.

“I could sense the wind was blowing in from the northwest,” Zane narrated. “If we wanted to find the culprit of the caper, we would have to walk upwind, hopefully leading us to the source of the feather.”

“Alright,” Pixal sighed, “let’s get this over with.”

“And so,” Zane grinned, “The Great Gull Caper began.”

The team trudged up the beach for about twenty minutes, to no avail. They passed many other beachgoers, pointing and staring as the ninja passed, but no seagulls were in sight.

“Are you sure about this, Zane?” Pixal asked.

“The feathered suspect had gained an hour’s head start in its escape from the scene, meaning we would have to hasten our pace if we ever hoped to catch up.”

“Oh, I am not walking an hour just to find this thing. Are we sure it’s that important?”

“Yes!” the guys yelped in unison.

“It’s a very important gift from the mayor! It would be rude to lose it,” Jay said. “We have to get it back!”

“Couldn’t you just ask for another… whatever they are?”

“No! They’re one of a kind!” “Well, can we at least hurry this up? Frankly, I’m getting quite tired of Zane’s shenanigans.”

Zane grinned at her. “Although she voiced her disapproval, my assistant knew the efficiency of my methods, as they had gotten us out of a pinch the last time things had been amok.”

“First of all, I was the one who successfully found Dyer last time. You just ended up getting caught.”

“Perhaps, but you used my techniques.”

Pixal huffed. “Second, I don’t appreciate that you keep calling me your assistant. If anything, we’re partners!”

Zane adjusted his fedora. “So it was a promotion she was after, eh? Well, if my assistant could prove her worth by properly complying with my techniques in this case, she may find herself with a loftier position in the future.”

Pixal sighed. “Whatever. Let’s just find the stupid bird, and go.”

The group trekked after Zane again, and Pixal wondered how long they would be here, when Zane suddenly stopped, causing half of the gang to crash into him.

“What?” Jay yelped. “What’s wrong? Why’d we stop?”

Zane pointed near his feet. “It seemed like the culprit had been careless enough to leave behind tracks in the sand.”

Pixal peered over his shoulder. Sure enough, the tracks of some avian species left a trail in the sand- and after consulting her database, it appeared to match the foot of a seagull.

“We’re getting closer!” Cole said. “It has to be around here somewhere.”

Nya’s eyes went wide, and she pointed towards something in the distance. “Look!”

Down the beach, a large group of seagulls was flocking around a half-eaten pretzel, flapping their wings and squawking as they tried to push past each other.

“It could be any of them,” Lloyd despaired. “How are we going to know which one was the one who stole my wallet?”

Jay smirked. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Lloyd eyed him nervously. “How?”

“One seagull, in particular, has come to associate you with food. One seagull has been known to chase you down.”

“Oh,” Lloyd paled, taking a step back and waving his hands. “Oh, no, I do not like where this is heading…”

“Come on, Lloyd, do it for the team,” Cole pleaded.

“You are the one who lost them in the first place,” Kai agreed. “It’s only fair.”

Lloyd groaned. “Why do I let you bully me into these things?”

“Go on,” Nya gave him a gentle shove. “We don’t have all day!”

Sticking his tongue out at her, Lloyd stepped forward, towards the seagulls. Several of them looked his way, a few flapping their wings anxiously and squawking in warning. Lloyd stopped, swallowing.

“Um. Hey. I don’t suppose any of you have seen a green wallet around here?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “They can’t understand you. Get closer!”

“Okay! I’m going, jeez-” he broke off with a yelp as a seagull darted in front of him, nearly tripping him as he stepped on its tail.

The seagull shrieked, and, in a flurry of feathers, the flock broke into a frenzied panic. Lloyd’s eyes widened, and he cried out, running away and frantically ducking swooping seagulls.

He darted behind Kai as a last nervy seagull hopped after him. Kai held up a fist, which burst into flame, scaring the bird off. Kai glanced back at Lloyd, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. “You okay, bud?”

Lloyd glared. “Don’t look at me like that. These birds are vicious!”

“Look!” Pixal pointed at a gull that had remained behind. With the others out of the way, she could see the small, green wallet between its beak.

“That’s the one!” Cole cried. “After it!”

For ninja, the group was embarrassingly unstealthy as they clamored after the bird, shooting elemental powers at it and screaming as they narrowly avoided each other’s blasts, so that by the time the seagull reached the water, the beach was a mess of crystalized sand, crevices in the ground, and various burn marks from fire, lightning, and energy.

“It’s a seagull!” Nya cried. “We’ve faced giant snakes, lords of darkness, elemental masters, Oni, more criminals and gangsters than I can count, and an evil video game AI, yet we can’t catch one measly seagull? It shouldn’t be this hard, you guys!”

“It’s getting away,” Jay cried, pointing at the bird, who had finally taken flight and was heading out over the ocean.

“No!” Lloyd moaned. “Now we’re never going to get it back!”

“Not on my watch,” Nya growled, racing past them towards the docks. “Come on!” “Oh no,” Kai groaned. “Nya Smith, whatever you are thinking, stop it right now, because I’m not doing it.” “Come on, Kai,” Lloyd insisted, grabbing his wrist and yanking him along. “We have to hurry!”

They raced after Nya, who was running down the dock towards a man who was examining the boats. Kai followed them more slowly, taking careful steps.

“Sir, we need to use a boat, right away! We’ll pay for it, we promise!”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, but these are all private boats. The only one we have is that one,” he pointed to a small, worn-looking fishing boat, “and the motor’s broken, so it’s of no use to anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter, I can take care of that. Everyone, get in!”

“W-wait,” the man stuttered, looking flustered.

“We’ll bring it right back, I promise! Now, come on, we don’t have much time!”

“No!” Kai insisted, as everyone else piled in. “Nuh-uh. No way. Not in a million years. You are not bringing me out into the middle of the ocean in a tiny, crowded boat with a busted engine!”

“You don’t need an engine when you’ve got me!” Nya raised her hand, and the water swirled under the boat, rocking it slightly. “Now, come on, we don’t have time for this!” “Y’know what.” Kai took a couple of steps back from the boat. “I’m good. I’ll stay here. You guys have fun finding the wallet. I’ll cheer you on from the beach. The dry, dry beach.”

“Nope.” Cole reached forward, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him in. “This is your gift we’re saving, too. If you want to get part of it, you’re coming with.”

“Finally!” Nya huffed. The water rippled beneath them, and suddenly, it was propelling their boat, and they were off.

“Where’s the bird?” Nya asked. “Does anyone see it?” “Over there!” Cole pointed slightly towards their left, where the seagull was gliding away with surprising speed. Getting into the boat had slowed them down, and it had gotten a large head start.

Nya gritted her teeth. “Hold on.”

“Don’t go faster!” Kai yelped from where he huddled near the middle of the boat, protectively sandwiched between Lloyd and Cole. “If you tip this boat, I will never forgive you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Nya growled, although the boat slowed slightly as they continued.

“Our team continued to chase the thief, determined to put an end to the Great Gull Caper and put the culprit to justice. Even when our path took us across the raging waters of the ocean, with nothing but a rusty, broken old boat, and deep, swirling waters around us, filled with the dark abyss and the creatures that lurked there…”

“You mean like sharks?” Lloyd perked, peering over the edge. “Did you see any? I wanna see one!”

“Nope,” Kai yelped, pulling himself into a ball as he sat down on the floor of the boat. “Nopety nope nope nope. I’m done. I’m outta here.”

“The prospect of sharks was a dire one, but one we were willing to take. We would get that wallet back, no matter the cost- even if it meant competition from this fierce predator of the sea.”

Kai screamed into his hands. “Just end me now!”

“What Zane means to say,” Pixal said, elbowing Zane sharply, “is that sharks are actually very off-put by the taste of human flesh, and do not go after humans on purpose.”

Kai stared at her. “Oh joy, now a shark can devour my flesh by accident, what a relief.”

“Do not worry, Kai,” she told him. “There is only one estimated death by shark per year in the greater Ninjago City area.”

“Knowing my luck,” Kai grumbled, “I’ll be that one.”

“Did anyone bring their phone with?” Lloyd asked. “I wanna get a good picture when the sharks come for Kai.”

“I call dibs on his katana,” Jay exclaimed. “Y’know, the super flashy one with the flaming dragon carved into the handle?”

Lloyd wrinkled his nose at him. “Why would you want a fire dragon on your katana? You’re the lightning ninja!”

“Hey, just because my element is lightning, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a super dope fire design when I see one-”

“Guys,” Cole sighed, pushing his way between the two arguing boys. “No one is getting eaten. We’re perfectly safe here, on this boat.”

“Cole’s right,” Pixal agreed. “The sharks around this area are smaller, reef dwellers, and won’t come after us. They may, however, come after our seagull friend if he gets too close to the water.”

Kai made a noise in the back of his throat, and Cole scowled at her. “Thanks for the help, Pix.”

“Nya,” Jay whined, “the seagull’s getting further away! We have to go faster!”

“Don’t!” Pixal cried. “This boat has not been manufactured to withstand a lot of weight. With seven people, especially when two of them are titanium, going too fast would be sure to capsize us.”

“I told you I should’ve stayed behind on the shore,” Kai wailed.

Lloyd leaned further over the edge, raising a hand to his forehead to keep the glare off of his face as he peered intently into the water. “Is… is that a shark?”

Kai stared at him. “Shut up. You’re just baiting.”

Lloyd shook his head, his eyes lighting up in a way that was not reassuring in the slightest. “I’m not! It’s a shark! It’s a real, live shark! I’ve never seen one this close before! Except at like, an aquarium!”

Kai closed his eyes, rocking himself gently. “You’re lying. You stupid liar, I hate you.”

Cole peered over, following Lloyd’s gaze, and promptly bit his lip. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“This is a dumb prank, you guys!” Kai was half-yelling by this point.

“Stop being so loud,” Lloyd hissed. “You’ll scare it!”

Kai blinked at him. “I’ll scare it?”

Lloyd crossed his arms. “A scared shark is an aggressive shark.”

Kai’s mouth snapped shut.

“I can’t believe this,” Cole muttered. “Did we really not bring any weapons?”

“No!” Lloyd yelped. “Cole, you wouldn’t!”

“I would if it kept us from being eaten.”

“For the last time, sharks don’t eat humans!”

Cole ignored him. “Well? Did we?”

Nya snorted. “Why would we bring weapons to the beach?”

“Hey, with how often this city gets attacked, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Nya rolled her eyes. “It was supposed to be our day off.”

“It’s fine,” Pixal reported, keeping a careful eye on the shark. “It’s swimming away now. As long as we leave it alone, we’re safe.”

Kai frowned. “Looks like the gull isn’t so convinced, though.”

Pixal glanced up. Sure enough, the seagull was eyeing the shark nervously, pumping its wings as it flew higher and higher above the surface of the water.

“Do something!” Jay shrieked. “If we don’t stop it now, it’s going to get away for good!”

“Lloyd!” Nya cried. “Is your wallet waterproof?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question!” “Yes! Yes, it is!”

Nya gritted her teeth. “Hold on, everyone!”

Suddenly, a vast wave rose out of the water, looming over the seagull.

Kai’s eyes widened. “Nya, be careful, you’ll hit us too-”

But it was already too late, the wave crashing down, downing the seagull, and soaking them in saltwater. The team cried out, and Kai screamed, throwing his arms over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. As they all tried to lurch away from the spray, the boat rocked precariously, and, for a horrifying moment, they were suspended there, on the point between balance and capsize.

And then that moment was over, and they were all falling into the ocean.

Pixal’s world immediately dimmed as she plunged into the water, quietness enveloping her like a blanket. For a moment, she was too shocked to do anything, until a foot thrashed past her face, snapping her out of her trance as she swam towards the surface.

A couple of feet before she reached it, a metal hand snatched her wrist and pulled her the rest of the way up.

“Pixal!” Zane cried, his detective voice dropped. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What about everyone else? Are we all here?”

Zane nodded his head behind her, and she turned to see the others all within a couple of feet. Cole had his hands on the now upside-down boat, trying to use his strength to push it over, but it was hard for him to get a good grip and stay afloat at the same time. Just behind him, Jay was spitting out a mouthful of seawater, sending ripples across the surface of the ocean as he treaded water. Lloyd was doing the same a couple of feet away, only the green ninja was struggling a lot more because of the arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Don’t let me go, Lloyd!” Kai yelped, although the feat would’ve been impossible even if Lloyd had wanted to- the fire ninja was clinging to him like a barnacle. “I can’t swim!”

Lloyd sighed. “I know that, Kai. It’s the only reason I’m letting you hold on to me like this.”

“I can’t believe this happened,” Kai cried. “We’re going to die out here. This is the worst day off ever.”

“Hey!” Lloyd snapped. “It’s not my fault this happened!”

Nya shot them all a sharp glare from where she was drifting alongside the boat. She didn’t even bother to tread water like the rest of them, instead using her powers to keep herself afloat. “It was going to work until you guys made such a big fuss about getting a little wet and tipped the boat.”

Cole sighed. “We’re not going to die. As soon as I get this right side up again, we’ll climb up and get out of here. Can you give me a hand, Zane?”

As the nindriod moved to help him, Kai suddenly went rigid.

“Lloyd,” he whispered.

“What, Kai?”

“Something just bumped my foot.”

“It’s probably just seaweed, Kai,” Lloyd sighed, looking down- and promptly froze.

“No one. Move.”

Jay squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh no, oh gosh, don’t tell me that’s what I think it is, this is not happening-”

“Jay, shut up,” Nya whispered, her face pale as she watched the dark shape lurking below them in the water.

“Everyone, stay calm,” Pixal murmured. “Don’t make any sudden movements and try to look it in the eyes.”

“Please, the last thing I’m gonna do is look at it,” Kai breathed, burying his face in Lloyd’s hair.

After a moment, the shark slowly swam past, losing interest.

“It doesn’t care about us,” Zane realized. “It wants the seagull.”

Several yards away, the gull was floating on the water, still trying to shake off the moisture from Nya’s wave. Suddenly realizing the danger it was in, the bird raised its wings- and launched itself into the air, just as fierce jaws snapped against empty air where the seagull had been less than a second ago.

Kai’s fingers dug tighter into Lloyd’s shoulders, and Pixal caught Jay biting his lip as he swallowed back a scream, but, its prey lost, the shark was already swimming away.

“Gotcha,” Nya murmured, reaching a hand out and snatching up the wallet, which the seagull had dropped in all the commotion, before it could sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Okay. That’s great. We got it. Now can we get out of here?” Kai pleaded.

After a minute, they finally got the boat flipped over, and Cole hauled himself aboard before helping to lift the others. Ten minutes later, they were all safely out of the water and on their way back to the dock, and Pixal had never felt more relieved by the fact.

“So,” Jay asked, as the boat glided through the water, leaning closer to Nya. “Did they survive all that?”

“Let’s see,” Nya murmured, opening up Lloyd’s wallet. Pixal leaned forward, anxious to see what all the fuss had been about.

“Yes!” Jay cried, pulling out seven slips of paper. “They’re all here!”

“Wait.” Pixal snatched one from his hand, quickly scanning it. “A summer pass for free all-you-can-eat ice cream from the Dairy Dragon?”

“Yup,” Jay smiled, passing them out to the others. “The mayor gave them to us as a gift after we saved the city from Prime Empire. That’s what we were going to do today, after the beach, actually.”

“You’re telling me,” Pixal deadpanned. “That we just risked our lives. For free ice cream.”

“Free ice cream is free ice cream, Pix.”

“You’ll understand once you’ve tried their butter pecan,” Nya told her. “It’s to die for.”

“Butter pecan?” Jay spluttered. “No way, the Ninjapolitan is best.”

“You heathen, chocolate fudge is obviously the best flavor-”

“What are you guys talking about, mint chocolate chip is superior!”

“You just like it because it’s green.”

“Do not!”

“Do so!” Nya sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Here we go again.”

“Calm down, all of you,” Pixal said. “You can get whatever flavor of ice cream you want. Just do me a favor and try not to end up capsizing us in the middle of the ocean this time.”

Jay hummed. “No promises.”

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago kai #ninjago pixal #ninjago nya #ninjago zane #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #i cant believe i actually wrote something that is 100% fluff #that's never happened before #it feels... weird #but it was a lot of fun #and yes Lloyd loves sharks and I will die on that hill #thanks for reading!#reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

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volturiwolf · 3 years

Text

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 3)

No of Words: about 5313

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1 part 2

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"The Volturi Princess " Tag List (reply if you want to be tagged or removed):

@felixvolturisprincess @singerj2002 @mrtony-stank1 @ikissedthescarsonherskin @alecvolturiswifeforever @hshehdyhd

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Felix’s POV:

We have been traveling for over a year now, Demetri tracking Carlisle and us following behind him. Demetri located him across the Atlantic, so we swam across the ocean to reach him. Almost a year and a half after leaving Volterra, we tracked Carlisle while he was working as a doctor somewhere in the northern United States. He was surprised to see us, but we kept our austere facade to maintain our sovereignty towards him. He welcomed us gladly in his small house.

It was a two-story building, and it smelled of old wood and mold, but I guess that was the best he could do for now. The living conditions around here did not seem to be ideal. Apart from the Volturi and the Egyptian coven, no other vampire lived comfortably, in castles, mansions, or even big houses; most vampires were nomads, traveling around and living by hunting whenever they could. So, Carlisle actually living in a house, even if it looked like this, was way better than living the nomad life.

“Jane, Alec, Demetri, Felix. To what do I owe this pleasure? Can I offer you anything?” Carlisle had always been one of the kindest of our kind, too compassionate for a vampire.

“No, Carlisle, thank you, we’re good. We are on a mission, and we have a few questions for you.” Jane took it up to herself to start the conversation.

“Please, sit down so we can talk.” Carlisle offered us to sit around the table that was in the middle of the ground floor. We each took a seat at the table. “So, may I ask what it is all about? I don’t think I have personally acted in a way to upset the Volturi.”

“No, indirectly, you haven’t.” Jane continued. “We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding (Y/N). We think that you may have heard by now that she has left Volterra.”

“Yes, word came around. I met a few nomads from Europe some time ago, and they told me that (Y/N) left Volterra, probably permanently.”

I tried to suppress a sob that was fighting to leave my throat. Carlisle knew that (Y/N) left, everyone knew that (Y/N) left. They didn’t know she left her mate behind, and they shall never find out that she was my mate. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of (Y/N) being in danger if anyone found out that we were mates. I had too many targets on my back to risk anything happening to her.

It was my turn to intervene. “Have you seen her? Has she ever come around here?”

Carlisle turned to face me. “I did. Once. She stayed with me for about a year; that was about 6 or 7 years ago. She tracked me through her memories. She has become quite skilled at that.” Demetri and I looked at each other confused. (Y/N) could track as skillfully as Demetri now?

Carlisle continued. “Anyway, she seemed concerned. She told me she had been traveling for quite some time, but she felt like she was missing a piece of herself, of her past. For a few months, she wanted to learn more about me, my job, how I was doing with the whole “animal blood” diet, simple curiosity really. She had been training herself to abstain from human blood, so it was easier for her to go hunt with me. She told me..”

Carlisle turned to look at me now. “She told me about your bond, Felix.” So, she has felt our bond, too! “She told me that she was scared for you, for your safety within the Volturi. She was worried about all of you, but particularly you, Felix. Being her mate means you are basically a target for anyone who wishes to harm (Y/N). She told me she ran away to protect you. As long as no one knew of your bond, you were safe. The traveling and meeting the world was just an extra benefit for her and her gift.”

“Her gift?!” We all exclaimed in unison. (Y/N) never claimed a “gift”, so how could this be possible? Did she lie? Did she even know about her gift?

“Before you say anything, she didn’t even know what her gift was. It is way more complicated than you think. I guess she’d appreciate it if I gave you an idea about it.” Carlisle paused for a few moments. If my heart was beating, I swear it would have stopped by now.

“You know how, for example, Jane, you can induce mental pain, or you, Alec, can restrict anyone’s senses?” The Twins nodded at Carlisle. “Well, (Y/N) can do both, and so much more.” We were kind of shocked. No one has ever had a gift similar to the Twins; that’s why they were in the Volturi. Because they were unique.

“(Y/N)’s gift is copying others’ gifts. That’s why she could also track me; she had copied Demetri’s gift.” Carlisle pointed at Demetri, who looked utterly shocked now.

I would lie if I said I didn’t feel the same way or scared even. I was not scared because of (Y/N); I was scared for (Y/N). This newly-found discovery meant she would be way more important to Aro than we ever thought. He wouldn’t just let her go - not that this was his intention before, but now, she would be even more precious to him and his cause; she would now be the perfect weapon for him to use against other vampires. I had to find her and warn her.

“Do you know where she is now?” My voice came out more stern than I intended it to be.

Carlisle nodded his head slightly. “I may know where she is now. Before she left, she was trying to find out as much as she could about her parents. I assume that was the “missing piece” she was referring to? Anyway, she may be after her parents. I mean they do know her nature better than any of us does. Don’t forget that (Y/N) is half-witch. No one could ever teach her how to be one; only her father could be the one to do so. So, if I stand corrected, she is looking for them. And there’s only one place that (Y/N) has ever linked to her parents.”

“Greece.” Demetri stepped in. Demetri was the only one who could understand (Y/N)’s connection with Greece; it was their birthplace, their origin, their true home.

“Exactly. If you find her parents, you’ll most likely find her. Even if she’s not with them, it will be easier to track her if you have her parents’ assistance.”

We nodded and we stood up. “Thank you for your help, Carlisle. You were most helpful.” Jane spoke for all of us.

“It was my pleasure.” Carlisle led us to the door, but before we left, Jane turned to him one last time. “We think we can trust you that this conversation stays between us.”

“Of course, Jane. Have a safe trip and take care of yourselves.”

“You too.” Alec smiled at Carlisle.

What Carlisle said at the end had me worried for (Y/N). “I hope you find her soon. Her parents never had the best reputation around.” What kind of people was (Y/N)’s family anyway?

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Tracking (Y/N) proved to be way more complicated and debilitating than we thought it would be. We assumed that the closer we were to Greece, the easier it would be for Demetri to pick up her tenor. We were wrong; we were going around blindly, not a clue about (Y/N)’s whereabouts. Even when we finally set our feet on Greek ground, we still didn’t know where to start looking for her. Nobody had a clue where she could be; we didn’t even know her birthplace.

Demetri took it upon him to start his research in a place he knew well enough: Athens. Athens was the capital of Greece’s civilization for many centuries, but, at the time of Demetri’s birth, during the Byzantine times, Constantinople emerged as the center of the Eastern Byzantine Empire, while Rome remained the center of the Western Byzantine Empire.

Athens was not regarded as highly as it used to, during Pericles’ “Golden Century”, as the 5th century BC was known. It still was an important and historical city, but it has lost its title as the “capital” eons ago. The city was taken advantage of by both “allies” and Ottomans and seemed to have lost part of its previous glory. Still, it was beautiful; I may have been quite “old” myself, but I could still admire the history around me.

It reminded of (Y/N)’s stories and books; knowing Ancient Greek history was one of the first things she took an interest in. The fact that she was able to travel to Athens, with or without Aro, quite a few times also developed her fascination regarding the Ancient Greek arts, philosophy, and overall way of living. Of course, it wasn’t easy being a woman then, or ever really, but she was more financially privileged than the average Athenian - vampire wealth had always been an actual thing, and Aro always prided himself to be a “collector” of wealth (and talented vampires for the matter).

We arrived in Greece at a transitional stage; the country has been experiencing a war against the Ottomans for a few years now, and it was evident around the city of Athens. There were many casualties during the war, many damages around the streets, the houses, and there seemed to be a climate of misery and decline.

Yet, the country had recently elected a prime minister, who declared Nafplio, a city in Peloponnese, as Greece’s capital. That was our next stop, as we couldn’t find anything in particular that could indicate (Y/N) being in Athens. Apart from the poor living conditions, the country was experiencing a plague pandemic wave, which killed even more people, but authorities worked hard on containing the cases, and it seemed to have been working.

Still, without a single clue about (Y/N)’s location, the only thing we could do is go around searching for any possible information. We could only travel at night, and hide during the day; Greece, just like Italy, had always been blessed with sunny days, for the majority of a calendar year.

It wasn’t ideal with us being vampires, but Volterra was an ideal strategic location for the Volturi to travel across the vampire and human world, rule, and impose their laws whenever it was needed. Just like always, we now also had to be secretive about our existence.

I thought about how lucky (Y/N) was in that situation; being a non-fully vampire, she didn’t “glow” in the sun like us. She had a more healthy-skin-like glow, a healthy and subtle glow that made me even more attracted to her - if that was even possible. That basically meant that she could technically go anywhere and everywhere; the weather did not affect her, the sun did not affect her.

I started getting frustrated and disappointed. It wasn’t only (Y/N) I had in my mind; apparently, during the years of the Greek Revolution, many vampires, Greek or non-Greek, started secretly fighting to claim territories for themselves.

We knew that it wasn’t part of our duty, but it wouldn’t hurt if we could actually claim Greek land for the Volturi. Having both Italy and Greece under our control could mean more power, more resources, more blood. It only seemed natural; the three Volturi kings were born in Greece, all three of their wives were born in Greece, Demetri and Chelsea were born in Greece. (Y/N) was born in Greece.

Greece could easily become an extension of our territory - Italy was already ours in its entirety - and it would only be the start. It would be easier to control and deal with any possible riots from other covens - the Egyptians and the Romanians in particular. We didn’t fear either of them, but the Romanians have been holding resentment towards the Volturi for a couple thousand years, so anything could be expected from their side at any moment.

I shared my thoughts with the Twins and Demetri. They all agreed that it was a plausible plan; it would show others that the Volturi are still as powerful as they have ever been, and should be feared. Besides, we knew that just the four of us would be able to subjugate any vampire that crossed our paths. With the Twins’ powers, Demetri’s tracking skills, and my strength, it would be impossible for others to resist or challenge us.

We started interrogating any vampire we found wandering or hunting at night; none of them worthy enough to fight us or even gifted enough to join the Volturi. It was quite easy to find the leaders of these “newly-made” covens, or alliances, as they seemed. Because none of them inspired loyalty to each other; none of them was a coven in the sense the Volturi were. They were more like vampires who came together to fight for territory control; I doubt if they would even manage to stay together for one more day. They did not only lack loyalty towards their "leaders", but also discipline, principles, and basic rules of survival and solidarity towards the other members.

It was quite easy to take over any “coven” in Southern Greece, including the island of Crete. We started moving north, taking over the territories of Thessaly and Epirus, something which the Greek humans did not manage to acquire from the Ottomans yet. We were to take over Macedonia and Thrace next, but we were met with an unexpected obstacle.

Every vampire we would interrogate regarding these two territories would say the same thing: none of them knew who owned them, but whoever tried to claim the territories never returned back, dead or alive. The mystery that surrounded the person or people behind the leadership of these areas made their skin crawl; they all refused to “help” us any further, no matter how much Jane, Alec, and I tried, which made me kind of worried, or more like curious, but I didn’t want to show any weakness or let them question my effectiveness.

Every one of them was just a “normal” vampire; we were better, stronger, gifted, and we have proved that we can bring results every single time. No other vampire has ever dared go against us; we wouldn’t allow them to question us now either.

We continued traveling up north, determined to face whoever it was behind the territories there. I didn’t pay attention to the slight pain in my guts as we were traveling through the country, but it was becoming more and more intense as we continued going north.

We didn’t know how we would find the vampires behind this “operation”, so our plan would be to act in any way possible to provoke them into coming out of their “hiding spot”. For a few days, we were rummaging any small village we could find, killing the villagers and draining them of their blood - not a very “Volturi tactic" may I say. We were supposed to hide our existence, not challenge our luck by killing so many people; yet, this was the only way we thought that could possibly lurk the vampires out of their “comfort zone”.

As we were traveling through Macedonia, we came across a rather developed town, compared to the villages we have seen before. The city was surrounded by tall stone walls. There were a few rivers on its western side, forests and mountains on its northeastern side, and swamps and marshes on its southern side. We couldn’t hunt freely here, at least not during daylight; there was no way we would go unnoticed if we started hunting anywhere in the area. We decided to run through the forests, see if there was a place we could stay for a while; if there was a human or more we could feed off of; if there was a sign of the vampires or (Y/N).

During the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking that our mission has been more about expanding our power and influence, and not as much about locating (Y/N). Actually, it felt more like locating (Y/N) was more of an afterthought now. We lost the purpose of our mission; the reason we came together all along.

It wasn’t as if we would actually be directly benefiting by the territories we claimed; we were still working on behalf of the Volturi. We didn’t ask the kings to claim Greek territories; yet, we did, because we felt obliged to consider their own good once again, this time at the expense of finding (Y/N). Once again, we became the victims of the influence they had on us, and we played their game.

“Why are we even doing this?” I yelled frustratedly. My friends turned to look at me.

“What do you mean, Felix?” Jane seemed slightly annoyed. “We’ve come here to claim the territories, to show these savages who the boss is here.”

“No, Jane, they are not savages, we didn’t come here to claim territories, and we don’t have to show them “who is the boss”. They already know that the Volturi rule the vampire world. No. No. We came here to search for (Y/N). Not to “claim territories”. Not to “show them”. We came here for (Y/N). We..We lost our purpose. We lost the true meaning of our mission. We just started claiming the land for the Volturi, for Aro. We..We forgot about her.”

My eyes were stinking with venom. I felt weak, I felt as if I betrayed her. I promised to myself that I would bring her back home, that I would protect her. It’s been so long and we still haven’t found her. We just kept wasting time on things that shouldn’t matter to us. We should not care about expanding our influence, our territory, our power. We should care about bringing the Princess back.

Jane lowered her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t know you felt this way. I have to admit it though; we did lose track of time and we forgot about the actual purpose of this mission. We once again forgot that (Y/N) has always been way more important than any power in the world. I’m sorry. We all are. I promised you we’ll start searching for her right away, okay?”

I nodded affirmatively. We had to find (Y/N) as soon as possible. We were not only running out of time but also out of hope that (Y/N) was in Greece or anywhere else, that she was alive. We got so distracted by our conversation that we didn’t notice we were being watched until we all started screaming in pain. I fell on my knees, the pain on the back of my head unbearable, and that’s when I blacked out.

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I didn’t know how much time passed being unconscious. It felt like a new sensation to me; being a bit over 2000 years old, I haven’t lost my senses once - except for the times Alec liked to play games on me. I didn’t feel like myself; it didn’t feel right. I didn’t like being restricted of my senses, especially now, especially here, in an unknown place. My mind was blurry and I couldn’t see anything distinct around me; I couldn’t see almost anything. I tried to move my hands around but I couldn’t as if the tightest rope in the world was holding me in place.

“No need to fight, sweetheart.” I heard a woman’s voice. “There is no way to escape.”

“Who are you? Why am I here? Where are the others?”

“Felix? Is that you?” I heard Demetri’s voice on my right.

“Demetri? Is that you? Where are Jane and Alec?”

“I am here.” I heard Alec’s voice on my left.

“Me too." Jane replied.

“Alexandre, please, I cannot start with this again.”

Suddenly, I could see again. I was still physically restricted, but my eyes could see them crystal clear and my mind was in order once again. The woman in front of me was very imposing, though of average size. Her long, curly hair framed her face beautifully and her piercing red eyes were piercing through my soul. The man standing next to her was only a few centimeters taller; he had short, straight hair, and his eyes were looking between the four of us sternly. Who were they even? Why were we even here? Why us? As if she read my mind, a woman spoke to me.

“Oh, deary. We’re not going to tell you who we are. But you are going to tell us what you, Volturi guards, are doing in our territory!”

“How do you know who we are?” I exclaimed. Of course, everyone knew the Volturi as the authority of the vampire world, but not all vampires around here have ever met us specifically, or any other member of the coven for the matter.

“Your crest, dear. I have known that crest for far too long. Way before you were even born. I see that dear Aro never changed it. He does like to remain in his same, old ways after all. Never changing, never moving forward, still imposing his “laws”, I’m assuming?” The woman seemed to know way far about the Volturi and Aro. She became a danger for our coven, from the moment she and the man abducted us. She should have never done that; they both would be punished for their actions.

“Dear, I won’t get punished..for anything. You, on the other hand, are in a pretty difficult situation. You see, my husband and I are not going to let you get away until you tell us why you are here.”

“Pain.” I heard Jane saying. The woman turned to look at her but she didn’t even flinch. I heard Jane screaming in return.

“Oh, sweetheart. Your powers won’t work on either of us. You see, I am a shield, so don’t even try to hurt us. On the contrary, WE can hurt you just as much, if not more.” The woman smiled evilly, while Jane was writhing in pain.

“Please, stop hurting my sister.” Alec pleaded, unable to use his gift against the couple.

“So, you are the “Terror Twins”. Alec and Jane, I see.” The woman knew their nickname? “Oh, yes, I do, dear.” She turned to look at me. “You see, I was once part of the Volturi. Technically, still am. However, I left, way before any of you joined the coven. To put it into perspective, I was there when Didyme lived but I left way before she was killed. Dear Marcus has never been the same ever since. I still feel somewhat of a connection to the coven, though I am able to make my own decisions because I managed to escape them. We were actually passing by Volterra a few times. I wonder how you never noticed us, though our powers would practically make us mentally invisible from Demetri, over here, or any other vampire, really.”

She knew Demetri, too?

“Felix, dear, I know all of you and about you. You see, my dear daughter has a special connection with all of you, a kind of friendship neither my husband, nor I quite understand. It wasn’t easy for her to keep her memories secret; though she is an amazing shield - which makes me so proud, she is kind of “vulnerable” when she is sleeping. And my husband’s magic is quite strong and easy to penetrate her mind and memories when she does eventually sleep.”

Her daughter? Could that be…?

“WHERE IS SHE?” The question slipped out of my mouth without even thinking about it first.

My anger could not be controlled right now. I was pushing myself to my limits to break my fetters, to no avail. Were that woman and that man (Y/N)’s parents? I started making some connections here and there; they looked similar to (Y/N), though so different at the same time. Their immortality, their red eyes, their confidence, and their aggression did not remind me of (Y/N). She had a pure face, a face of kindness, she was not like them.

“You think so? Alexandre, can you please call (Y/N), agapi mou?” The woman turned to the man, and the man started moving his fingers in front of him, creating some sort of a wave around him.

Within a few seconds, the door burst open and the first thing I saw was a red silky fabric flowing around the air. When the fabric settled down slowly, I saw her for the first time after so long. She has changed..a lot. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were replaced by piercing red ones, with a slight hint of (Y/E/C) around the pupils. Her eyes apathetic and stern; her facial features more defined; her hair reached a little below her shoulders, straight and shiny, like her father’s. She still looked as beautiful as ever.

She stared at us, focusing her eyes mostly on me. Her heartbeat sounded steady and strong. I was relieved; she was still human, they had not turned her fully vampire yet. She took a few steps farther into the house, her feet bare but surprisingly clean, no dirt, no grass had stained them. She stood right beside the woman, who I now knew was her mother and Aro’s daughter.

“What are they doing here?” Her voice came out stern, yet it was music to my ears.

I missed her voice so much. I missed her so much. Our mate bond, weakened by the distance and time spent apart, slowly started forming again. I felt it; I felt my existence becoming meaningful again. I felt my breath hitching in my throat, her presence provoking so many different feelings and emotions inside me. However, she still seemed cold and distant, and I couldn’t quite read her face. Did she not feel the same? Has she forgotten me? Does she hate me now?

I saw her gaze getting softer, even compassionate? She approached me and bent down slightly, placing her left hand carefully on my right cheek. She stared deeply into my eyes and I closed mine, leaning on her touch. It was the purest moment I have experienced in my 2000 years of life.

I opened my eyes and stared at her. I saw golden flakes scattered in between the red in her eyes. Once again, she took my breath away. It felt as if I fell in love with her all over again, a unique feeling of refreshment. We were lost in our own little world. She smiled slightly at me, the first time she did after such a long time.

“Enough! (Y/N) get away from him, now!” (Y/N) was forcefully removed away from me by her mother. She was looking at me pleadingly and then turned to look at her parents with such hatred. I’ve never seen her like this ever again, not even with Aro.

“YOU. WILL. NOT. TELL. ME. WHAT. TO. DO!” If looks could kill, (Y/N)’s parents would be dead by now. Her hands started lighting up, bright purple flames rising up. She was trying to intimidate her parents, but neither of them looked concerned in the slightest. She turned to us and with a dance-like move of her hand, we were finally freed of our fetters.

It was her father’s turn to speak. “(Y/N), let’s take this outside.” With a jerking motion of his hand, we all found ourselves, outside, in their house’s front yard.

“They’ve come to take you back to Volterra, back to Aro! Don’t you see it? They don’t care about you! They just want to please their master.” The words came bitter out of her mouth. She had a clear resentment towards the Volturi. “I will not let them take you away from me! Not again!”

“I know, mother, I’ve read their minds, too. Yet, I don’t see why YOU seem to think that you can make the decisions for me. I am my own self. I can make decisions for myself. And I get to choose what I do with my life.” (Y/N)’s voice was certain, powerful, in control. “They are not bad people, mother. They just have to follow orders, just like you followed Aro’s orders, just like I followed yours. That’s not going to happen anymore. I am taking control of my life!”

The sweet, little girl I got to see my whole life was becoming a strong, powerful woman right in front of my eyes. She was radiating power; she was taking control of her life. She was..my everything. She was becoming independent, her own self. To say I was proud of her, would be an understatement. She has always been special, but this newly-found power has clearly given her way more confidence and trust in herself.

She would finally be able to rule the Volturi. If she decided to come back to Volterra, she could definitely take over the coven. No one would be able to resist her or her gift. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when her dad started shouting in Greek.

Demetri, who was standing right next to me, saw the look of total confusion in my eyes. “I’ll translate for you.” I nodded at him. “So, her father says: Enough with this nonsense, (Y/N). Your place is here, with us. You owe us; we taught you what you needed to know about your magic. We taught you how to use it, how to develop it. You didn’t know enough to defend yourself back then.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: I don’t owe you anything. Yes, you did teach me how to use my magic, which I inherited from you. But, you gave me away to Aro. You couldn’t defend me or yourselves against him. You just offered me to him, as if I was a present for his birthday or something.”

“Now, her mother says: You, at least, owe it to yourself to get away from these tyrants. You know they don’t deserve you, so why are you still defending him? It’s that man, isn’t it? Now, (Y/N) says: That man has a name. Now, her mom says: You know, his name means “lucky”, "happy" in Greek. Yet, he hasn’t been that lucky or happy at all, has he? We read his mind, (Y/N), he’s not worthy of you.”

“Now, (Y/N) says: Guess what? I have also read his mind, and I have also read the two of you, as well. Don’t you think that it is only you who can read my mind while I’m sleeping! I’ve been reading your minds any chance I get! I know how you’ve been planning to use me, as a weapon against the Volturi! Guess again! I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore! And that man deserves EVERYTHING in this world!”

“ENOUGH!” Her father shouted and threw a dark red glowing sphere, hitting (Y/N) and knocking her on the ground. My heart dropped at the sight, but she quickly stood up and gathered so much energy in her own hands, attacking her father with a powerful hit.

He got wounded, his face slightly cracked from his forehead to his jaw, yet he didn’t give up. He was about to attack her once again when his wife stopped him. She was looking at me and nodded to her husband. I heard (Y/N) screaming, but I didn’t make out what she was saying, as I started screaming myself and felt myself getting tossed in the air. Then, everything went black once again.

#felix volturi #felix volturi imagine #felix volturi x reader #volturi #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight post #demetri volturi #alec volturi #jane volturi #the cullens #the denali coven

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moonlight404-translates · 2 years

Text

A3! Tsukioka Tsumugi | R - Acting-Type Manzai Teacher | Translation

Quote: “Comedy is tough, but I've noticed that using your strong points can make others laugh as well”.

Special thanks to dessasob for talking me about this backstage and Noodles for proofreading it ♡

Translation reposted from my old account

-------------------------------------

Disclaimer: Neither english or japanese are my native language, but I did my best with the translation. If you find any mistake, feel free to tell me. By the way, Director’s name will be Izumi.

The Garden and The Marshmallow Gang Leaders /1

Tsumugi: Finally is the third 3rd MANMAN Grand Prix. It’s been a while since we teamed up as marshmugi. But let’s do our best! Hisoka: Uhm, I’m counting on you… Tsumugi: Then, we have to think of jokes to do right away. Tsumugi: It’s been a long time since we held the last event. How about trying a different approach this time? Hisoka: …other than gesture games? Tsumugi: Yes. For example, taking turns to be the straight guy and the funny guy. Hisoka: Sounds tiring… Tsumugi: Ahaha… well it’s just an idea. Tsumugi: I’m not familiar with such comedy. I know. We should ask Director and the rest of the winter troupe about it. Hisoka: Okay…

Tsumugi: …So that’s the thing. We haven’t come up with a good idea yet. Azuma: I see. Well, it’s not easy to come up with a new routine. Izumi: Last time, marshmugi gesture routine had a quite Tsumugi-like style. Tasuku: That’s right. The bar is set too high. Guy: I would like to help, but I haven’t recollected enough data related to Japanese comedy. …I apologize. Tsumugi: There’s no need. I appreciate you are listening to us about this. Homare: Oh, an idea has come! You could recite one of my poems— Tasuku: Rejected. Hisoka: I’m not doing that. It’ll be a complete failure. Homare: Wouldn't you at least listen to me until the very end!? Tsumugi: Well, your poems are part of your pair with Tasuku, Homare-san. We can’t borrow them anyways. Azuma: Ah, they might be similar to Grand routine.

Homare: Wait, right there. Our team’s name is not Grand. It’s Grand Fromage Brioche Fermata! Hisoka: It’s unnecessarily long no matter how much I hear it… Grand is better. Tasuku: The name doesn't matter. I mean, I wouldn’t participate if I could… Homare: Tasuku-kun, aren’t you being a bit too cold with me!? Izumi: Ahaha… ah, I know. How about a routine with your hobbies and favorite things? Izumi: Hisoka with marshmallows and Tsumugi with flowers! Hisoka: A marshmallow routine… sounds fun. Tsumugi: I see. Our favorite things might be good to expand our ideas. Tasuku: And the joke range might expand as well. Azuma: Then, will you choose that route? Tsumugi: Yes, we are going to think more about it. Thank you very much, everyone!

Izumi: Ah, everyone has gathered here. Tasuku: Were you also called, Director? Izumi: Yes. They asked me to watch their new routine before the show, so I came to watch. Azuma: Fufu. I’m excited to see marshmugi’s new routine. Tsumugi: Everyone has gathered. Well then, please take a look at the result of our practices! Tsumugi: Titled— “The Garden and The Marshmallows Gang Leaders”! Hisoka: Thanks for having us… Izumi: (What kind of skit will it be…?)

The Garden and The Marshmallow Gang Leaders /2

Tsumugi: “I’m The Garden Gang Leader, Mugiko” Hisoka: “I’m The Marshmallow Gang Leader, Mashuko!” Tsumugi: “The gardens of this world!” Hisoka: “And the marshmallows’ peace!” Tsumugi & Hisoka: “We will protect!” Izumi: (Are they playing female gang leaders!?) Azuma: Fufu. A darker setting than you thought. Homare: Mm. Very innovative and interesting, I would say. Hisoka: “We’re close friends. However, on an awful weekend…” Tsumugi: “Grow biig, grow preetty. Ah… but not more pretty than me, okay?” Hisoka: “Marshmallow!” Tsumugi: “Ah, morning Mashuko! Isn’t today perfect for flowers! Hisoka: “Marshmallow!” Tsumugi: “Hm? ...ah, right! It’s your 1-minute per hour prime time where you can only speak the marshmallow language!” Guy: Marshmallow language… I haven’t heard that language before. I’m quite interested in it. Izumi: Because it isn’t real! Guy-san, you don’t have to take manzai routines so seriously!

Hisoka: “Marshma… Come on, Mugiko, it’s lame to be fired up over flowers.” Tsumugi: “Huh?” Hisoka: “...This is bad. My prime time ended and you caught me saying that☆ Tehepero Marshmallow☆.” Tsumugi: “Wait, don’t try to play with me!” Izumi: …Pft! Tasuku: Haha… Their comedy is right on point. We can expect a second win with this, right? Hisoka: “Sorry, Mugiko! I’m truly sorry! So, please forgive me!” Tsumugi: “Mashuko…” Tsumugi: “Well, isn’t that twinspur’s flower language!” Tasuku: …pfft…! Izumi: …? Izumi: Ahmm… How was this flower again? And its flower language…? Homare: I’m a bit unsure as well… Azuma: Hmm, what a hard to get retort. Hisoka: Hisoka: …I’m feeling sleepy… zzz. Guy: Mikage fell asleep. Is it also part of the skit? Izumi: Probably not. Izumi: (Are Tsumugi-san and Hisoka-san going to be alright…?)

Tsumugi: …and that’s all. Thank you for watching! Hisoka: …zzz…zzz… Tsumugi: How was our manzai routine? Izumi: It was… how to say it… Azumi: Well… I think the first part was very interesting. Izumi: (None of us seem to know what to say…) Izumi: (Right… we have Tasuku-san. They have gotten along the longest. Let’s try to lead the question to him.) Izumi: What do you think about them, Tasuku-san? You are Tsumugi’s childhood friend. You should be the first… to… Tasuku: Hahaha… I laughed a lot… my stomach hurts… Izumi: Eeeh!? A-Are you alright, Tasuku-san!? Izumi: (He found them that funny!?) Guy: This could be the first time I’ve seen Takato laughing like that.

Homare: Indeed, is it Tasuku-kun into these sorts of jokes? Azuma: I wonder. Maybe it’s because of Tsumugi? Tasuku: I can’t… I remember them and start laughing… hahaha… I can’t speak… Izumi: (Who would have thought Tasuku-san was going to laugh this much. I feel like I’ve seen a pretty rare side of his…) Tsumugi: So you like it that much, Tasuku... “I’m Mugiko! A 25-year-old girl gang leader who makes flowers blush”! Hisoka: “A lively high school girl trying to enter college for the 7th time!” Tasuku: Pfft… hahaha! Izumi: Please stop teasing him, you two!

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Notes: Tsumugi and Hisoka use a feminine way to talk mixed with kansai dialect in their comedy routine.

#a3! translation #tsumugi tsukioka #a3!#a3! tsumugi #fuyugumi #a3! backstage story #manman gp event

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Diplomatic Affairs

Summary: Being Queen as a figure-head position is almost a walk in the park. If one can look past having dinner with the newly elected officials of government, some of whom happen to be ex-boyfriends.

A/N: Part 2 to The Suitors

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

5 Years Later

“Ma’am, the King is requesting your presence,” Michael said, his head peering through the doorway.

You straightened your necklace, before smoothing your hands down the skirt of your dress, giving yourself one last lookover in the mirror. “Where is he?”

“Office, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Michael,” you smiled as you moved past him. “How long until the guests arrive?”

Michael checked his watch. “A half hour.”

“Perfect.”

While it would have been customary for Michael to accompany you down to the offices, and announce your arrival to the King, Michael knew you preferred the less formal approaches when the circumstances permitted. You rapped your knuckles once against the door, waiting for the call of “Come in,” before pushing your way into the room.

The King had his back to you, staring out the window. His suit jacket lay neatly across the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his button down were rolled midway up his forearms. It was his preferred way of wearing his suit when he could, and you couldn’t disagree with the choice. “You sent for me?” you prompted when he still didn’t turn his attention from the window.

He turned then, a warm smile on his face. “Yes, I-” he paused to clear his throat, his cheeks coloring. “You look amazing, darling.”

“Looking pretty sharp yourself, Cal,” you returned the compliment as you each crossed the room to each other, meeting in the middle.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, his tone a low rasp you knew well. “You look like we’re bound to get in trouble if we’re alone much longer.”

You sighed, titling your head to the side as his lips found your neck. “Michael did say something about there being a spare half hour.”

“The things I have in mind will require much longer,” Calum said, before straightening up and clearing his throat.

You sighed again, this time in discontent. “Well, I suspect we’ll find time to finish that particular business later?” you asked, your fingers grazing where his mouth had just been, wishing it was still there.

“Earliest convenience, promise,” he winked.

“And what’s this particular meeting about then?”

“Right. Yes. Uh, it’s the guest list.” He went around to his desk, shuffling through papers, his fingers trailing down one of them.

“What about it?” you asked, moving to stand by his side, looking at whatever held his interest.

“It's dinner with members of Parliament.”

“I’m aware. What of it?”

“None of these names look familiar to you?”

You glanced down at the list. Prime Minister Lord James. Secretary of Commerce Duke Charles. And Secretary of Defense Lord Sebastian. “Oh, it’ll be lovely to see James and Charles again! I’m glad their elections went in their favor.”

“Yes, the more amiable of your ex-boyfriends. And then there’s…” Calum let his sentence trail off, and you could easily guess the words of disdain for the newest Secretary of Defense.

“Our favorite person,” you deadpanned. “Pleasant.”

“False. Collectively, our favorite person happens to be the Prince. Individually, you’re my favorite person.”

“I would certainly hope your wife and son would top the list of your favorite people,” you laughed.

“Speaking of our son, where is he?”

“Either with the nanny, or running security ragged. Most likely both.”

“We should go rescue them, huh?”

“We definitely should.”

“Oh, look! There’s Mommy and Daddy!” Kaykay, the nanny, breathed in relief as you and Calum came out to the garden in search of your son.

“There is a god,” Ashton, the head of security, joked, clasping his hands together and thanking the sky, making both you and Calum laugh as Noah ran straight for you and Calum with a shriek of “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Well, don’t you look handsome!” you cooed at the boy as Calum lifted him up in his arms. “Just like Daddy.”

“All clean!” the three year old beamed.

“Yes, you did stay clean for dinner. Great job, bud,” Calum told him, and you each mouthed thanks to Ashton and Kaykay knowing they had more to do with keeping Noah clean than Noah did.

“Want to play,” Noah said sadly.

“All day tomorrow,” Calum said.

“With you?!”

“Yes, bud. All day tomorrow. Me, you, and Mommy.”

“Pwomise?”

“Promise,” you smiled sweetly at him. Then, “Are you ready to meet your guests?”

“Weady!”

Perhaps it wasn’t the standard to have a three year old sit in on a stuffy dinner, congratulating the newly elected officials in government. But with how busy you and Calum could become, you both liked to include Noah in your affairs whenever possible. And the idea of subjecting the young boy to a dinner without his parents wasn’t an idea that you found all that appealing, having remembered growing up with about as many dinners with members of staff as your own parents. A childhood you didn’t want to subject your son to if you could help it. And, as the Queen, you could.

As luck would have it, as you all made your way inside, you spotted Michael rushing your way. “First guest is here, ma’am.”

“So it begins,” you said, putting on a smile. And begin it did, because when the door opened to let in the first guest, Lord Sebastian was on the other side. Punctual bastard…

~~~

“Is there a spare bedroom or…?” Calum let the sentence hang in the air between the two of you.

“There are several. But when I asked you to stay over, I meant with me in my room if that’s alright.”

“It’s more than alright with me. I don’t want there to be any insinuation. There’s already going to be a scandal with the Little Lord as is.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Lord Sebastian had a lapse in judgment, and then you escorted me home. That’s my side of the story anyway. What say you?”

“I say you’re already thinking like a queen.”

Quietly, the two of you made your way into the castle and towards your room. “Can you, erm…” You twirled your index finger in a circle.

“Yeah, of course,” Calum nodded, closing his eyes and facing away from you. “Just say when.”

Quickly, you changed for bed and got yourself situated under the covers. “Okay, you can look now.”

“And I suppose now it’s my turn to ask you to close your eyes?”

You covered your eyes with your hands, peeking out at him through your fingers. “Cheeky thing, you are,” he laughed, stripping out of his clothes and lying them neatly on a chair. “Is this what I have to look forward to in the future? You peeking at me through your fingers?”

“Well, there are separate bedrooms for the King and Queen, so you could have your own privacy if you wish.”

“Mmm, now where’s the fun in that?” he asked, and you felt the bed dip as he got in next to you.

“A remaining product of when the castle was built, unfortunately. Although, they were kind enough to make them adjoining rooms. In recent years, not much use has been made of the Queen’s room, as one can imagine why.”

“Well, when I’m King, my first order of business is to have that wall taken down. A remodel for the modern age.”

“If you’re King,” you corrected in a teasing tone. “Don’t consider yourself safe simply because you’re the only one I’m seeing now.”

He chuckled softly. “If I’m King,” he said, “it’ll be the greatest title I ever hold to my name. Not because it's the title of King, mind you. But because it means you’re my Queen.”

“Keep talking like that, and that day may come sooner than you think.”

“What you call talking, I call making plans.”

“In that case, I can talk all night.”

Calum chuckled again, drawing you close to him. “As much as I would love that, we’ve had an eventful night, and no doubt have an eventful morning ahead of us. Try and get some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, settling into the pillows and Calum, feeling the exhaustion set in. “G’night.”

“G’night, darling.”

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, nor if you had even fallen asleep at all before you were startling awake. Adrenaline pounded through your veins as you oriented yourself, realizing you weren’t in fact still stuck with Sebastian in a horrible nightmare. However, your relief at waking from the dream was short-lived when you calmed down enough to be aware of an extra body in your bed. You froze in terror, not daring to make a sound, while also contemplating screaming at the top of your lungs.

The body next to you stirred, and you scurried from bed, breathing heavily, both ready to confront whoever was with you, and run for your life if necessary. “Darling?” Calum’s voice rasped heavily with sleep. “You alright?”

Your body went weak with relief, and you put out your hands to catch yourself on the bed before shakily crawling back in. “That… Was terrifying.”

“Mmm, what happened?” he asked, trying to rouse himself awake.

“Nightmare coupled with forgetting you were here.”

Calum stiffened. “That bastard… You sure you’re alright?”

“Better than I was a few moments ago,” you answered honestly.

“I know the nightmares will probably persist for a while, but know that future King or not, I’m never going to let him get close enough to you for him to even think of laying a hand on you ever again.”

“Between you and the new security detail I’ll no doubt be assigned by my father once he learns what happened, not only will I be the most protected heir in history, but having any sort of nightmare will feel incredibly foolish. In fact, it already feels foolish. I know I’m safe.”

“It’s not foolish. However you have to process this event is however you have to process it. And I’ll be here to help you through it as long as you let me.”

~~~

“Your Majesties,” Lord Sebastian greeted with a bow.

“Your Lordship,” you and Calum each returned, you with a small curtsy, and Calum with a bow of his own.

“Your Royal Highness,” Lord Sebastian then bowed to the Prince.

“Your Wordship,” Noah replied, with his own little bow.

“Raising him well, I see,” Sebastian commented offhandedly.

“Never too young to learn how to behave Princely,” you smiled sweetly.

The blue sea stormed over briefly at the dig, then Sebastian cleared his throat. “Yes, well.”

“What my wife meant to say was congratulations on your election. We wish you success in your new position,” Calum stepped in.

“Yes, of course,” you nodded.

“Thank you,” Sebastian said, turning his attention to Calum. “And I suppose I should offer you the same congratulations on your successes since we last saw each other. A wedding, a coronation, and a son. Quite the list of accomplishments.”

“Congratulations carry the notion that I won something, Your Lordship. I assure you that my accomplishments, as you call them, are the natural progression of living my life. A natural progression I’m sure would have befallen anyone else in my position.”

“Yes, quite. Although, some would consider marrying into the most royal of families a win of the highest regard.”

“Some lesser minded folk, I’m certain.”

“Ah, yes. A reluctant king, how could I have forgotten.”

Calum’s jaw ticked slightly, and for a moment, the three of you were five years younger on a London street, Calum and Sebastian one insult away from pummeling each other. “Reluctancy suggests that there was hesitance, of which I assure you there was none on my part whenever it came to the Queen. In fact, if memory serves, it was you who was the hesitant one. Now remind me, what were your hesitancies with becoming King again? An archaic notion of gender norms, was it not? Pity. However, I suppose your position with the military, and now your newest rank brings you great joy. Not a lot of women to outrank you in your current status I assume. Yes, a great joy indeed for you, isn’t it?”

“Are you suggesting I have a problem with women in positions in power?”

“No, of course not. It’s not a suggestion at all. One needs to barely glance your direction to come to that conclusion for oneself.”

Sebastian’s eyes darkened again, and his mouth twisted to continue trading insults with Calum, but Michael came in to announce the arrival of more guests at the same time Luke came from the kitchens to announce dinner was ready.

“Foot hurt?” Noah asked with concern as you all made your way into the dining room, pointing a little finger at the way Lord Sebastian’s right foot slightly dragged.

“Residual effect of a training exercise gone awry a few years back. Likes to flare up from time to time is all,” Sebastian explained, more for your and Calum’s benefit than Noah’s.

“How terrible,” Calum deadpanned.

“Otay?” Noah checked.

“Yes, Lord Sebastian’s foot is fine, sweet one,” you told your son.

~~~

“Well, are we right in assuming that Lord Sebastian would put out a statement about how the Princess attacked him?” your mother asked, after you and Calum had relayed the story the following morning.

“Attacked him?! Oh, please…” you scoffed.

“If Lord Sebastian puts out a statement, that could very well be the story he leads with, at the very least. At most, he puts forth a statement that he was attacked both by you and Calum,” your father put in.

“So, what are our options because that’s exactly what he’ll do,” Calum asked.

“Lord Sebastian is the military one, yes?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Hmm. I can work with that.”

“And the Princess’ wrist and her nightmares?” Calum pressed.

“It’s a small bruise, Cal. Nothing that won’t fade in a week’s time, or that a little makeup can’t cover,” you assured him.

“And the nightmares?” he continued to press anyway.

“I suspect the nightmares will subside in their own time. But there will be a new security detail assigned to you,” your father directed at you.

~~~

“Well, that was…” you started as you and Calum got ready for bed, but faltered on what words you wanted to use.

“Dreadfully boring?” Calum supplied.

“So dreadfully boring. Men and their politics are always the same. Grandiose are the plans they promise to the people for advancement or change. All for it to die on the Parliament floor. If any change is made at all, it’s only to secure a re-election, and it’s subtle and underhanded in just the right way that nothing actually becomes of it. A complete mockery of what it’s supposed to be.”

“Usually, I’d be in agreement with you. That the original intention of the government was to do what the crown neglected to do. But, as the crown, we now have the power to make sure the government is responsible to the people it governs. After all, isn’t that the function of a constitutional monarchy? For the crown and the government to hold each other accountable?”

“In an ideal system, yes. However, for that to work, it would require us to play nicely with a certain Lord Sebastian, and I quite despise the man.”

“Yes, that will prove to be an obstacle. But he’s one man in comparison to the rest of the government. Surely we can institute change without needing him on our side.”

“I suppose you’re right. But, all that business can wait until later, as we have plans with the Prince tomorrow.”

“That we do. And if I remember correctly, we also have unfinished business ourselves that needed attending to.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, carding your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “And, remind me. What business was that precisely?”

“I think this might help jog your memory,” he rasped, before his lips attacked the sweet spot just above your collarbone. Then, his hands were guiding you to jump in his arms, where you carried you to the bed, giggles and then sighs echoing off the walls, as his mouth trailed a path lower and lower on your body.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @1weekago @wiiildflowerrr @heartskippeddabeat @notinthesameguey

#diplomatic affairs #calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood x reader #calum hood AU #the crown AU #king!calum #queen!reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

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Preference: What Does Amortentia Smell Like to Them?

Amortentia, for those unaware or having forgotten, is the name given to what we would call a love potion, as depicted in the Harry Potter universe. While the nature of love potions is dubious at best, the one thing I think amortentia’s got going for it is that its aroma differs depending on the person, so no two people will always smell the exact same thing. Generally speaking, a proper amortentia will smell like whatever the individual is drawn to or likes. As a result, this can mean that it smells like anything, from reminders of home to the smells of their favorite foods, to the smells that bring them comfort, to reminders of the people they love and were loved by. Things that would soothe somebody enough to be tempted enough to sip it. I thought it would be interesting to explore what smells make them happiest/feel the most love and loved. So without further ado . . .

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance, Benoit Blanc, Geralt, M’Baku

Bruce Wayne

Prime rib. Aged scotch. Expensive perfumes spritzed on the necks of statuesque stunners . . . These are the smells Bruce came into contact with the most, and they were symbolic of the luxury that his lifestyle was open to.

And they were also far from what Bruce would likely smell if he were to ever come across amortentia.

Surprisingly, Bruce enjoys much simpler smells. Smells with specific memories and feelings attached to them. For example, his mother’s perfume: Bruce doesn’t remember the brand, and it honestly probably wasn’t anything too expensive (his mother, for the most part, preferred to air on the side of modesty, all things considered), but the scent nevertheless is one that comforts him even to this very day, many years later. It reminds him of his youth, of his mother pressing her hand to his forehead whenever he ran a fever, of the hugs she would give him before and after school. It is a comforting smell, and one that reminds him of the safety there can be in being loved.

The smell of buttery popcorn is a another favorite, albeit bittersweet. Of course, it has connections to that tragic night when everything changed. But there’s just something about it . . . Just being with his parents. Seeing a movie together, that one last moment . . . It took Bruce years before he could properly cherish the stimuli found on that night without a feeling sinking into the pit of his stomach, or without a hint of static screeching in his mind for a second. But the day did come. And perhaps in a route of recovery, he finds himself enjoying the popcorn smell and the lighter memories he’s become determined to assign to it.

The most recent smell to join his favorites, however, is that of fresh laundry. Not linen washed and dried in premier detergents or fabric softeners, mind you: Just whatever brand you’d been using that one day he came home. Whatever they were, they were what the house smelled like. It was what he smelled when you walked up to him, balancing a basket of freshly-dried linen on your lip. It was what filled his nostrils when you exchanged a “welcome home” kiss.

It was the smell his body tucked away to mark the moment: It was the point he truly realized that you were It for him.

Dinah Lance

The problem with Dinah is that she’s a bit of a tough cookie to crack: She doesn’t easily let people in, much less show any signs of vulnerability, and she constantly exudes the idea that she’s indifferent to the people around. Well, she tries to, at least. But in spite of it being a non-sentient potion, the amortentia knows better: The moment Dinah smells the stuff, she’s hit with a whirlwind of soft spots. All of which concern you, from one very specific moment.

Dinah’s dating life has never exactly been on point, but she was willing to see what happened with you when you came around. She really wasn’t rushing to put a title on whatever it was the two of you had, be it drinking buddies, party buddies, or, God forbid, Girlfriends with a capital “g”. That is, until one particular night out: You suspected that maybe a run with the Birds hadn’t gone as planned, because you were currently watching your . . . drinking-party-boo-thang-buddy . . . pounding shots like they had money at the bottom of each glass. But you weren’t about to push for details. She vaguely remembered appreciating that at the time, but didn’t remember much else when she woke up with a pounding headache the next day.

Beneath all the grossness of her current existence, she appreciated how everything otherwise seemed to be blessedly merciful: The curtains were closed, muting any damnable light; the sheets weren’t stifling enough to cause the vodka sweats; the t-shirt she now wore smelled like your soap --

She didn’t remember you taking her back to your place, or you taking the time to not only changer her out of her tightly-fitted clothing and into the much more breathable sleeping shirt. And when she stumbled into the kitchen to find you quietly setting up the table with some takeout you’d just picked up, she realized she didn’t remember you joining her in bed or even the feeling of you waking up, either.

But when she tried to bring it up, you insisted it wasn’t a big deal. Instead, you shooed her away to the bathroom to take a much-appreciated shower. And the moment she stepped into the bathroom, she smelled it: Your hair products. They weren’t even anything special, just the usual kind you could grab at one of the many rinky-dink, common beauty shops that lined this area of Gotham. Hell, Dinah had some of them herself. But the smells were just so strong that her memory couldn’t help but file them away. They weren’t even nauseating to her vulnerable state, just . . . strong. Enough to latch on in his mind, right alongside the pho that greeted her when she had finally finished cleaning up.

Soupy dishes were the best for combating hangovers, you reasoned. So while it might’ve been an unconventional brunch dish, it was one you made sure accounted for your drinking buddy/party buddy/maybe-girlfriend’s current state. And while it wasn’t in Dinah’s more immediate nature to feel all “mushy” and “gushy” about it, it wasn’t something that slipped her attention, no matter how garbled it might have been in the moment.

Fast-forwarding to now, there’s no question about it: You are one another’s Girlfriends with a capital “g”. And if Dinah were to catch a whiff of amortentia, all she would be able to think about would be those smells that remind her of you.

Benoit Blanc

It’s no secret that Benoit loves himself a good cigar. Specifically, one of the lancero variety if it happens to be on hand. Smoking is a bit of a guilty pleasure of his but clearly not too guilty, considering he’s still prone to doing so while on the job. He just flat out enjoys the rich, almost spicy flavor, almost masochistically tickling his lungs with every puff. But he supposes that that’s just how addiction works, so it would make sense that that’s one of the things he would gather from an amortentia brew.

Less than expected (at least, to those that aren’t him), however, is the scent of mothballs. Or perhaps it’s best referred to as an odor, because while it isn’t the worst smell, it’s not exactly one that many would call pleasant, either. But to Benoit, it reminds him of playing in his Nana’s attic, making blanket forts from her quilts and the trunks and her old hope chest. Admittedly, it isn’t a romantic or even particularly enticing smell but for Benoit, it’s just right: It fills him with the melancholic sweetness of nostalgia, reminding him of a time where he felt so safe and blissfully ignorant to what a strange world he lived in.

An ignorance that was sullied as he grew older and began to follow somewhat in his father’s footsteps, becoming ruthlessly torn apart once he officially entered the world of investigating. However, this wasn’t to say that he had been left bitter and vulnerable. In fact, in his older years, Benoit can’t help but know that there’s plenty of things left in life to see the beauty in, and to find pure happiness and optimism with.

Take, for example, Chinese food.

Plenty people might find themselves identifying the bouquet of food in amoirtentia: The MSG-rich noodles and dumplings, the mouth-watering scent of rice fried just long enough to obtain a hint of crunch to it . . . It would make perfect sense for someone -- anyone, really -- to list them as one of the things in the amortentia. And these reasons are all well and good, but they aren’t the reasons Benoit would identify it.

As it so happens, Chinese food was what he smelled one day as he entered the precinct, looking for files related to a specific case. It was because you were the one eating it. And whether he committed the details of that meeting to memory because it was in his nature as a detective, or because his soul somehow knew it was important that he remember, every image and reminder that his senses could gather were grabbed with desperation and held close.

And ever since then, every time the man has smelled Chinese food, it’s been accompanied by a sense of warmth; a feeling of relief and happiness that washed over him like a hug sourcing from his heart and soul.

But also hunger because come on, it’s impossible to not feel your stomach growl and mouth water when you smell that stuff.

Geralt

To be perfectly frank, Geralt and pleasant smells do not commonly go hand in hand. It’s honestly hard to when you spend so much of your time on the road, away from a bath, and fighting monsters with none-too-pleasant-smelling innards. On top of this, that his sense of smell is only enhanced by his mutation can make enjoying certain aromas difficult at best and borderline incapacitating at worst. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate good smells when he encounters them. He just may not actively voice his approval of them.

Hell, he might not even admit to himself what he enjoys.

He’s most ready to allow himself to enjoy petrichor, as most anyone would be able to find that enjoyable. There’s very little intimate reason behind liking it; but his constant ventures in the wild have allowed him a stronger familiarity than most with it. It’s particularly gratifying when he and Roach have some semblance of a shelter to lay beneath, able to watch the fat drops replenish the dry earth . . . It’s a calming scent for him, one that he won’t necessarily fight himself for liking.

The complete opposite of the second smell that shocks his senses: That of a home-cooked meal. Now, this may cause some confusion to many, given that home-cooked meals are generally considered downright pleasant things. And considering that the Witcher doesn’t come across many during his travels, one would assume he’d relish in such a scent bearing meaning for him. But for Geralt, they’re reminders. Ones he doesn’t want to have, but has nonetheless. Which is a pity, given that what he assumes is the source isn’t entirely the truth.

For Geralt, smelling a home-cooked meal surely is linked with his memories of his mother. But for his subconscious, it’s got more to do with what such banquets mean: Stability. Safety. Structure. Things Geralt’s nomadic lifestyle is lacking. You can’t quite have a feast of roasted pheasant and quail eggs and roasted vegetables from the garden or fruit tarts when you travel so constantly: You need a foundation. Someone to help prepare such a meal with. Someone to share with.

And the thought frustrated Geralt. That is, until he smelled the third and final scent.

Having an awareness of botany and plantlife as a whole comes with the education of being a Witcher. So of course, Geralt knew what the properties of certain flowers were, what they were used for, and so on. He never thought of them beyond practical means such as for healing for for herbs or teas. And he never thought much of lavender until he smelled it on you. You giggled sheepishly as you explained that you couldn’t help yourself: This was the first inn you had stopped at in ages, you had wanted to treat yourself to some scented oils.

“Lavender for relaxation,” you explained. “I want to take full advantage of sleeping in a bed for once and just fall straight to sleep the moment my head hits that pillow.”

Geralt nodded, not knowing what more to offer. But he also sniffed. Not with bemusement, but with . . . need. He liked the smell. He liked the smell on you. It was calming. You were calming. It wasn’t an epiphany or anything; it was just a moment his brain decided to capture by way of scent. And now it was in there, inside him, reminding him of a moment of relaxation.

It is the most calming scent that the amortentia can offer for him personally, and he would never out loud admit to it being his absolute favorite.

M’Baku

The thing was, given his intentionally secluded lifestyle, M’Baku’s aroma library was rather limited when compared to his peers in the Golden City, especially with regards to those who traveled out of the country. But that suited the Jabari leader just fine: He had his sovereign, his people, and a recognized alliance with the other Wakandan tribes after centuries upon centuries of isolation – what more could he possibly want? Truthfully, very little, which was why what he might smell from an amortentia would probably be rather limited.

Really, the top three smells he could make out could be divided into sections of his life: A smell for his origins and youth; a smell representative of his progress as a leader, opening up to new experiences; and a smell that signifies how far he’s come as a whole, both as a person and as a Jabari.

Living in the snowcapped mountains of Jabariland meant that the man had always been around fire: It lit pathways on torches; it lit up and warmed rooms of dwelling spaces; it cooked food. While it had become common in the more modernist world to associate fire with destruction, the Jabari never forgot the truth: Fire was also life. It was also the source of that peculiarly sweet smokey smell that M’Baku would be able to single out in a batch of amortentia. It is a reminder of his traditionalist roots, harkening him back to the life-giving light that guided his people through all their lives, even as the rest of the country marched onward without them. And even when he gains a position in the Tribal Council, thus demanding him to familiarize himself with some aspects of the country’s use of vibranium in day-to-day life, it’s remembering scents like that familiar smell of fire that brings the Jabari leader a sense of calm even in times where he finds himself frustrated.

However, it’s also through gaining this position that his worldview and experiences grow. And for better or for worse, he has you to blame.

Even as the both of you became more and more involved, convincing somebody as stubborn as M’Baku to accompany you anywhere in the Golden City was a bit like pulling teeth: Usually, the warrior would try to spend as little time as necessary in the capital, much preferring to immediately begin taking the journey back to the mountains as soon as whatever affairs he’d left them for had ended. But time’s way of weathering things down worked on plenty things, including M’Baku’s obstinance: Eventually, he did take up your pleas offer to accompany you to an actual restaurant, rather than a food stall in the market place. You chatted up the vegan and vegetarian selection, hoping that taking note of his diet might soften the blow to his pride he was already taking. It didn’t. In fact, to your surprise, it wasn’t until the food came that there was any positive shift in your beloved’s mood.

Being the sort of man that he was, M’Baku was generally rather staunchly against eating anything that wasn’t sourced from Wakanda. And given that Brussels was not, in fact, a city in Wakanda, you were fully prepared to either consume or put aside the small side of roasted Brussels sprouts that accompanied your entree. What you weren’t prepared for, however, was the curious look on M’Baku’s face as he eyed the small bowl full of vegetables. He seemed to be perfectly content eating his roasted fish dish just moments before, but apparently something about the smell of your side dish was . . . curious to him.

You thought it was startling, to say the least. You thought perhaps Bast or even Hanuman were at play when the man actually asked to perhaps try the tiniest smidge of sprout. And you just about nearly died when your boyfriend wound up inhaling the bowl in the end. Meanwhile, M’Baku was just as shocked: the M’Baku from four years ago would never have dared to try anything grown outside of Wakanda’s borders. But perhaps that was just a testament to the sort of person he was now.

For one thing, he didn’t know you four years ago, let alone have you as a partner. But now he did. And that honestly changed everything, all things considered. Because if he never met you, then he wouldn’t have known what the third smell in the amortentia was. Really, even while knowing you, he still wouldn’t be able to identify the exact nature of it: Your body oils were a concoction in and of themselves.

They didn’t smell exactly like anything specific, yet they constantly smelled too close and familiar to scents M’Baku thought he knew from his exposure to perfume stalls in the market place: There were hints of tea tree oils; eucalyptus; lavender; some almond? A hint of sage, perhaps? A spice he couldn’t name . . . Though not quite any of those. Yet, whenever he inquired you on what you used, what gave your rich skin its melanin glow, all you would respond with would be a teasing smile. As though you were pleased the scent caught his attention and interest (which, to be honest, was indeed something you enjoyed).

If M’Baku was “lucky”, you would respond with, “It’s made with a special Jabari bait; looks like it’s working”, and he would scoff, dissatisfied from your lack of answer, but not so much that he would become disenchanted with whatever scent you chose to go by that day. Because whatever it was, whether you’d ever tell him its ingredients or not, M’Baku had already made up his mind about what the scent was: It was just (Y/N) to him. And even though he’d gone so much of his life pretty certain that he already had everything he needed, having (Y/N) made him stand corrected.

So it made sense that a potion meant to entice and draw a person in would smell like his favorite person.

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tareloin · 2 years

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MS2 HCs: Tria Nobility Relationships

Or at least some fragments of it. Much rambling/scattered ideas below the cut

NPCs involved: Frey, Allon, Ereve, Luanna

Word count: 2,415

TL;DR

Allon and Ereve were raised together with the expectation of Allon becoming her knight, but they first regarded each other as best friends. Due to their own obligations to the city, they gradually drifted apart. Luanna and Ereve grew close after Luanna begins to address Ereve by her first name rather than her typical title, but they also knew of each other even prior to adulthood. Frey met Allon and Ereve at an event held by the nobility. There, they quickly bonded (as children usually do) before parting ways. During the next few reunions, Frey only meets with Allon, and the two of them gradually grow further and further apart until they're no more than polite acquaintances. It's only until after Allon's corruption that the two of them grow closer, as Frey spends a lot of time alongside Allon's bedside as he recovers.

I've talked about Frey and Allon being in a friendly/romantic relationship often on this blog, but it came to me that I really don't know how that'd happen exactly. I've always imagined that their relationship is somewhat distant in current day, mostly due to them parting ways in the past and no longer sharing interests at present.

This was pretty much influenced by Frey stating that their relationship is a bit complicated, and I feel like the desire to reconnect (but not really being sure how to/if the other person wants to at all) would be kind of involved in that discomfort. Plus the whole "the world is doomed by the presence of the BM returning" ordeal.

Of course, their backstory is completely up in the air, so I'm taking it upon myself to develop them. I'll be talking about Ereve and Allon first, because I think it's important to give context for them specifically.

I headcanon that Ereve was born as a mortal child that just happened to get the Goddess of Light's power, as she was the best "vessel" to be contained in. But since Ereve is of royal blood, she'd be assigned a personal knight.

I'm not sure who was the knight prior Allon (probably his dad), but Allon was definitely attached to Ereve at the hip. He was raised with the expectations to protect Ereve and be her companion until he retired/died, but Allon being like 4-5 years old basically paid no attention to that.

Likewise, Ereve didn't pay much attention to Karl's teachings when she was trying to fill the role of empress left behind by her mother when she passed (during childbirth, which is what I headcanon). The two of them would often sneak out of their duties to just spend time together, whether it be playing tag in the garden or exploring the giant city.

Of course, time and expectations change people. As they grew older, Allon was officially sent off to training to become a proper knight. Ereve would often be alone in the palace, left with only books to study and lectures to listen to as the days moved on. She found comfort in the prime minister's cat, Cordelia, as well and later befriended Luanna, a priestess in training. While Allon wasn't far from the palace itself, he rarely had the time to visit his best friend for long. And when Allon befriended Mason during his training, he eventually stopped visiting.

When Allon finally returns to Ereve's side, things are different. To her, things have become too formal between them. When he greets her every morning, his voice seems stiff and unnatural. Every time he addresses her, he uses honorifics. Your Majesty. Your Highness. Empress. She misses her friend-- the one that used to cheerily greet her at her chamber door, the one that used to call her by just her first name. Even if he's standing right beside her, things aren't the same anymore.

Allon isn't happy, either. When he was younger, he always knew that he would be by Ereve's side, protecting her. He saw it as a good thing-- after all, who wouldn't want to be with their best friend all the time? Protecting her, no less. Of course, he didn't realize exactly what knighthood entailed.

It meant throwing your life away to protect the one you serve. It meant absolute loyalty to the empire and the crown.

And while Allon was willing to follow the footsteps of his father, he began to question himself. Was he willing to die for the empire, even if the sacrifice would be in vain? What of Ereve when he falls in battle? What would happen to her? Of course, these thoughts were quickly dashed by ruthless drilling by his sergeants. It was the knight's honor to fight until one's last breath, loyal to the kingdom.

But more importantly, his purpose wasn't to protect Ereve. It was to protect the empress. It didn't matter who stood in her place, and Allon gradually took those words to heart. When he met with her again, he addressed her formally for the first time.

Ereve was uncomfortable. She laughed it off, reassuring him that it wasn't necessary to call her that. And yet, he continued, even against his empress's own wishes. He had a role to fill, after all. Their relationship has changed, and so has their dynamic. They're no longer on equal ground, and the two of them know it. Allon was her knight, and Ereve was his empress. Nothing more, nothing less.

Still, Allon cares deeply for Ereve. It's hard not to, considering they grew up together. In the event that Ereve would be in danger/hurt, Allon would appear to "break character" as he rushes to her side shouting her name. When she cries, he comforts her in the best way he knows how.

To him, Ereve being happy and in good health is what truly matters. He hates seeing her riddled with as the kingdom falls apart around her, and his assignment to Shadow Gate doesn't alleviate much of his worries. He just wants to stay by her side-- not just as a knight, but also as a friend.

Still, there still holds an air of formality between him and Ereve. Unlike Allon, however, Luanna eventually grows close enough to address Ereve by her first name-- something that she hasn't heard in quite some time. At this point, Ereve realizes how much she missed having someone address her with familiar terms. But this time, it seems a bit more intimate than usual, as Luanna only truly refers to Ereve by her name when they're in private. In public, she still refers to her with her titles.

This closeness gradually leads to the two of them falling in love.

... So, how does Frey fit into literally any of this? Where was he the entire time?

We're hopping back to when they were all kids again, around six or seven years old.

Like Luanna, Frey wasn't really part of the noble class. Rather, he was part of a line of blacksmiths-- specifically, royal blacksmiths. Still, while he wasn't considered noble class like Ereve and Allon, his family was still invited to more upper-class ceremonies. Whatever it is, I'm not sure, but let's just say that Ereve and Allon are both there and it's kind of boring.

It'd be the first time that Frey attended one of these, so Allon takes interest in meeting up with him. Frey, always being the more reserved one, was a bit hesitant with opening up while Allon pretty much barraged him with a load of questions.

Eventually though, Allon managed to figure out that Frey was part of the royal blacksmiths. He's totally stoked about it because he's really into the armor and cool weapons that knights use, and Frey's kind of taken aback because he's not used to someone being so interested in it. He's pretty happy with this change however, so he and Allon talk about armor and stuff for a while.

It's a little bit into their conversation that Allon interrupts the conversation to bring Ereve over. Frey has no idea who he's bringing back, but she comes over, Frey's rightfully awestruck by the fact that Allon knows the empress of all people.

Of course, this gets looked over pretty quickly because Ereve's also pretty excited to hear about the blacksmithing (Allon managed to sweep her into his interests after talking about knights so much with her). The three of them become swift friends (as children usually do) and talk a bunch about things like armor, weapons, animals, and miscellaneous cool things.

At some point, Frey admitted that he actually wanted to become a guard. Allon was reasonably excited about this idea and tells him that he wants to be a knight. They bond over that and get hyped over the fact that maybe they'll be able to see each other more often, but when the ceremony is finally over, they hardly see each other again (at least for a few years).

When they reunite for the second time, I imagine that they're both training together, squires and cadets alike. They bunk together and have a nice old time reconnecting and catching up, but as the training for the opposing factions grows more divided with time, they soon have to part ways again.

After they've both officially graduated from their respective jobs, they meet again as guard and knight. Allon is out on one of his assignments, and Frey's transferred from Tria over to wherever Allon (and the other knights) are as reinforcement. There, they reconnect a bit but remain somewhat distant due to Allon already being quite close with Mason from their time in training.

Frey, inversely, grew up more or less alone and spent most of his time with his captain, Condor. Unlike Allon (who became more or less disillusioned with knighthood), Frey gradually became more dedicated to his role as a guard, and his studies/training was more important to him than relationships would ever be. Somewhere down the line, Condor chose him to be the next guard captain-- the greatest honor Frey could probably have.

When both Frey and Allon have received their titles as captain, the ceremony (inauguration??) would be their third and last reunion. Not because they part ways again, but because they'd be working alongside each other until their duties are done and over with.

At this point, the two of them merely regard each other as "friendly acquaintances". While they do still hold conversation outside of work, it rarely lasts for long.

For Allon, it's sort of a lingering regret for not being able to talk to him and Ereve as often as he'd like. Even though he had made friends during his time in training, he still sometimes wishes that he made more of an effort to reconnect. But with him being so far from Tria now and with so little to say to them, Allon figures that maybe there was a reason why they drifted apart anyhow.

For Frey, he'd been used to being alone for quite a while now, and he's quite content with it. Still, seeing Allon stirs some fonder memories within him, and when Allon had left to maintain the Shadow Gate, Frey couldn't help but feel a bit lonely for the first time in a while without him there. But as always, duty comes first.

This would be their relationship for a while, at least until one of them gets hurt. I'll be using a theoretical future scenario where Allon is recovering from the corruption that overtook him post-apocalypse arc.

While Allon is recovering in the hospital/being cured, he notices that besides Luanna (for obvious healing reasons), Frey is usually the one visiting him by his bedside. At first, he's a bit confused. While he knows that Frey has a tendency to check up on any injured, it feels a bit strange to be tended to by someone like him.

It's even stranger to him that Frey would take so much time out of his schedule to even stay by him. The visits aren't much longer than an hour, but Allon understands that time is precious, especially within the context of Frey's own line of work.

When he asks about it, Frey simply responds that he just wants to make sure that Allon is doing well and that someone is standing in his place as he visits. Of course, things are a bit more complicated than that.

Even though the two of them have grown distant, there's still a part of him that worries about Allon. He was his friend, and he's still his ally. And while Frey never truly says it out loud, Allon realizes this and feels the same sentiment.

During the initial visits, the two made small talk about their work as they usually did. Reports on Shadow Gate and its status. How the glutamine pill development was going. Their conversations didn't last much longer than that, but still Frey stayed.

A few days into recovery, Allon asks if Frey would bring a chess set the next time he came. Frey agrees, a rare smile appearing on his face.

"Always the strategist."

Their conversations gradually become more familiar with every game, and Allon finds himself voicing complaints for the first time in a long while.

He's growing tired of lying in the hospital bed. His recovery's going smoothly, but he doesn't feel like it's going fast enough. He doesn't have anything to do while he lies in his room, and the television bores him half to death.

Frey doesn't make much remarks on it during their time together, but the next day after, he brings Allon a small journal with a few pens.

"You told me once that you liked to write. I hope this will suffice."

And for once, Allon finds himself speechless.

He hasn't told anyone about that in some time. After all, why would he? He's rarely found the time for it between his hectic schedule, and even less so to make a close enough bond with someone to talk about their hobbies. It's been years since he was last able to do that with someone.

And a few years later, Frey still remembers.

"This means a lot... thank you."

Those words were insufficient, to say the least.

The two of them grow closer as the days pass. Allon starts to journal the passing hours in the journal that Frey gave him, writing down his schedule as well as any plot ideas he may have come up with during his time alone. Eventually, he stops journalling his routine and starts to write about his meetings with Frey.

He begins to look forward to his visits now. Whether it be just for another talk or if Frey brings something novel to just keep Allon company, he appreciates it. And while Frey does notice, he doesn't mention it.

After he's released from the hospital, Allon makes sure to visit Frey to thank him for being there for him, even if it wasn't necessary.

Frey just smiles back.

"Of course."

AAAAND that's all I can really figure out right now. The writing at the end kind of dwindled off because I don't think there's much to talk about + it's built around a scenario rather than the actual relationship, but I hope that was a decent read for y'all :"D

#Bruh this took so fuckin long JEKFWELFL #maplestory2 #ms2 #maplestory 2 #allon ms2 #frey ms2 #ereve ms2 #luanna ms2 #writare #tare time #[ be careful ]#[ stay vigilant ]

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