#maybe I’ll even make it a different color in full fae form

[peachdues]

on that note, I always said I wasn’t going to write yandere content (because personally I would end up dead because I simply could NOT be controlled like that) but something about yandere!Kyojuro is making my coochie flutter so. Yeah. The notes app is open.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Wound By a Key

I was given the opportunity to collaborate with the marvelous, amazing, talented, fantastic @spielzeugkaiser​ for this story/piece and it was SO MUCH FUN! Thank you for drawing something so amazing, thank you for sharing it with me, and thank you for this fun collab!

Based on “The Music Box Song” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

---

The first thing Geralt noticed, as he led Roach down the main road of the little hamlet, was how oddly quiet everything was. There were a few people meandering in the marketplace speaking in low tones, but otherwise the midday streets were empty. It was unusual. Especially for springtime. 

He heard the small pocket of villagers speaking as he passed them, their curious and nervous gazes following his every step.

“Do you think that’s the White Wolf?”

“Look at his hair! Who else could it be?”

“Do you think he’ll be able to break the spell?”

He reached the door of the town’s only inn and tied Roach’s reins to the hitching post outside. He gave her an affectionate nuzzle and a few quick pats before ducking through the low wooden door, the villagers’ pointed conversation pushed to the back of his mind for now. 

He needed food and lodging, first.

“Afternoon,” the innkeep nodded. Geralt nodded back and took a seat at the bar. The rotund, middle-aged man turned to face him, not a glimmer of fear or apprehension tainted his welcoming expression. “What can I do for ya, traveler?”

“I’ll have a tankard of ale, please; and stew if you have it. I also need a room for the night and a stable for my horse.”

“Two full pieces of silver will get you all of that and a bath to boot,” the man offered. Geralt gave a small, grateful smile and pulled two silvers and a copper from his purse, setting them on the counter directly in front of the beaming innkeep.

“As a thank you for your unexpected but welcome kindness.”

“Appreciated, sir.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt was just bringing the first spoonful of venison stew towards his mouth when his gaze caught on something behind the bar. His eyes narrowed and he looked down at the food suspiciously. Perhaps the man had been a little too kind to a Witcher. Maybe the kindness in his eyes really was just a well-practiced act, after all.

“Where’d you get that lute?” Geralt asked. He’d almost asked - Where’d you get Jaskier’s lute? - but that would have revealed too much.

“Oh, right. I had nearly forgotten about the lute,” the man frowned and shook his head. The Witcher caught a whiff of relief and sadness drifting off the stranger and grew even more confused. “That’s a tragic tale, really. Not good for a traveler’s appetite.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m a Witcher. I’ve seen and heard a few unpleasant things in my life.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” the innkeep chuckled. “But that’s just because I’m not a very observant person. If you’re a Witcher you might just be able to help the lad out. Would you care to hear the bard’s tale and see if it’s something your Witcher magic could fix?”

Geralt nodded and took a bite of stew, convinced that the man wasn’t actually trying to rob or kill him (or both). “Go ahead, then. Who is this bard and what horrible fate befell him?”

“A few weeks ago, just after the second thaw, children from the village started going missing at night. They’d come back at midday, their faces pale and their limbs heavy like lead weights. They would sleep for days before they could get out of bed again, and they were incredibly weak. When that bard wandered through on his way to find his friend, he heard of our blight and followed a child into the woods one evening, determined to solve the mystery and stop the madness.”

“Hmm.”

“Turns out it was the Fae -” Geralt’s head snapped up. “- And they were making the children dance all through the night for their entertainment. The faeries would make them dance until the poor little dears were totally exhausted and only had enough strength to wander back home. The bard offered to dance and play for them for two full days in exchange for the childrens’ freedom… and they agreed.”

“Fuck.”

“You sound invested in the lad’s wellbeing,” the innkeep raised an eyebrow. “I can take you to see him, if you’d like.”

“He’s here?”

“Sort of,” the man rubbed his hand up and down the back of his neck and the scent of anxiety spiked through the air. Geralt shook it off, determined to finish his meal before attending to his foolish friend and companion. “The Fae weren’t exactly happy about his interloping, you see. They accepted his terms and let him play for the full two days, and the children have been safe ever since, but they didn’t return him the way he left. Apparently the faeries decided that it would be more fun to curse him a little bit and watch the aftermath play out.”

“What is a little bit, exactly?”

Geralt had never heard of just a little bit of cursing. There were either dire consequences or death on the other end of curses and neither one were fitting ends for Jaskier’s colorful, too-short life. 

“It would be best if you finished your food, Sir Witcher. If you’re as close to the bard as I think you are, it’ll spoil your dinner to see him like this.”

---

The alderman ushered his two impromptu visitors inside and closed the door quietly behind them. He gave Geralt a slow, calculating once over. “So I take it you’re a Witcher, eh?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve come to break the fae’s curse on this bard?”

“Depends on the curse.”

“Apparently he knows the lad,” the innkeeper added helpfully. Geralt glowered and pulled his hood back away from his face. 

“I haven’t actually seen him yet, but it’s very likely that this bard and I are acquaintances.”

“Right this way, then. I’ve kept him out of the children’s hands. I didn’t know if the singing and dancing routine would still make him tired or not and I wanted to be safe; for all the help he did to rescue them from those dastardly faeries, the villagers certainly seem to enjoy turning the key and making him perform.”

Geralt grew more and more worried with every word that passed through the alderman’s lips. Singing and dancing routine? Turning the key? Making him perform? What had the faeries done to his stupidly caring friend in return for his bravery? What kind of curse had they placed on the silly, fun-loving human?

The three men crossed through the manor’s sitting room and dining room and into a clean, empty storage room that ran against the very back of the building. Positioned in the center of the floor was an enormous, intricate music box. The figure standing up from the top was facing away from them, so Geralt took a moment to inspect the stand itself. 

The square box was carved around the bottom edges with buttercup blossoms and had paintings across all four sides, depicting the childish, storybook version of Jaskier approaching the Fae in the woods, his two nights of dancing and singing, his transformation, and, as they came around to the front panel at last, his imprisonment. The doll on top of the stand was Jaskier; or it had been, once upon a time.  

The bard looked only slightly different in his current accursed form, but it was enough to unnerve the usually stoic Witcher. The blue of Jaskier’s eyes was misty and glazed over. Glass, Geralt realized. He suppressed a horrified shudder at the thought. His eyes look like they’re made of glass. His skin was pale and when Geralt reached out to caress his arm (bent stiffly at the elbow much like a jointed doll’s would be) it felt waxy and too-smooth. Inhuman. 

Jaskier’s body was bent slightly forward at the waist, both arms resting oddly at his sides with the elbows bent at ninety degrees. Two circles of rouge brightened his cheeks and his eyes had been lightly lined to make them seem wider and more doll-like. A wreath of colorful flowers had been pinned into his hair and the blue silk doublet Geralt had last seen the bard wearing was nowhere to be found. 

The Fae had clearly taken their time with dressing and decorating him. His waist was cinched into a colorful corset-style vest that tied up the front with little blue silk bows and his legs were outfitted in tight-fitting, navy blue breeches that buckled just below the knee. His hose was off-white and complimented the shapely curve of his calves and ankles. He was wearing the buckled, heeled shoes of a nobleman and they shone with polish. There was nothing holding Jaskier up, which meant that the curse itself was keeping him upright and in place. 

The Witcher turned to glare at the alderman, his emotions finally boiling over at the sight of his bard’s transformation. “Did the Fae tell anyone how to break the curse?”

“We think the answer is in the song.”

“The song?”

“When you wind the lad up he sings a little song. He’s standing on a music box, after all.”

“Hmm.”

The alderman approached the side of the box and wound the large key jutting out, twisting until he was red faced and the bronze-painted peg would turn no more. He released the key and stepped back to join Geralt and the innkeeper where they stood with their backs against the far wall.

A few soft, tinkling metallic notes played through the room before the doll came to life. Jaskier’s back straightened and his arms reached out towards his audience in jerky little movements. Every time one of his joints extended or shifted there was a loud wrenching sound as the inner workings of the music box manipulated his limbs in time to the melody. 

Jaskier’s bright, lilting tenor flowed forth as he danced mechanically atop his pedestal. He turned in a slow circle, his arms reaching up and around as if seeking an embrace as he sang: 

“What do you see,

You people gazing at me?

You see a doll on a music box

That's wound by a key.

“How can you tell

I'm under a spell?

I'm waiting for love's first kiss!”

Geralt blushed as the doll-Jaskier reached directly out towards the space where the Witcher happened to be standing, almost as if he was reaching out for the true love he sought to break his spell. Geralt’s eyes met briefly with the wax figurine’s and he felt his heart skip a beat. Jaskier is so close and yet he still doesn’t see me. The Witcher gave a heavy sigh and shook his head as the bard continued his automatonlike performance. 

“You cannot see...

How much I long to be free,

Turning around on this music box

That's wound by a key!

“Yearning, yearning

While I'm turning around and around…”

The tune faded away into nothing again and Jaskier fell silent. His torso drooped forward. His hair fell into his eyes and Geralt reached out to move it away without thinking, letting his fingers brush the bard’s painted cheek as he pulled back. “So do you know anyone who could possibly free him? He only has a few days left.”

“What?!” Geralt snapped. He spun to face the innkeep with a thunderous look on his face. “What do you mean!?”

“The curse has to be broken before the end of the month or he’ll be stuck like this forever.”

“Fuck. Why didn’t you tell me that first?” the Witcher snarled. He gazed hopelessly at his friend and clenched his fists at his sides. 

It was so much easier to kill monsters. It was so much easier to break curses when they were placed on princesses or nobles or foolish peasants who had meddled where they shouldn’t. But Jaskier had been doing a good deed without being prompted and he had done it all alone without Geralt there for backup or protection. The stupid bard had rescued an entire village’s children by offering himself to the fae and now… now…

Geralt sighed and shook his head. He needed to think. He needed to breathe.

“I’m going to contact some friends and see what we can do,” he finally said. “But first I need rest. May I return to my room at the inn?”

“Aye. Good luck, Witcher.”

“Hmm.”

---

Geralt tossed and turned, unable to sleep. 

Two glassy blue eyes kept following his every move, searching for him in the dark. 

He knew he had to rescue Jaskier, the only problem was finding someone who loved him enough to break the curse. The Witcher rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling. Dawn was only a few hours away and he’d failed to get any sleep or meditate deeply enough to rest. He kept hearing those words, high and breathy, echoing through his head over and over:

“You cannot see...

How much I long to be free,

Turning around on this music box

That's wound by a key!”

The thought of anyone else kissing Jaskier sent a tight, angry buzzing sensation flickering beneath his skin. He bristled. He frowned. He… He was jealous. The moment Geralt tried to picture Essi Daven or Priscilla or that one foolish Count with ashy-blonde hair and broad shoulders he’d caught the bard with late one night even coming close to kissing Jaskier, the Witcher felt the urge to growl and bare his teeth. He wanted to curl around the music box and snarl at anyone who came too close for his liking. He wanted to wrap Jaskier in his arms and keep him there forever, where he could hear the bard’s heartbeat and feel his warmth.

An unnerving thought.

He’d always been a very possessive lover. 

Fuck.

But what if he tried to kiss the bard and the spell didn’t break? Then he might lose Jaskier regardless of whether or not he woke up. If Jaskier’s curse dissipated at the hands of another and he knew that Geralt had kissed him, had acknowledged his love for the bard and faced it head on and failed, then the Witcher might break down forever. Without Jaskier, what reason was there to return to the inn or the campfire at night? Of course there was Roach, but once she died he didn’t have to seek out another…

He could just disappear like many of his Witcher brethren often did. 

Geralt groaned and rose to his feet, slipping on his boots and cloak as quietly as possible. He crept through the sleepy town under the blanket of night and snapped the lock off the alderman’s back window. He gripped the lower sill and took a deep, steadying breath before heaving it open.

He had to try, at least.

He had to know.

The Witcher climbed silently into the storage room and walked in a slow circle around the music box. Jaskier was standing perfectly still, the painted smile on his face and the silk flowers in his hair looking as brilliant as ever, even in the darkness. Geralt stood in front of his cursed friend and sighed quietly. 

“I wish you didn’t have to find out just how much I care about you like this, Jaskier. I wish I could have told you about my rather prominent and passionate feelings before any of this nonsense had happened. If I fail you now, if you don’t wake up because this love is one-sided, I’m sorry. I want you to know that I’m so incredibly sorry for not being able to love you enough to save your life.”

With his soul bared and his confession carefully whispered into wooden ears, Geralt reached up and placed his palm against the bard’s waxy cheek. He had to stand on tiptoe in order to reach Jaskier’s mouth with his own and the position made him feel strangely vulnerable. He tried not to think about it as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the smooth, painted wooden mouth of the music box doll that had once been his most faithful friend.

He pulled away after a lingering moment of contact, shaking his white hair out of his eyes. A few terrifying seconds ticked past and nothing happened. The Witcher was about to cry out in frustration and disappear out the window again when he heard a shallow breath being drawn. His worried amber gaze snapped up and met, for the first time in far too long, a pair of bright blue irises that flashed with recognition and confusion. 

Geralt held out his arms and caught the bard just as he went limp, his body exhausted from being held upright for so many days on end. He felt like a pile of crumpled laundry in the Witcher’s arms, all deadweight and no control over his limbs at all. “Are you alright, Jaskier?”

“Hnn.”

He was still waking up from the spell and likely had no memory of what had happened. Geralt bit back the pang of bitter disappointment that threatened to echo through his heart; he had no real claim over Jaskier and it wasn’t fair to make one now. Not if the bard didn’t remember his declaration.

“Let’s… Let’s get you back to the inn and get you taken care of, Jaskier. I can tell the others about the broken curse in the morning.”

“Do you mean it?” Jaskier rasped. His head lolled against Geralt’s shoulder and he glanced up with tired but frightened eyes, “Do you really love me?”

“Hmm. Yes.”

“Good,” the bard managed to shift closer despite his full-body exhaustion. “I love you, too.”

“No more running off and trying to save people by yourself.”

“Well you aren’t always around to help, Geralt, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’ll be around from now on,” the Witcher asserted. He pressed another quick kiss to the bard’s lips and watched as Jaskier blushed and stuttered in his firm bridal carry. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

---

“Geralt please stop humming that song.”

“I can’t help it! It’s so catchy, it just keeps getting stuck in my head. Will you sing it for me? Maybe that will help.”

“Fine,” the bard muttered, settling down next to the fire with his lute. “Just once.”

“Thank you.”

Geralt sank into his meditative kneel and closed his eyes. A smile played at the corner of his lips and Jaskier pretended not to see it.

“What do you see,

You people gazing at me?

You see a doll on a music box

That’s wound by a key.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Questionnaire

Thank you @1000generations and @rosella-writes for the tags! I love things such as this that allow me to flesh out Fane more! :D

I’ll tag: @oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @varric-tethras-editor @noire-pandora @blueheaded and anyone else that’d like to give it a go! :3

----

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fane Lavellan/Aterian (The second name is one he’s rarely called until later on. Mainly post-Trespasser by those in his contingent of agents.)

Role in story: The Inquisitor (highly derogatory)

Physical description: Short, messy snow white hair and eyes that hold two colors instead of one (emerald and gold). Bears the vallaslin of Sylaise (full-face). Relatively angular face and holds features that are more indicative to ancient elves than the ones of today. Overall height is 6′1 and is far more muscular in build than other elves, but still slender enough that he isn’t mistaken for a Qunari. Entire body is littered with patch-work scars and has a singular, long scar upon his left cheek (inflicted by Solas) 

Age: Appears 24 (approximately 5,000 years old in actuality)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INTP-T (Logician). Fane is very much like me in the fact that he’s extremely analytical. He’s always questioning and trying to piece together ‘why’ or ‘how’. Sadly, social skills are lacking for him, and he comes across as proud or insensitive due to how he words things or his lack of understanding when it regards to why someone might be put off by his views.

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear? 

To be forgotten/Himself

Inner motivation: 

Rebirth. Fane wants to see the world restored to what he remembers (i.e. before the Veil was erected), and he wishes for his kin to thrive once more, to belong to no master but themselves. The birth of Yune (the last of Fane’s specific kin) awakens the ideal of ‘hope’ in his heart and allows him to believe that what he strives for is possible.

Kryptonite: 

Pride and Wrath. Fane has a volatile temper that tends to get him into trouble, on and off the battlefield. He is prone to bouts of proud behavior due to the fact that he’s lived for so long and believes he knows what the ‘absolute’ in the world is. 

What is their misbelief about the world? 

That everything terrible that has happened to him or that he has done thus far since awakening/being awakened is his fault, his choice. At the beginning of my story and in regards to the world as a whole, Fane believes he knows exactly how each person is (personality, motivations, ideals, etc.), even though he has no idea who he is.

Lesson they need to learn: 

That his existence is not a sin. That whoever or whatever he is doesn’t matter. He’s alive and he is loved, he is important. Labels do not need to define him.

What is the best thing in their life? 

Family (Solas, Mhairi, Cyfrin, Yune, etc.)

What is the worst thing in their life? 

That he had to betray family to support family. Fane will do whatever it takes to ensure Solas is never alone again and that his kin can be remembered for what they truly are, but in order to do that he has to make decisions, choices and those decisions carry a lot of pain and heart break. He’ll endure, however. He’ll always endure.

What do they most often look down on people for? 

Ignorance and faith. The faith aspect is mainly people wholly relying on that which they can’t see rather than the strength and independent thought that they possess. Fane despises those who use faith as a tool to manipulate or those who are willfully blind to the cries of the world and the suffering.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Primarily, Solas awakens the hidden or muted sides of Fane. Solas represents ‘the sky’ to him, and just a glimpses into the other’s eyes can make Fane feel as if he’s able to fly again. Having someone understand and know him for more than his rage and bluntness also makes Fane feel more alive when he’s used to feeling grey. 

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? 

Intimacy of presence. Fane feels most loved when those he cares for is content to merely be around him, words or no words. Solas is the one that does this the most often, the two of them having had to use this level of communication in the past due to Fane being a dragon unable to talk or link up mentally with anyone other than spirits. However, Cole, Mhairi and Cyfrin also utilize this means of communication. Solas is merely the one that offers it the most. 

Top three things they value most in life? 

Devotion, Independent thought, and Support.

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why? 

A crimson sash adorned with golden embroidery of halla and leafless trees. It was a gift from Mhairi, and it was given to Fane shortly after their father disappeared and the experiments upon his body ceased. Fane wears it either around his waist or as a scarf. He’s usually not one to accept gifts, family or not, but he kept this one because it offered a lot of comfort where it had been lacking for several years. Fane also adores his sister with all his heart, and to see that she chanced potential capture to gather the materials...how could he spit in the face of such love? He couldn’t, and that’s why he keeps it even Post-Trespasser. He rarely wears it as he used to during that time, but he keeps it safe and pulls it out when he’s alone to remember simpler days.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

Fane gravitates towards clothing that’s loose and practical. He refuses to wear any of the clothing that Josephine or Vivienne might choose for him. To start, Fane wraps his entire upper body in Elvhen wraps to cover the myriad of scars that litter his body. The wraps are usually dark brown, dark green, or black. Next, he opts for cotton tunics, short sleeved or long sleeves, but he’ll have tendency to roll them up to his elbow, and once again, they are either dark or neutral colors (black, grey, etc.). Plain trousers, somewhat form fitting, and most importantly; boots. Fane does not go barefoot unless he’s getting ready for bed or bathing. He also wears a small dagger that he keeps strapped to an upper thigh. Just in case. *winks*

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

Fae (generally by Cyfrin or Mhairi), ma’isenatha (’my dragon’ and is typically used by Solas), Blackened One (this is the translation of Fane’s ‘second’ name and is used both respectfully/derogatory), He Who Flew Above (used by the Elvhen agents in both Fane and Solas’ respective contingents), White One (Abelas generally refers to Fane as this once he drops the Inquisitor title, Wisdom also calls Fane this), vhenan or ma vhenan.

And last, but definitely not least, ‘Papae’ *whistles innocently* :3 

What is their method of manipulation?

Fane has draconic abilities that can warp emotions. In a way, he implements a form of psychological warfare, but he only uses it as a last resort whether the enemy is a piece of absolute trash or not. Fane has had his mind broken multiple times, died from it once even, and unless given no other choice, he will not break another like that.

Describe their daily routine. 

Fane wakes up at the crack of dawn. He doesn’t like to, but he usually has no control over it due to years upon years of waking up from nightmares and retching. If he manages to awaken without many issues, Fane strides right into his routine of training, with or without eating. Training helps quell his mind of lingering terrors, and establishes discipline to emotions that are volatile. Afterwards, Fane may eat on his own, but generally, Mhairi, Cyfrin or Solas have to acquire something for him and press him to eat. He always relents, even if he glowers and growls. Cole takes a more subtle approach and just leaves it where Fane can easily smell it, awakening the want. 

Mid-day Fane is usually doing his rounds, checking on companions, maybe entertaining a conversation or request, or begrudgingly diving into Inquisition business. (paperwork, letters, etc.) If he’s having a rough day, headaches, mental exhaustion, or physical pain, then Fane is less likely to get much done and that’s because Solas will demand that he take it easy. In those cases, Fane will fight and protest and declare that he’s fine, but a single look that says, ‘Enough’, and he crumbles, taking the offering of a pillowed lap and potentially sleeping for at least half the afternoon. When he wakes up, Fane lingers in the rotunda and with attempt some form of work until evening.

That’s when Fane indulges in more personal pursuits. He whittles wood, reads and writes poetry, tinkers with one of his gauntlets or plating, and lets himself want. He’ll sometimes go to the tavern to see Varric or the Chargers, even if being around Bull makes him a tad uneasy. Or he’ll seek out his sister and see if she wishes to do something with him. Fane doesn’t ask, of course, but that’s because Mhairi bombards him the moment he appears and he accepts and agrees without fuss. Sometimes Fane will visit Leliana in the rookery and go over what she’s heard or what he’s hear, or he’ll spend time with Cole until Solas comes to see where he’s gone off to.

Their go-to cure for a bad day? 

Usually, training or just outright destroying something. Fane has issues controlling some of his emotions, rage most of all, and the only way to get that specific emotion out is to physically take it out. Solas and Mhairi have attempted to help Fane diffuse in different ways, but the only one that seems to work the best is for a dragon to rampage. Thankfully, Fane retreats from Skyhold if that he feels his mind blackening. Solas or Cole will follow and keep an eye on him from a distance, but Solas will intervene if he feels Fane is close to spiraling beyond anger. Then, the go-to is words, soft, but firm.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life? 

Fane’s life Pre-Inquisition and within Inquisition is...rough. Life with the clan was torture for him, literally being called a mistake and monster due to how he acted and how he looked. No one understood why and neither did Fane beyond knowing his father’s abuse had...awoken something in him. That lack of understanding infuriated Fane, to the point where he chose to just...ignore it, turn his back. Add that to the burden placed upon his shoulders unwillingly, and once again being labeled as every manner of being except what would make him feel complete...yeah, Fane was highly dissatisfied with his life. It isn’t until he and Solas reconcile and vow to never be apart again that Fane starts to find purpose and the will to try in his life. That satisfaction only grows Pre-Trespasser once Fane uncovers a lot of answers concerning himself and his kin after going on a little field trip to a place that shall not be name while Solas attends to the Qunari.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Simply put? Fane wants Solas to be able to rest. That would bring Fane so much joy, to see his sky finally throw down the mantle and rest. All he wants is for them both to be able to be together and not have the world demanding their lives on a silver platter every second of every hour.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality? 

Support. That is one of Fane’s guiding principles when it comes to Solas and what the mage has deemed he has to do. Fane helps to keep Solas on the path, but he knows when to step in if the fog rolls in. Fane doesn’t see right or wrong; he sees paths, choices. He supports what Solas wishes to do because he understands why the man feels the way that he does. Fane is Devotion and Tenacity, and he will die again and again and again before leaving Solas to walk this dark path alone, without support. Because that, all on its own, can change a person’s mind.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already? 

Fane is only fearful that his support could be causing Solas grief, making him upset due to the fact that the mage feels as if Fane should condemn him. However, Fane presses on and doesn’t let fear shackle him in this. Fear is potent in Fane, that’s the truth, but it all washes away when Solas requires him. Devotion is stronger than Fear, Tenacity grinds Terror into dust, and a dragon will always guard the sky it calls home. 

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of? 

So, Fane’s main fears are being forgotten and himself. The supporting aspect is to combat the being forgotten aspect, partially, but when in regards to himself... That’s a whole other story. Fane grapples with madness coutnless times in my story and the allure of power, something dragons cannot yearn for lest they cause irreversible harm to the world, and he is fearful that eventually...the clock will strike, the hourglass will run out and that he didn’t do enough. For Solas, for his kin, and for the world. Furthermore, Fane is terrified that that madness will eventually harm those he cares for, those he’s vowed to protect and support. So, Fane does whatever he can to keep his spirit from warping, to keep himself from breaking beyond what can be repaired, and having Yune and Solas, and seeing the progress of their endeavors helps keep Fane on the cliff he teeters on.

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 11-13

Ch 8 - 10 here. Ch 14 here.

Chapter 11: morning, her place

Eris jumped out of sleep the next morning, waking suddenly to the pressure of someone attempting to break down his wards. His body tensed immediately, an instinctual growl rising in his throat at the perceived threat. His mind reacted a moment later, recognizing the scent currently trying to break down the front door.

“RHIANNON HARMONY OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” Interesting. Eris had made it this far without ever asking Rhia for her last name.

He waved a hand, removing the additional wards he had placed on the house last night. Grabbing his tunic from the chair and throwing it over his head, Eris strode downstairs just in time to watch Sofine burst into the front room.

She gave him such a ferocious glare that he froze in place without meaning to. “I suppose you’re the reason Rhia left town mysteriously for two days?”

“I, uh, yes.” Eris really wasn’t used to anyone scolding him. “Rhia helped me out with a...situation at the palace. Coffee?”

He vaguely remembered Rhia owed him a thought from last night. All this relaxation and peace had done some damage on his sharp, cunning mind.

Sofine’s eyes widened momentarily. Whether she was surprised at the gesture or suddenly remembering who she was scolding, her tone calmed considerably. “She keeps the beans above the stove, if you didn’t know.”

Eris nodded, accepting the small olive branch she offered. He lit the front burner with a flick of his pointer finger while filling the kettle under the tap with a flex of his other hand. The movements came quickly, naturally, and some of the tension left his body at the small expulsions of magic.

Quick footsteps skittered to a stop at the bottom of the stairs as the love of his life took in the scene in front of her. Shit. Eris’ thoughts had become pathetic and obsessive without his permission. He would have scowled if the sight of Rhia treading into the kitchen nervously hadn’t been so damn endearing.

“Shit, Sofi, I’m sorry.” Rhia embraced her friend tightly. “I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly; you must have been so worried.”

Sofine laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh I was very calm. Other than yelling at the High Lord first thing this morning.”

“I’m sure he deserved it,” Rhia hummed. She then made her way towards Eris, who finished steeping the beans at exactly the right second, handing her a steaming cup of coffee as she reached him. “What did you do?”

“Other than drag you into my mess?” Eris inquired, repressing the bolt of guilt that shot through him at the idea of Rhia in danger at the palace. “I placed additional wards up last night.” He looked over her head at Sofine. “I’ll make sure to include you in them next time.”

Rhia raised an eyebrow. “Who gave you permission to place them in the first place?”

Eris noted her light tone and twinkling eyes. “You tried to break into the most heavily guarded building in the Autumn Court yesterday and branded yourself as an enemy to the crown. What if someone tries to arrest you for that again?”

“Rhia,” Sofine gasped. “You tried to break into the palace?” Swiveling her glare to Eris, she demanded: “Why didn’t you let her in?”

At least she was scolding them both now. Eris held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t know she was there!”

“And I didn’t try to break in, I actually did break in,” Rhia grumbled. “You should really upgrade the security on the eastern external wall.”

Sofine huffed. “Will you both disagree on every little detail? I want the full story.” She sat herself down at the kitchen table, making a big show of getting comfortably situated. “I have time.”

Eris sensed that now would be a lovely time to retreat and leave Rhia to her own devices. “I have to return to the palace and the horrors of bureaucracy.” He leaned forward, giving Rhia half a second to adjust to his closeness, before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Her mouth upturned into a small smile, one he wished he could spend hours exploring. “I’ll come back when I can, good?”

“Very good,” she replied. “I expect a full report of our Court’s political situation when you return.”

Eris sighed dramatically. “If you insist.” He waved to Sofine. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed in my abilities after hearing the full story.”

“To be determined.” Her face flushed lightly, a female still unused to the High Lord’s presence, but he only felt gratitude at her attempts to treat him as normal as possible.

Eris blinked and appeared in his chambers, taking a minute to change his clothing and wash his face. He uttered some choice words at the pile of paperwork littering his desk, rifling through the to-do lists, save-the-dates, business contracts, and personal correspondences to see if any of it required his immediate attention.

One of his spies, Jyn, had sent him a list of potential candidates to fill the vacant adviser roles that Eris skimmed quickly. He had a half-baked plan forming in his mind to let people vote on the Fae listed on the sheet, maybe even ensuring that each region had specific representation. Gerwin had helped him draft a few new pieces of legislation that Eris would announce during the Autumnal Equinox ball, so one more shouldn’t cause any additional havoc.

“Fuck,” Eris swore again, remembering that his Court’s largest annual celebration was only a fortnight away and he had no idea what the hell was going on with the event.

He already wanted to check on his mother and Liang would know the most about the upcoming celebrations. Two birds, one awkward acknowledgement that they shared a bedroom.

Eris walked down the corridor, stopping to chat with one of the servants to make sure everyone on staff last night had received additional pay for working through an attempted coup. The slender male named Yuri had confirmed that the throne room was completely cleaned of any body parts and that to his knowledge, everyone had gotten the money before heading home.

The Lady of the Autumn Court lived in a different wing of the palace than her husband and sons had, a different wing than where Eris now lived basically alone. As he approached the white double doors, he ignored the urge to open the door automatically and knocked instead.

“Yes?” His mother’s tone was curious and wary, until she laid eyes on him. “Oh, darling! Come in, come in.”

Eris followed her inside, observing how much lighter and joyful she seemed in the glow of day. Her decorations had always used softer colors and more patterns than typical Autumn design; even the gold that adorned the soft blue curtains looked brighter than the gold that detailed his traditional red decor.

“How are you?” he inquired. “Did the healers take a look at you last night?”

She herded him over to the seating area. “Yes, and you have nothing to worry about. I wasn’t harmed by the Night Court.” Eris let out a deep exhale. He hadn’t known how to delicately ask what she’d experienced in captivity, and her warm gaze confirmed that she hadn’t been tortured. “I might not be feared or even respected by the other Courts, but Keir knows exactly who my allies are. And who my family is.”

“If Rhysand hadn’t finally taken care of the trash ruining his terrority, there would have been a list of us ready to kill Keir for him,” Liang grumbled, joining them from the bedroom. “Eris.”

He returned her nod. “Thank you for insisting on the healers.” Eris turned his body to face her more directly. “I actually had a question for you, as well. The Autumnal Ball is supposed to be in two weeks and I--”

“Hadn’t planned anything for it?” Liang teased. “Not to worry. The High Lord typically shows little to no interest in the event planning.” Her words had a bitter edge to them, and Eris knew he wasn’t the High Lord she spoke of. “I can send details to your rooms later today for your approval.”

Eris held his hands up. “I trust your judgement much more than my own. I would be interested in seeing the plans, though, just for my own knowledge.”

“Of course. I’ll at least want your opinion on the guest list, make sure I didn't’ miss anyone important.” Liang sat next to his mother, who raised an eyebrow.

“Is there anyone she wouldn’t have thought to invite, darling?” she asked innocently. “Do you have any new friends we don’t know about?”

Her words made him feel like an adolescent. “You know I don’t have friends. But I might send invitations to the other High Lords; see if they’d like to send a delegation.”

“Just let me or my assistant know if anyone needs to be seated separately to avoid a fight,” Liang offered. “We have over a thousand guests confirmed, so a few more won’t require much adjustment.”

Eris’ eyes bulged out of his head. “A thousand? Where did you find that many fucking people?”

“Language,” his mother admonished. “And we’ve always had a large attendance, though never quite this large.” She grinned at him. “I believe the host might be a bit more popular this year than in previous years.”

He fell into his thoughts as the two females ordered tea and went through some of the other details with him over the next hour. The annual ball was one of the only events that sent out a certain number of tickets to each regional capital, instead of inviting specific Fae individually. During Beron’s reign, only the required attendees who sat in governing roles showed up, but almost all of the optional invitations had been reserved this year with family members, friends, and colleagues. Eris hoped that meant his Court felt more comfortable with him than his father, and not that they all wanted a front-row seat to his inevitable failure or demise.

Liang sent him off with a few blank invitations, spelled to deliver themselves immediately after being addressed. He stopped by his rooms and scrawled out all the High Lords’ names, except for the Night Court’s which he addressed to Carina. She probably wouldn’t throw his letter directly in the fire. He also added a personal note, letting her know that he still owed her a very fancy dress for her help in finding his mother, offering to send his best tailor her measurements if she wanted to call in that deal.

Either through a simple mistake or a stroke of ingenuity, Liang had handed him 7 invitations, leaving Eris an extra blank one. Inspiration hit him like a brick. Rhia.

Would she want to come? See him in his role? Watch the entire fucking island scrutinize him? Normally, Eris would have let his thoughts swirl in a self-deprecating river until he’d talked himself out of the idea. He chose to stop himself this time, however, and practice healthy communication by just asking her.

Would they be able to hide their bond at such a large event? Any daemati would know, if they didn’t maintain their mental shields perfectly the entire time. The thought of hiding his feelings for Rhia, avoiding her gaze and looking at anyone else when perfection was right in front of him, drew a low growl from his lips. For her safety, though, he would do anything. Even if acting like he didn’t care felt so uniquely miserable.

Carina’s response drew him out of his thoughts. Cauldron, he was getting irrationally dismal in his old age. Maybe that was a side effect of patricide.

He snorted internally at the bleak joke.

Of course I’ll be there, idiot. Bryce is coming too. Something about how I never have any regard for my own safety blah blah blah. I’ve attached detailed instructions for your tailor, and I’ll be bringing a backup gown in case it’s not up to my standard. I have a reputation to uphold.

Eris let relief wash over him that he’d have at least one ally present. At the mention of Carina’s mate, he considered asking her for help with the whole mess of emotions that he went through daily. At the very least, she was one of the very few people in Prythian who understood the dangers of power, the sharpness of panic that came with putting loved ones in danger from enemies that normally wouldn’t spare them a second glance.

Hours of meetings and too many decisions stood between Eris and sitting in his favorite chair in a too-small kitchen. He gave himself one minute to hope that the violent chapters of his life had closed permanently, gave himself one minute to dream of what happiness and peace might actually look like, before re-entering his role as High Lord.

Chapter 12: spent their whole lives trying to put it into words

One small TW for abuse (past, nothing graphic). I've put the usually XXX before and after, but as always please let me know if I can make these warnings better and if you want a summary of that section.

“Hold that position. Yes! Exactly like that!” Rhia gasped. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement

Her student’s tiny arms began to tremble slightly at the exertion. Aliar’s face remained focused, however, as he used his leg muscles to push the wave of water higher and higher, until it touched the ceiling.

He dropped it suddenly. “Was that good?”

Rhia grinned. “That was wonderful . Did you see how much higher you raised it using your entire body instead of just your arms?”

He nodded quickly, a slow smile building on his face. Much quieter than the other two students he trained with, Aliar’s smile was equivalent to jumping with joy.

“Go grab some water, then you all can stretch and go home.” Rhia herded the trio of younglings toward the counter dividing the studio and her kitchen, where she always laid out a pitcher and cups. Raquel immediately stole Aliar’s attention, bestowing compliments and advice all in the same breath, at a speed too fast for anyone to follow along. They had a few more weeks before they would master water, all three of them did, but had made good progress nonetheless.

Rhia shuffled past Leyora carefully, from where the female had begun stretching in the most inconvenient spot, towards the dining room table. She eyed the blank parchment sitting there. The memory of the last time she had been waiting for a message from Eris while teaching this same trio hurt to recall, but she shook off any negative thoughts. Today had been good, her sleep undisturbed and her breathing easy.

It’s only been a day, she chided herself mentally. Give him time to respond, you needy wench.

“What is that?” Raquel demanded. Rhia barely stopped herself from jumping at their voice and shoved her hand away from the parchment. “Are you being sneaky with something?”

“What?” Rhia replied. “I’m an adult. I don’t have to sneak anything.”

Leyora raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like something a sneaky person would say.” Alair humphed in agreement.

“You’re all menaces. Raquel, finish your water.” Children could be eerily perceptive when they wanted to, usually when adults didn’t want them to.

As they grabbed their coats and ambled out, weather already turning gloomy before the Solstice, Rhia watched them go with a strange bittersweet feeling. Would she continue teaching if she became Lady--

Shit. That was not a road she had ever gone down and certainly didn’t need to go down. As if she would ever officially court Eris, nonetheless marry him when they hadn’t done anything more than kissing yet. When they still hadn’t talked through their pasts, their hopes, their darknesses.

Still, the thought lingered.

Rhia busied herself with making dinner as the sun set, drawing graceful golden designs on the walls. She sensed Sofine coming up to her door, grabbing two wine glasses as the Fae burst into the room.

“You read my mind,” she purred. Her gaze turned flirtatious as she noticed the wine Rhia had selected. “Feeling fancy tonight, are we? Expecting special guests?”

Rhia clicked her tongue. “You’re special enough for a nice bottle of wine. Sit, sit.”

Telling Sofi the full story, including how the mating bond had shared the agony of Eris’ stab wound, hadn’t been fun. Rhia had let her friend scold her, had let Sofi get out all of the frustration and worry she felt. Of course they both hoped that being Eris’ mate wouldn’t put Rhia in harm again, but the ordeal had created an entirely new set of anxieties.

So tonight, they stuck to pleasant topics. Rhia’s students, Sofine’s attempts to make a new kind of bread (Rhia secretly wondered how one could create a new kind of bread, but didn’t question it). The roasted vegetables turned out perfectly, a lucky feat when one’s best friend could cook better than anyone for miles.

And of course, the parchment glowed at exactly the wrong moment when Rhia had turned her back to bring the dishes to the sink. She heard Sofi’s gasp and whipped her head around, groaning when she saw her reading whatever message Eris had just sent.

“I’m a bit scandalized.” Sofi winked. “Is he always this dirty?”

Rhia gaped. “What the fuck? Give me that!” She moved at the speed of light, snatching the paper.

May I stop by tonight?

“Ugh, you’re such a bitch,” Rhia grumbled.

Sofine shrugged. “You should’ve seen your face. Maybe you wanted it to be a dirty message.”

That was the problem. Rhia would have loved a dirty message. Or she would have run screaming for the hills and never spoken to anyone ever again. It was a toss up.

“Do you mind if he crashes our plans?” she asked, stopping her perilous thoughts once more. Eris had never looked at her that way, at least not that she had noticed.

Sofi waved her glass of wine like a queen would her scepter. “Please. We hang out every other night. The male presence spices up the evening.”

If you don’t mind Sofi and I after two glasses of wine, Rhia wrote back.

Excellent. Shall I bring something from the royal cellar or do you have more than enough alcohol?

Oh definitely bring something. A fruity red, if you really want to win her over.

She couldn’t have counted to thirty in the time it took for Eris to appear in the kitchen.

“How did you possibly grab wine and winnow here that quickly?” Rhia demanded.

Eris shrugged. “I’m incredible like that.”

“Or he was sitting in the wine cellar, waiting to drown his sorrows if you said no,” Sofine piped up. Her cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I’m still not sure if I’m allowed to treat you normally and such.”

“Please,” Eris smiled. “Put me through all the shit you would normally put a male through.” With a mischievous look at Rhia, he added: “And feel free to tell me about those males while you’re at it.”

Rhia snatched the bottle from him. “Absolutely not.” She checked the label. “Cauldron damn me, this is 600 years old! Wait -- Eris, when exactly were you born?”

“I will not be age-shamed after procuring some of the finest wine in Autumn tonight,” he growled. “You know damn well how old I am.”

Sofine sighed. “I hope I’m not that grumpy in four hundred years.” She raised her now-empty glass up to Rhia, who gladly filled it.

---

Eris flicked his wrist and pulled out a glass for himself, then threw his body into the unoccupied chair. He let out a mock sigh at the females’ teasing, hiding his genuine joy at the playful conversation and quick remarks that flew across the room.

XXX

“I’m never throwing myself a birthday party again,” he insisted. “It’s just depressing at this point. I would’ve stopped throwing them years ago, if we hadn’t been...required to.” Eris trailed off. He’d almost shared the darling fact that Beron had forced all of his sons to host birthday galas, as an excuse to demand gifts and promises from various lords and nobility. Beron also loved nothing more than to use the annual occurrence as an excuse to run through the boys’ failures that year. The harsh words stung, but the sharp blows that followed drew a special kind of agony.

XXX

Rhia’s brow furrowed slightly at his sudden change in tone. “I throw too many birthdays for my students anyway.” He appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood, and appreciated the warmth of her hand on his that followed.

“That reminds me.” Eris squeezed her hand quickly, the other darting into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you. Both of you.” Inspiration struck as he handed the ball invitation to Rhia.

Her eyes danced across the sturdy parchment. “The Autumn Solstice Ball? In two weeks?”

Sofine jumped up. “What? Give me that!” She squealed as she read what Rhia had just spoken. “By the Mother, Eris!! Oh, you are such an improvement on anyone Rhia’s brought home.”

“Sofi’s always wanted to attend a ball,” Rhia shared. Eris tried to judge her expression, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“And you? Would you be interested in attending?” he probed. “I, I know it might be complicated for you to attend with the whole...situation.” He gestured between the two of them. “We can do this any way you’d like.”

Rhia worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want to, I really do.” Eris had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her forehead until the skin relaxed. “I’m worried people will know, but I’m also exhausted already at the thought of hiding it all night, but I know it’d be strange for you to pop up with a mate randomly, and I--”

“I have an idea,” Sofine interrupted. Her eyes narrowed as her brain doubtlessly worked out some scheme that Eris would either detest or fancy. “It would save you both some trouble. You wouldn’t have to hide your feelings, but you wouldn’t have to come up with a backstory about how you met.”

Oh, Eris would definitely love or hate this.

Sofine took a sip of her wine. “Spit it out, you dramatic tart,” Rhia complained after a moment.

“Write your own fairytale.” Sofi let a smirk play on her lips. “Pretend like you’ve never met, as if Rhia and I just received the invitations through some mistake or some administrative process. And then at the ball, poof! The bond.”

Eris let her words run through his mind once, twice. “You think we should act like the bond clicked into place...at the ball?”

Shrugging, she defended her plan. “I can’t say whether or not you both want to bring your relationship into the public domain, but it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Eris would have snorted at the dreamy look in her eyes if he hadn’t gotten the same look whenever he thought about a future with Rhia. “The new High Lord...hosting an extravagant ball...seeing the most beautiful woman grace his presence...falling love with her-”

“Cauldron, Sofi, are you a writer now?” Rhia stopped her friend from writing an entire novel aloud. Her gaze darted to Eris. “It feels a bit over-the-top, though.”

“I hate to even say this, because you know it isn’t a priority for me, but Gerwin would murder me if I didn’t consider how good of a public relations boost this could be.” Eris winced. It felt unbelievably shallow and inconsiderate to worry about his reputation while discussing his most intimate relationship.

Luckily, Rhia waved off his concerns with a hand on his arm. “Well maybe that’s something I care about.” She turned to her friend. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”

“I’ll give you all night,” Sofi smirked. “Take all the time you need to...talk. Bye!”

Her joke left them both groaning. However, Eris did take advantage of Sofi’s absence to pull Rhia away from the table and towards the much comfier couch across the room. She sat facing him, tucking her legs underneath her as she always did.

“Can I?” Eris stretched out his arm. Rhia gave him the softest smile and nodded, pulling herself closer until they were properly cuddled up next to each other.

“We obviously don’t have to this,” Eris began. “There’s ten other ways you could attend, not attend, whatever you want.”

She scrunched up her face. “Don’t ever repeat this, especially not to Sofi, but I’m completely in love with the idea,’ Rhia confessed. “It’s so silly, I know, but it feels nice to create some fake story. We could keep everything else private.”

Eris loved the idea for entirely different reasons, pretty much of all of them that he would get to dance with the most delightful Fae in this world in front of everyone without having to explain himself to anyone. However, he could work with this.

“So then? Should we do this?”

Rhia rolled her eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m signing my life away to some top-secret mission? Yes, let’s do it.”

He stayed over again that night, except this time they stayed awake talking until an obscene hour. Eris fell asleep with images of their future lulling him into peace.

Chapter 13: your eyes whispered (have we met) take 2

Eris threw himself on his bed, letting out a dramatic sigh that no one could hear. It had been a week and a half of pure stress that saw every kind of crisis, from interviewing potential advisers that ended up having criminal backgrounds to finding out the ballroom floor had somehow deteriorated and needed a fix immediately. Now, the day before the Solstice, Eris found himself wishing Auster had succeeded in his coup, if only for the fact that dealing with these logistics seemed a fitting punishment for treason.

His thoughts, as always, drifted to Rhia. They’d only had a couple nights together since, and Eris had to run back to the palace both times after a couple hours. The last interruption came at a particularly inopportune moment, right as he finished telling her the story of his darkest moment.

“Fuck,” Eris swore. Gerwin’s note made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he had to come deal with a fight that broke out between some of his people. “I--”

“Go deal with it,” Rhia commanded, her voice unnaturally calm.

Eris let out a loose breath. He had literally just told her about Mor, about leaving a dying woman alone in the woods rather than offer her any aid because she had dared defy their fathers. “I don’t want to leave like this.”

Rhia hadn’t dropped her gaze at any point during the conversation and held his stare even now. “Are you worried that you’ve upset me beyond reproach? That this conversation is my breaking point?”

“Maybe.” He broke first, using the excuse of throwing on his coat to look away. “It’s what isolated the Autumn and Night Court permanently; why the precious Inner Circle will never tolerate me beyond my usefulness as an ally.”

Rhia snorted. “If we had more time, I’d spend all of it convincing you that this most certainly is not my breaking point. But we don’t.” She moved closer into his personal space. “So go deal with your drama and I’ll prove to you that the bridge between us is unbreakable another time.”

She always complained about his cheesy one-liners, but that sentence had carried him through the entire evening and subsequent morning. It wasn’t until that night, until he lay in his bed alone, that doubt began creeping in.

Eris’s mind raged a violent battle. The logical, rational part of him argued that Rhia had insisted they were fine, insisted she wasn’t upset at him. The dark, twisted part of him sneered at that optimism, insisted that she would never look at him again. Why would she, after hearing about his tragic engagement? After all, Rhia looked up to the Inner Circle as if they were deities, the same people who declared Eris a mortal enemy.

Sleep finally stole him from his painful journey through his memories, but his dreams offered little comfort. They swept him from memories of kisses and laughter to visions of tragedy and heartbreak at terrifying speeds.

---

Rhia finished her cup of tea. Sofi stood in front of her, buzzing with excitement, as they both eyed the sheer bags in front of them.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Sofi declared, throwing her hands up in an overly dramatic gesture. “I’m opening them.”

She untied the lovely ribbon keeping their gowns wrapped in the protective shields before Rhia could protest. “Oh my goodness, Rhia, look .”

“Treya outdid herself,” Rhia agreed. One of her student’s guardians had offered to make them dresses for the Ball for a heavily discounted price, claiming that she had overstocked on specialty fabrics that weren’t selling.

She ran a hand softly over the gold silk. It felt luxurious, obscenely so, and Rhia found herself questioning if she deserved this. Not just the dress, but the entire situation. After so many years stuck in one place, doing one job, with basically one friend, the thought of changing her life overnight seemed beyond daunting. For Eris, though, she would try to step out of her comfort zone.

If only I could step far enough out of my comfort zone to jump his bones, Rhia thought to herself, half-humorously and half-miserable.

Sofi played with the straps of her sparkling red gown. “Where did you go just now?”

“Just wondering how the hell I got here,” Rhia answered. They played this game whenever either drifted too far into their own heads, a way to mindfully reenter the present. “It’s like a fantasy, isn’t it? Finding true love and prince overnight.”

Her tone must have struck bitter, because Sofi stopped admiring the fabric and looked her dead in the eye. “What are you worried about? That you don’t deserve this?”

“Yes, but it’s not...” Rhia fiddled with her gown once more. “We’ve talked a lot about what our life after tonight will look like, and it’s not like we’re about to get married or anything, but is it strange that I wish we were further along in our relationship? How can we just declare ourselves to the entire damn continent at this point?”

Sofi raised an eyebrow. “I would say this is a completely normal stage to tell your circle of people about a relationship. Eris’ circle just happens to include the general public.” She refilled her own mug, then froze. “When you say further along, you don’t mean sex, do you?”

“And what if I do?” Rhia challenged. Her cheeks flushed a bit. It’s not as if Sofi hadn’t seen her at her worst moments and through every failed relationship since, but this admission felt more embarrassing, for some reason. “I’m about to meet his mother and we’ve barely felt each other up.”

One beat of silence, then:

“I’m sorry,” Sofi cackled. “What is your logic here?” Her laughter grew as Rhia frowned, making her words difficult to decipher. “‘Hey Eris! I know everything’s just peachy emotionally, but I can’t go public with you until we’ve fucked!’ Rhia, you’re smarter than this.”

Rhia was smarter than this. “It sounds worse when you say it like that! I just...I’ve never waited this long before and it feels like I’m failing somehow.”

Sofi stopped giggling. “Hey,” she said softly. “You can’t compare relationships, or males, or even yourself in different situations. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” Rhia agreed. She took a deep breath, letting her thoughts settle. “I am, and you’re right.” Saying it out loud had helped calm the tornado of insecurities, helped her realize the fallacy of her worries. “Honestly, I think it’s a good sign we both overthink every tiny thing. As if we’re both terrified to damage what we have.”

Her friend clicked her tongue. “As long as that overthinking doesn’t create any damages itself.”

---

Eris was definitely overthinking their plan. Rhia had written him a short note about an hour ago, letting him know that her gown was perfect and she couldn’t wait. Somehow, her simple positivity had sent Eris into a swirl of anxiety that led him to interrogate Liang about every last logistical element.

“You’re hovering,” she snapped, as he followed her down the hallway. “Why are you asking me about the greeting line? You’ve done it a hundred times.”

Eris usually found her temper refreshing. Not today, though. “Yes, but we don’t normally greet everyone. How long will I be in line?”

Liang gave him a bemused look. “I don’t know, thirty minutes? How chatty do you plan to be? And it’s only for the appointed representatives from each village, like every single other time.” She turned sharply, narrowly avoiding a group of Fae carrying large trays of food to the main hall.

“Don’t follow me,” she called out, not bothering to turn her head to look back at her High Lord. Eris stopped walking, but still heard her mumble several profanities under her breath.

He ran a hand through his hair. Somehow, he had to conclude official introductions and make it into the main party before Rhia showed up, so their “first-glance” would seem authentic, without offending any local politicians by cutting their discussions short. If dinner began too soon, they’d have to wait for dancing, but would it even make sense to lock eyes after two hours at the Ball?

“Pull yourself together,” he mumbled to himself. Eris hated feeling out of control, but he simply couldn’t force a thousand people to move exactly how he wanted.

The plan stressed him out immensely, yet would provide political protection for their relationship. Technically, the law required Eris to disclose any “personal liaisons” to the palace staff and advisers, for security reasons and to allow advisers to approve any potential marriages. He obviously hadn’t done that under Beron to protect his lovers, and really didn’t want anyone saying a damn thing about his future spouse. Luckily, Prythian held mating bonds in the highest regard, and no one would dare say shit about him and Rhia, especially if the bond seemed to appear at an auspicious time of year.

“Talking to yourself now? I heard that’s a sign of mental exhaustion.” Eris turned to face his brother. “Why aren’t you up in your chambers getting pampered and prepared?” Lucien asked.

“I’m going there now,” Eris grumbled. “I was checking on any last minute issues.”

Lucien placed a hand on his shoulder. “How dedicated. Funny story, though, I had only just stepped into the entrance hall when Mother accosted me and demanded I send you back to your chambers.” He let out a small chuckle. “I believe the words ‘nuisance’ and ‘in the way’ were used.”

“It’s my party. I think I’m allowed to help out-”

“You don’t give a shit about event planning,” Lucien interrupted. “Go do your hair and make yourself pretty for your...special guest.”

Eris started. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his brother about Rhia. “What are you talking about?”

Lucien stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. The prick had spent way too much time in the Night Court. “Only that Carina seemed a little too excited for you. Anyways.”

Eris watched him walk away. Of course she had blabbed to his brother, probably immediately after Eris had confided in her last week. She was dogmatically good at keeping secrets when necessary, but notoriously good at gossiping about personal matters.

Still, he winnowed to his chambers and started a bath. His hair did look a bit a shabby, now that Lucien mentioned it.

----

The trees lining the cobblestone path twinkled with golden light, leading the way to the palace. Rhia and Sofi did their best not to gape at the scenery, at everything from the decorations to the masses of people. While they both had visited cities before Amarantha’s reign, the influx of sounds and sights overwhelmed their small-town sensibilities.

Rhia craned her neck to observe the massive double doors that were flung open to allow entrance. “Do they truly leave the doors open all night? Seems dangerous with all these crowds.”

“The only Fae who might break in has an invitation tonight,” Sofi snorted. She nodded at the thick parchment in Rhia’s hand. “Don’t even think about scaling the west wall.”

“East wall,” Rhia corrected automatically. Her heart had begun to race as they neared the doors, the entrance hall now visible over the other guests’ heads. The guards worked efficiently, splitting the crowd into three lines to check their invitations and scan for weapons.

The duo exchanged no further words until they reached the checkpoint. The guard let them through with no hassle, and Rhia let out a small breath. She didn’t expect to be denied entry or thrown in a prison cell, but her last encounter with palace guards had tainted her memory. Hopefully none of the members on staff tonight had arrested her previously.

“He certainly has taste, you think?” Sofi commented as they swept down the spacious hallway. Rhia nodded, enjoying the bright colors of the Autumn Court represented on ornate curtains, plush carpet, and detailed murals. On another occasion, she might have taken her time to admire the artwork like the other guests, but Rhia dragged Sofi quickly through them, with only one beautiful thing on her mind.

An extremely tall Fae stood at the end of the hall, in front of another set of large doors. Unfortunately, these were closed shut.

Rhia frowned at the sight. “Did we have the time wrong?”

“Oh, they just have to finish up the greeting line.” Rhia and Sofi jumped at the sudden comment. “They should open them shortly.”

Rhia grinned when she recognized the Fae next to her. “Gerwin! What are you doing out here with the rabble?” She placed a hand on Sofi’s wrist. “This is my dearest friend, Sofi. Sofi, this is Eris’ weapon master and all-around savior, Gerwin.”

He bowed slightly. “May I get that glowing compliment in writing? Pleased to meet you.”

Sofi laughed. “Likewise. I always think it’s good to know someone who knows where all the weapons are, in case of emergency.”

“The doors are now open,” droned the lanky Fae. Indeed, they swung open slowly behind him, revealing orchestral music and overlapping conversation. Gerwin shot them a quick wink and entered first, careful to act like a friendly stranger rather than an insider on the biggest secret of the year.

“Are you ready?” Sofi whispered under her breath. She slid her hand into Rhia’s, giving it a quick squeeze. “Last chance to run for the hills.”

Rhia scoffed. “Keep walking.” She forced her breath to come out evenly, slowly, hoping her body wouldn’t betray her by fainting before she even saw him.

The lights seemed even brighter, the music swelling to unprecedented volume, as she took those final steps into the ballroom, her eyes darting across all the irrelevant people and things. She only wanted to look at one person, only wanted to think of one thing tonight.

And then her eyes met his.

---

“Do you think you’ll make a trip to the Southern cities this winter? I spoke with the company maintaining your Milton estate, and it couldn’t be in better condition.” The dark-skinned representative beamed.

Eris attempted to return his enthusiasm. “Possibly. There’s still quite a bit of work to do around here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, my Lord. Have a wonderful evening.” As the Fae moved towards the dance floor, Eris dared to look back at the closed doors behind him. The official representatives had been let in forty minutes ago, and finally, he could see the end of the greeting line. If he could get through the next two conversations without screaming in frustration, he’d treat himself to the largest drink he could physically hold. Unless she arrived before he made it to the bar, then he’d settle on treating himself with a dance with the love of his life.

“The doors are now open.” The doormale’s voice sent a shot of adrenaline through Eris’ blood, grabbing his attention from the last group of dignitaries from the Dawn Court. His mother’s smile tightened, but her face remained diplomatic as she took over the greeting from her distracted son.

Eris strode away from the politicians and foreigners, away from his role as High Lord. As he walked, his prior thoughts and insecurities rose like a cloud of poison, choking him with doubt. This was the last time he could dream about what would happen when they saw each other’s faces again, the last time he could wonder if she’d come to brighten up his dull palatial life. The last time he could hate himself for offering her a choice to stand by him publicly, as if that wouldn’t put her in danger of scorn and harm.

Eris could barely breathe as he approached the edge of the dance floor. The string octet transitioned to louder music, meant to pull the crowds to their feet and into the arms of a partner. The first line of general guests darted in, chatting excitedly about the extravagance and the notable Fae already in the room.

He truly did stop breathing the moment he saw the tail of a silk golden gown. His eyes raked up the flowing skirt, small sections twisted into rose-like shapes until they reached the tight bodice. Then, his eyes devoured the low neckline and bare shoulders, stopping to note the one sleeve slipping down a smooth, brown arm, mocking the hand he wished to brush down that same arm.

Finally, after several seconds or an eternity, his eyes locked in on the most beautiful face he would ever see. Eris prayed to the Mother that he wouldn’t slip out of consciousness in that moment, when he looked his unbelievably perfect mate in the eye.

Rhia offered him the smallest smile, her hands rising to sit delicately at her stomach. She took a step towards him and--

Eris held back a snarl when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gerwin mumbled an apology.

“You were standing so still that even I believe this was the moment the bond clicked in,” the weapons master remarked. “I think about half the room has noticed so far.”

“Good.” Eris turned back towards her, towards the angel he would never deserve. And yet, his doubts had completely vanished in her presence, leaving behind only the desire to hold her immediately. “I want them all to see this.”

With a final grin to his best friend, Eris walked across the floor. Fae jumped out of his way, and the gossip increased by a tenfold at his determined pace.

Sofi stood proudly next to her, failing to hold back her grin. She leaned over to whisper something in Rhia’s ear that Eris barely managed to catch. “I think you’ve caught someone’s attention.”

He was now close enough to inhale her scent. Cauldron, he must look like a besotted fool. Luckily, that was his role to play.

“My Lord.” Sofi bowed. Eris shot her a glance that might have appeared disdained to onlookers. She pursed her lips to hold back laughter.

“Have we met?” Eris asked. His tone came off light, casual, hiding the turmoil of love and desire flooding him. “You are absolutely enchanting.”

Rhia blushed and he almost gave in, almost kissed that blush right off her cheeks. “I haven’t had the honor, my Lord.”

“Eris,” he breathed. “To you, always Eris.”

“Rhiannon,” she countered. “Rhia, if you’d like.”

He held out a hand. “Will you do me the honor?”

She took it, and the warmth of her skin blazed across his body. Eris led them out to the dance floor, which had emptied in his journey across it.

The musicians changed their tune mid-note, slowing the tune down until a sweet, romantic song claimed the room. A few cautious couples stepped out from the edges of the crowd, but most of the room stood completely still and held their breaths, straining to figure out who had stolen their High Lord so abruptly.

Eris pulled Rhia close with one hand on her waist, keeping the touch gentle for her comfort. Their intertwined hands rose as their feet moved.

“Why aren’t they dancing?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Eris urged. “It’s an old Court tradition, letting the highest ranking nobles have the first dance. They’ll join soon.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

He smiled at the question. She was still playing the game. “You must know that you’re the most flawless person in this room. I was wonderstruck.”

That beautiful blush appeared again. “I’ll guess you didn’t pass any mirrors on the way down here, then. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” The hand on his shoulder flexed as Rhia dared to let one finger brush his neck. He shivered.

“Please tell me you felt it too.” Eris’ instincts kept them from crashing into other dancers, since his eyes couldn’t be bothered to leave her face. “Tell me I’m not alone here.”

Passerbyers heard that one. His words spread across the crowd, the gossip faster than his flames ever could.

“Everything vanished when I saw your face,” Rhia replied. Her tone softened, her head tilted. “Yes, I felt it.” She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You’ll never be alone again, my love.” The words were murmured too softly for anyone else, an admission that was for him alone.

Gerwin would never let him forget it if he cried in front of everyone, so Eris swallowed back the rage of emotions in his throat. “Thank the Cauldron. Literally, since you’re my-”

A roar of thunder shattered the room, followed by a flash of darkness right in the center of the floor, several feet from where they stood. Some guests screamed, and the guards surged, but Eris merely sighed and held up a hand.

The night black vanished, leaving behind an unfairly attractive couple. The female waved to the crowd, flipping a lock of her raven hair over her shoulder. Her partner stood impassively next to her, his Illyrian wings marking him as obviously other.

Eris inclined his head. “Thank you for coming, Carina.”

[gothighunicorntolerance]

Fields of Gold- A Deal

AO3 link

Roman stood at the edge of the woods, watching a dark haired mortal girl sulk with a small bouquet of flowers in her hand. Just moments before, she had seemingly been working up the courage to talk to another mortal boy, yet she now sat on the steps leading to what Roman assumed to be her house, her head between her knees and the hood of her cloak pulled over her head to guard against the chilly air.

Roman watched as the mortal girl threw the bouquet beside herself and began to pick at a loose thread on her sleeve. As sunset turned into night, and the other mortals left for their own homes, the dark haired girl with the sad bouquet stayed sitting, head between her knees and hair in her face. 

Seeing his chance, Roman glanced around to make sure there were no spectators before stepping out of the woods, double checking that his disguise was in place. He immediately felt the headache that came with being farther from the woods as he walked down the cobblestone path to where the girl sat. She would likely fulfill Roman’s needs, and if she didn’t, he could simply wipe her memory and find another that would. 

Reciting the script in his head, Roman walked up to the girl and cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me? What’s your name?”

The girl looked up and hesitated for a moment before replying, “You can call me V.”

“Well, V, I have a proposition for you.”

She eyed him suspiciously, and Roman couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t everyday that a stranger came up to you with the intent of making a deal. 

“And what would that be?” She asked, not taking her eyes off him. 

“Well,” Roman paused for drastic effect. “I need you to marry me.”

There was a beat of silence in which he could see the disbelief in V’s eyes. Then, she did something Roman didn’t expect. She started laughing. 

“Me? Of all people, you walk up to me and ask me to marry you? Surely someone as haughty as yourself can find someone much nicer than me, both in looks and tone.”

Roman sighed. This was definitely not going the way he expected it to. He snapped his fingers and dropped his disguise of the son of a well-off lord or something to show his true form, deciding that it was time to be serious. 

The girl abruptly stopped laughing and gasped, open-mouthed at how Roman truly looked. 

She took in his pointed ears and long, pointed teeth, his flowing silky robes and red-and-gold insect-like wings on his back.

“You’re fae,” V said, matter-of-factly. 

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious. Yes, I am fae. I am Prince Roman of the Summer Court, and I have a problem that I would like your help to fix.”

“What could I,” V pointed at herself. “A mortal who isn’t even liked by other humans, do to help you,” she pointed at Roman. “An immortal magic faerie?” 

Roman noticed there wasn’t an insult laced with the description of him, likely because she knew what he was and what he could do. Luckily for her, though, doing something to her would mean that he would have to endure the teasing of the court and disappointed looks of his mother for far longer. 

“Well,” Roman began. “It’s a little complicated. Mind if I sit down?”

Not waiting for her answer, Roman sat next to her. 

“You see, I have to get married, and the thing is, that I don’t want to. I would much rather paint or sing than be expected to court a lady. No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” V grunted. 

“And so, I came up with a plan that I would get married for real but to someone who also didn’t particularly want to get married. This is where you come in. You seem like the kind of person who wants true love or what have you, so I’m going to make a deal. A geas, if you will.”

V sat up at Roman’s mention of a geas. It was a vow that came with magically bestowed gifts and could be given by a faerie to a human if the human agreed to the terms. 

“I will give you the freedom, once married, to sleep with or kiss whomever you would like, along with the thing you want most, be it riches or silks or immortality. Name what you want. The price is leaving this town and going through a marriage ceremony with me.”

V was silent for a minute, thinking, before finally responding. 

“What I want most and what you require I doubt can happen at the same time,” she said, deflating. 

Roman puzzled over her words. What could she possibly want that would make them unable to marry? The only conclusion that Roman could come to was death, but if that was it, there were many ways Roman could think of that she could have attained it already. 

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Roman replied. 

“I want to be a boy.”

“What- oh! Oh, I see-“

“Sorry to crush your dreams or whatever-

“No, no! This is even better!” It was Roman’s turn to laugh at the absurdity of it all. What were the chances of him coming across someone who was so perfect for the job?

“What- what do you mean?” V asked tentatively. 

“I like boys, and you want to be one! My mother expected me to get a wife, but I’ll explain the situation, and then poof! Both of our troubles will be gone!”

V sat in stunned silence. She- well, he, actually, seemed truly taken aback by Roman’s reaction. 

“So you- you can really turn me into a boy?” He asked, hopeful. 

“Of course! Stand up, and I’ll do the geas right now, as long as you’re willing to accept my terms.”

“So if I leave here and don’t come back and marry you but not really, I’ll get the body of a boy and the freedom to do whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want within the bounds of legality, yes, that’s exactly it.”

“Then let’s do it. Right now,” V stood. “The only thing is… I want to keep my body, but I also want you to make what’s already here more masculine. Do you know what I mean?”

“I understand. V, are you sure you’re ready? Because once you go through with this, there’s no going back,” Roman held out his hand.

V took a deep breath and took Roman’s. “I’m ready.”

“When I tell you to state your name, say the name you want. Your old name will be replaced by the one you say, so if you don’t know what you want to be called, I can wait for you…?”

“I told you, I’m ready. Let’s get on with it, Princey.”

“Alright, stormcloud.”

Roman closed his eyes and gripped V’s hand, and started to recite the words for the geas. 

“I, Prince Roman of the Summer Court, swear that I will give you your greatest desire and freedom to do as you please if you swear that you will go through a marriage ceremony with me. State you name, desire, and swear that you agree to my terms.”

Red mist-like tendrils of magic swirled around their hands, the first half of the binding oath. 

“I, Virgil Crowe, swear that I will agree to your terms. The thing I most desire is to become a boy. I will go through the marriage ceremony in exchange for that.” Purple tendrils of magic entwined with the red of Roman’s, swirling together to complete the oath. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, the colorful swirls dissipated. Roman and Virgil released their hands from each other. 

Virgil looked around and rubbed his hand, trying to get the feeling back. Who knew magic made you numb?

“That was- woah,” Virgil said, startled. His voice was so deep! “Hold on-”

He turned around and pulled the collar of his shirt down. 

“This- oh my god. Do you have a mirror or something?

Virgil ran a hand through his now-short hair, smiling. 

“This is… literally everything I’ve wanted. Thank you so much,” Virgil’s smile seemed to stretch ear to ear. 

“Well, Virgil, I’m glad I could do my part. But, ah, we still need to get married,” Roman replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right. When does that happen?”

Virgil’s indifference towards the prospect of marriage, while it was almost exactly what Roman wanted, was still a little odd. Who was so casual at agreeing to spend the rest of their life bound to someone they didn’t love, even if both agreed that there was nothing romantic between them? 

Nevertheless, Roman replied, “I’ll expect my mother and the rest of the Summer court will wish to see me court you, and the next full moon after that is when I expect the ceremony will happen. In the meantime, we will pretend to be in love with each other when there are other faeries around, but I expect nothing from you when we are alone.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to leave town now or…?”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your family? Pack anything?” Roman furrowed his eyebrow, quite frankly confused as to why Virgil was willing to leave so soon.

“Nope. My family doesn’t care about me, and I don’t have anything that I care about that I’m not already carrying.”

“Oh,” Roman replied, suddenly regretting asking. “Well, in that case, I guess we can leave now.”

“Great. So what, do you just… start walking into the woods? Are the magic horses? What happens?”

Roman chuckled. “We walk for a bit, and then I essentially take your hand and we walk through a tree.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“What, you make an oath, change your body, and agree to marry me, and it’s walking through a tree that surprises you?”

“Well when you put it that way… the answer is still yes. Getting married and walking through trees are two different things.”

“Fair enough. Shall we?” Roman asked, holding his arm out for Virgil.

“Let’s go walk through a tree, Princey.”

***

It was safe to say that being led through a portal in a tree was perhaps the strangest thing Virgil had done, except for maybe getting the body he had always wanted by promising to marry said man who took him through the portal. 

Stepping out of the hollowed-out tree, Virgil could immediately tell that this world, the realm of the fae, was different from his own, if even in the most subtle ways. The grass was a slightly different shade, the sun just a little too bright. The most unnerving, however, was the creatures who stared at him as he stepped into the thick grass with Roman, standing at the bottom of the hill in front of the largest building Virgil had ever seen. 

“Hail, Prince Roman. Is this who you are courting?” A faerie woman walked up to Roman and Virgil. Virgil could immediately tell that this was Roman’s mother- they had the same green eyes and tanned skin, and the same golden patches on their wings, not to mention that she carried herself with the grace and power of a queen. There was no doubt in Virgil’s mind that the golden-haired woman was the queen of the Summer Court. 

“Yes, mother. This is Virgil,” Roman replied with a bow.

“I must say I was expecting you to come back with a future wife, but no matter.”

She talked as if Virgil wasn’t present, the only indication that she knew he was there was a tilt of her head as she said ‘wife.’ Virgil cringed a bit at that word, but then remembered what Roman had told him. His old name would be forgotten and everyone would see him as he truly was- a boy. 

“A mortal boy?” Roman’s mother put her hand on Virgil’s face and brushed back his hair to show the rounded tips of his ears, not pointed like the ones of the faeries. She frowned, but continued. “I do hope that he has manners, at least?”

Realizing that she was finally talking to him, Virgil hastily replied. “Yes ma’am,” he attempted a bow, feeling somewhat foolish as he did so with his newly-short hair falling in his face. 

She ‘tsk’d’ at him before beckoning the two to follow her towards the crowd of Fair Folk that had gathered. 

“Folk of the Summer, I present to you my son and his future husband. Judge them as you will, but no harm shall befall either,” she raised her arms to gesture at Roman and Virgil, and a cheer went up from the hundred or so fae gathered. Virgil was about to give in and whisper to Roman that he couldn’t stand being felt like he was on display when the queen took them by the arms and led them into the large stone palace. 

Even there, Virgil wasn’t free from the stares of the fae. Most looked human, except for their pointed ears and sharper teeth. And, of course, the wings that sprouted from their backs. Some, like Roman and his mother, had butterfly-like wings, while others had the feathered wings of birds while still others had those of beetles, bats, moths,or dragonflies. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil spotted the faeries who shared little resemblance to humans scurrying around as servants. The servants bore no wings for the most part, and had fur or scales instead of flesh and stood at only about three feet tall. Virgil caught a glimpse of one with the square pupils and of a goat as they looked up at him. 

The world of the faeries was so different from his own, yet Virgil didn’t find himself afraid. Instead he was… hopeful? Was that the correct word? He thought that perhaps things would be different here- there would be no mocking glares or whispered insults (though sometimes the other kids in the village didn’t even have the kindness to whisper). It certainly seemed that it would be different with the faeries, if the reception he and Roman had when his mother introduced them. Instead of outraged cries or calls to stone them, there had instead been a few confused whispers but none had made the move to ostracize them- or worse. So yes, Virgil supposed that hopeful was the right word to use. 

The queen snapping her fingers to summon a servant also snapped Virgil out of his thoughts. He couldn’t help but stare at the one who came up to them- a short, fur-covered faerie, it’s hair a rainbow of colors.

“Take Roman and Virgil to their room,” the queen commanded. The servant bowed and beckoned the two to follow. 

Once out of earshot of his mother, Roman spoke up. “Virgil, this is Talyn. Talyn, this is Virgil. My mother doesn’t like me to acknowledge anyone ‘below my status,” he explained to Virgil using air quotes. “But I think it’s rude. Also, Talyn is very nice.”

Talyn smiled as they opened a door for Virgil and Roman. Inside was the largest bed Virgil had ever seen. Realizing what whoever must have decorated the room intended brought a flush of red to Virgil’s cheeks. 

“Call if you require anything,” Talyn left with a bow.

Roman nodded and entered the room. Virgil stood awkwardly near a table as Roman collapsed on the bed, his red and gold wings taking up nearly half of it. 

“Well, I didn’t expect the fact that there would only be one bed, but we can work something out, right Virge?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” 

Suddenly the consequences were thrown in his face. Granted, there were much worse consequences, but Virgil didn’t quite feel that sharing a bed with someone who was still almost a complete stranger could be classified as a good thing. 

Then Virgil realized that he didn’t have a change of clothes. All he had was what he was wearing. He voiced his concern to Roman, who stood up from the bed and replied, “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure my mother was planning on giving whoever I brought to marry an entirely new wardrobe anyways. The only thing you do need to worry about is what colors you like,” Roman chuckled. “She’ll want you to ‘fit in’ with the court, but they’re all painfully pretentious pompous partisans.”

“Wow, try saying that five times fast.” “Painfully pretentious pompous partisans! Painfully pretentious pompous partisans!” Roman said it only twice before he started laughing, Virgil joining him in a fit of giggles. 

Things wouldn’t be so bad with Roman if that was what he was like- Virgil could actually get used to living in the faerie realm, and maybe even get used to having to share a bed. 

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 5/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name.  Also on AO3 here

Loki’s scarlet eyes widened in shock and horror as he tried and failed to bring his Asgardian form back.  He hated seeing the sapphire skin and the markings on his body.  He hated the suddenly colder room.  He hated that he was a monster. 

He couldn’t don his illusions again, no matter how hard he tried, not while she held him in her control.  She was only exerting a tiny piece of her abilities, just a small piece of her control.  It was only a hint of what she could do with his truename.

   She saw his eyes widen when he realized how much control she had, and how much more control she could have if she so chose.  His expression still turned hard when he realized that he couldn’t bring his illusion back, his eyes panicked for a moment before they turned harsh and angry. “Sigyn, enough!” He snapped at her, snarling in rage at what she’d done.  He hated the proof that he was a monster and her cruelty in using it as her example.

Sig snapped her mouth shut and looked down, cringing from his anger.  She’d been expecting it, but still couldn’t help be frightened by the angry powerful male.  She’d had true horrors in her past and had a hard time getting past those.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, talking to her lap, refusing to look up at him.  “I release you,” she added, just to be safe after she’d released him from her power.  “Your illusion will be back in a minute…” she added softly and hated that she could hear the fear in her own voice. That meant he could hear it too. 

He turned away from her, turning his back to try to hide his true form until the illusion reappeared.  It was no use.  Though Sigyn hated that he seemed so ashamed of his beautiful sapphire skin and the raised runic markings, of his beautiful scarlet eyes.  

This was Loki just as much as his Asgardian illusion was.

“There’s no need to hide,” Sigyn told him just as softly, her voice gentle and loving.  She dared to look up at him while he focused on getting his illusion back. 

It took effort, but he finally managed to summon the illusion back, finally managed to look how he wanted to again.  He turned back to her as soon as he was looking Asgardian again.  He was still glaring and she shrank back from him. “There is a reason I hide behind illusions, Lady,” he told her firmly, anger in his voice and tone, snarling her title.  The way he said it, she knew that was all he was going to say on the matter.

She nodded and looked back down at her lap.  “Sorry,” she said again. She really hadn’t meant to upset him. “You needed to understand the power of names and this was the easiest way to show you…” her voice was soft and afraid.  And she hated how fearful her words were. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.  

He sighed and properly looked at her, past the haze of his anger.  He finally realized he didn’t want to lose his best friend again, especially when he’d just gotten her back again. He took a deep breath, another, before he spoke again. “It’s alright.  I was just surprised.  I did not expect anyone to be able to break my illusion…” he gave her an expectant look to explain herself.

Sig nodded and relaxed slightly, looking up at him again. “It’s part of the power of true-naming.  If a fae with sufficient power knows a being’s true name they can control at least aspects of that being, or completely control them.  Names are dangerous.  True-naming is a rare skill among the fae, so you don’t have to worry, I’m one of the very few who can do it, and none can do it like I can. But that is only a touch of what a fae can do with a being’s real name, ergo why real names aren’t used,” she explained, thoughh she wasn’t sure her explanation was clear.  She were still speaking softly, cautiously, bordering on afraid.  She may have known this man when they were both children, but that was centuries ago and she only barely remembered pieces of it. She really needed to take the time to undo the blocks on her memories. She just needed time to do so. 

Loki nodded along in understanding, figuring out what she meant from her explanation.  “Then I can live with a nickname. I actually like Lokes,” he gave her a reassuring smile. He may not have liked her method, but it had been effective in explaining what she’d meant quickly. 

“I can pick a different one if you’d like,” she offered immediately.  “I just needed one quickly for the outing. I know how it feels to be stuck with a term of address she don’t care for…”

Loki gave her a real smile and shook his head.  “Lokes is fine.  Like I said, I actually like it, especially coming from my old friend.  I’m just not used to having a…kind… nickname.  Thor’s moronic friends weren’t kind with their nicknames and Stark is… well Stark.”  Sig nodded her understanding. She’d gotten the impression already that Loki and Stark hated each other.  And that was enough to make her wary of Stark. “Is there anything else you wish to share?” Loki asked her gently, wanting more information, but not wanting to pressure her. 

 She hesitated, unsure what else he would want or need to know.  “Sorry, I’m not used to anyone taking an interest. Anything else you wanted to know in particular?” she asked in reply.  Fae secrets were secret for a reason, but she would be honest with Loki.

“How long have you been fae?” He asked and she saw the curiosity in his eyes.  He was always desperate to be able to find out answers to any mystery that he came across.  

Some things never changed.

Sigyn had to think that over.  “Well, I’m not entirely fae, but I’ve been like this,” she indicated her pointed ears, tri-colored eyes, and sidhe red hair “Since shortly after they took me.  500 or so years ago?  You seem to remember when that was better than I do at the moment…” When she’d been taken all those years ago, she’d still been a child. Maybe 6 or 7 by Midgardian reckoning of years.   And Loki was older than her by fifty years, she remembered.  She didn’t know how or why she remembered that random fact, but she knew it was true.   Aging among the Asgardians happened in spikes of aging followed by long plateaus. She’d been around 500 when she had been taken.

Loki nodded, thinking over her words.  “The whole kingdom was in an uproar when you vanished. Mother and the Allfather sent out the palace guards to search for you. They would have done it anyway, but it was even more urgent since you were so close to the princes, to me and Thor.  They searched for at least a decade with no leads. I’m so sorry, Sigyn…” he said softly, his eyes and and tone full of centuries of old sorrow.  Tears welled in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall.  

“They wanted you,” she told him softly, her eyes haunted with old memories “or Hammer-brain, but you were more fae like,”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That didn’t make any sense.  Though he was royalty, but that didn’t seem like enough of a reason to single him out. “Why me? What could I have possibly offered them?” He asked her, hoping she’d have more insight.  “I was only a child too…Yes, I was a prince, but that couldn’t have been enough of a reason…”

“An alliance between the fae and Asgard?” she suggested with a shrug.  “They didn’t tell me much of their dastardly plans. They were so angry when they realized I wasn’t a princess…” she told him, remembering their anger, their hate.  Those memories she hadn’t been able to block out.  She’d saved her family, but hadn’t been able to save herself her own pain. 

“You were basically royalty, just not officially. I doubt that Mother or the Allfather would have given into the fae even if they had taken me. Especially the Allfather,” she noted that he didn’t call Odin ‘father’ anymore and she wondered what happened to cause the rift. She’d missed a lot while she was gone. 

 “They didn’t think Hammer-brain would take to the magic or transition.  You and I, on the other hand, already had magic, since your mother was teaching us. Like I said, they didn’t exactly share their plans with me;  I’ve only put together a few bits and pieces over the years…” she explained as best she could.

He nodded, accepting her story.  It made sense that they wanted mages, which would make Thor useless for their plans. “I’ll have to let mother know. It could be important. Do you know why the fae wish for an alliance with Asgard?”

 “The Asgardians are one of the long-lived races.  And the seidr is compatible with fae magic.  The fae aren’t… dying out necessarily, but they aren’t having nearly enough children and the children they are having are with the Midgardians, since the Allfather won’t let them into his realm and it’s hard for them to get into the realms with the other long-lived races as well. The children with the Midgardians aren’t immortal and their magic is weak at best. They think the chances will be better to strengthen both the fae and the Asgardians with an alliance,” she spoke quickly, trying to get all the ideas she’d been able to gather out of her mouth in a coherent thought.  She wasn’t entirely convinced she was being coherent.

Somehow, Loki kept up, nodding along in understanding.  “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. It should not have.  I wish…I wish we had done a better job protecting you.  You were ours to defend, and we failed you,”

“Lokes, we were children!  It wasn’t you fault. We were just kids. And I’ve made it out of Underhill now…” she tried to reassure him.  All she wanted to do was cross the distance between them and pull him into a hug, but she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t appreciate it. 

“I know. I just wish I could have done more to help you. Or at least let them take me over you!  They should have taken me!” He sounded so frustrated and helpless and she knew he’d been chewing himself out over it for centuries.  He was a prince and a warrior.  It was his job to defend those in his care.

“No, Loki,” she had a slight hesitation over using his name, but customs were different here and she’d seen how he didn’t care for nicknames.  This conversation needed his real name.  “You would have fared worse there than I did, and I would not have wished that on anyone,”

“What exactly happened to you in Underhill?” His voice was full of heartbreak at her tone, her words, the past he was gleaning that she’d had.

“A lot of awful things. The fae are not kind to those who aren’t fae.  It’s only possible to gain power there by having powerful friends or being strong enough or beautiful enough to gain power other ways.  So even though I was part of the seelie court, it wasn’t safe. I told you that no one goes by their real names, everyone has monickers.  Mine was ‘mongrel’.  So believe me when I say that you would have fared worse, Prince,” she told him.  His title also counted as a nickname in her book and wouldn’t offend him.  She wasn’t saying it out of cruelty, but to emphasize the seriousness of the conversation.

His expression still looked haunted, but he nodded, forced to accept her words. “My brother and I, along with this team, will do all we can to keep you safe. You have my word, Sigyn,” he told her firmly. He sounded determined to keep her safe this time.  He wouldn’t lose his best friend again. 

Sigyn gave him a small, warm smile.  “I’m not exactly helpless,” she reminded him as her smile turned to a smirk that so very mirrored his usual one.

He grinned back at her, feeling like old times and familiar footing.  “I’m aware. You were trained by my mother. It would be an insult to her if I said she did not have the power to defend herself, or train others to do so,”

Sigyn giggled.  It was a sound she hadn’t heard herself make in centuries and was wonderful and melodic. Loki relaxed at the sight and sound of a happy Sigyn.  “And no one would dare insult Mama Frigga,” she agreed, her old form of address for the Queen of Asgard falling off her tongue automatically and it sounded perfect and like it was still correct.

His smile widened to a true smile, a smile she remembered on a much younger Loki.  “Very true,” he agreed warmly and she recognized the expression he wore when he thought of his beloved Mama.  “Very true indeed,”

[ficstoreadagain]

Prayer in hell, pt. 3 - back story-

Part one Part 2

When Sebastian first offered you the Phantomhive position, you were beginning a hunt. He met you in a back alley, where you were casting an incantation to burn the body of a lesser demon. You were a little beat up, but nothing terrible- but Sebastian always took the chance to tease. 

“My, my, if this little pest caused you so much trouble- perhaps I should find someone else?” He mused, running a hand through ebony locks. Your head popped up, taking one look at him before immediately pulling a demon knife out of your belt. “Not many of those left around- maybe you are worth your salt.”

“Firstly, this ‘pest’ didn’t do this to me- his boss, who keeps sending these little buggers did, and I’ll have you know-” You stopped yourself, realizing you were divulging more information than you needed to. “What do you want demon? Royal Prats like yourself don’t often grace us with your presence.” 

“Oh, little ole me? I’ve found a soul of interest, made a deal- fair and square- meaning you have no grounds for interference. But that’s not why I’m here, I’m here to offer you a job.” He explained, smirking that devilish smile at you. 

“A job, you think I’d work for you?” You laughed in his face, something not many dared to do- mortal or not. His eyebrows twitched in frustration, but he kept a cool demeanor. 

“My young master is in need of new household staff. And I find your hunting abilities... quite useful. Full pay and benefits, obviously.”  He explained further. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you poked your toe in the ash. 

“Even if I was willing to lower myself to work for a demon- I’m in the middle of something here. I can’t stop my case because you need help with laundry.”  You scoffed, shaking your head.

Sebastian sighed, annoyed that this was going to be more time consuming than he planned. Nevertheless, he could be patient. Besides, he already had the other three servants- he wasn’t in dire need of help. 

“Very well, I’ll be back soon- do try to take care of yourself.” He conceded, turning slowly away. But you were remarkably fast for a human, but not near as fast as him. He quickly caught your arm, that was raised to bring the demon knife down on him. He laughed softly at your attempt- but had to dodge again when you dropped the knife into your other hand. Taking a swipe at his abdomen as he dropped your wrist- without his restraint, you dropped to the ground to try to sweep his long legs out from under him. He wasn’t trying too terribly hard, but you were doing surprisingly well for a mortal. He predicted most of your moves, but then he went wrong- dodging just fast enough that the blade only scratched his cheek. He had to admit, the trinket stung and you were well skilled. But he couldn’t return to the young master in shreds, no that wouldn’t do. So he grabbed you by the wrist, twirling you into his chest. Once you were tucked into his larger form, back to his chest. Without hurting you, he squeezed you wrist until you dropped the knife- then he barred on strong arm across your chest and then one on your stomach. Effectively trapping you as you hurled curses at him. You heard his deep chuckle, felt it vibrate in his chest, but just as quickly he pushed you away from him.  

By the time you caught your footing, he was gone- watching you from the top of a building, out of your sight. Blood dripped down his cheek and his tongue was quick to lick it away- yes you would do nicely, for more than just a servant, no he’d keep an eye on you. You could develop into so much more. 

------

The next time Sebastian came to you was two months later, Ciel had been keeping him rather busy. You looked rather thin, as if you’d been skipping meals, you also had several more bruises- coloring you skin in blue, green, purple, and brown watercolor. Including the bruising around your right eye, you looked rather worse for wear. But above all, you looked tired. Sebastian had tracked you to a shoebox apartment, and with all the evidence pinned to the wall- he assumed you were still working the same case. 

But somehow you still had enough energy to attempt to shoot the butler as you declined his offer. He caught the bullet between his gloved fingers, and sighed “sadly” at your pathetic attempt.

“Fine then, I’ll return again. You didn’t pay me much mind last time, but once again, do try and take care of yourself.”

------

The next time he showed up to your doorstep, it was 10pm three weeks later. He had left the servants in charge of Ciel’s protection as the master slept- while he returned to London to collect you. This time he refused to take no for an answer- he was growing quickly frustrated with the spirits, fae, and minor demons that he had to chase off the scent of his master’s soul. A feast such as that was bound to attract beggars- and he was on a tight schedule as it was. 

When he approached your building, he looked up to your window and saw your shadow hurrying about. He mused aloud, “Well, she’s home, I’m making good time.” 

He curtly knocked on your door, but there was no answer. He knew you were home, so he waited a moment before raising his hand to knock again. Then his sharp hearing heard a window break, followed by two sets of landing feet. His eyebrows rose, listening intently as sounds of a fight broke out. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of demon-possessed humans. Low-caste demons, then. 

“I’ve put too much time and effort into this hunter to let her be killed like this.” He sighed, glaring at the closed door after checking his pocket watch. 

Then a different scent, and enticing scent, flooded his senses. Instincts took over, his ruby eyes and demonic aura flashed as he imprinted in on the scent of your blood wafting to him. As he thought, this was developing into something much much more. Only a moment had passed and you angered scream pierced through his trance. A sideways smile graced his features- and with not even a fraction of his strength the door was offit’s hinges. 

On the other side, you and your attackers froze to look at the intruder. You had been tackled to the ground by one attacker- a possessed man- and he held you there to him as the other attacker- a possessed woman- was perched on top of you, trying to claw at your face. A knife was sticking out of your shoulder but that didn’t stop you from grasping the woman's wrists to keep her nails away from your face. But in their distraction, you placed your feet against her stomach and used all your leg-strength to push her off of you. Then you brought down your elbow on the man’s ribs, loosening his grip on you enough that you could squirm away. You saw your opportunity and took it, and threw your body a few feet away and took ahold of your demon blade, in this time the female had regained her footing and was approaching you again. 

Sebastian enjoyed watching you fight now that you regained the upper hand (and now that you weren’t fighting him), and he had every intention to step in if you were in any serious danger. His eyes darkened with pleasure as you stabbed the demon blade into her chest, watching as her life force flickered out and demonic aura burned off. Yes, he had imprinted on a fine mate.

 Even Sebastian was distracted long enough to not notice the man had gotten up and grabbed you from behind. One arm wrapped around your throat and the other hand grabbed the knife still buried in your body. His movements were purposefully jagged as he carelessly ripped it out. For a split second, his demonic side relished in the delicious look of pain and fear on your face- but not for long, if anyone was to bring you fear- it would not be some two-bit lower class demon. No, not to his mate. 

In disdain, he produced a polished silver butter knife and effectively buried it in his skull with a slight flick of his wrist. This didn’t kill the pest, but did cause him to drop you to the floor where you gasped for air. But Sebastian didn’t reprieve, instead, he crossed the wreckage of the fight with supernatural grace. To your blurred vision, he looked like he was gliding across the room. He didn’t stop, even when his gloved hand grabbed the man by the throat holding him in front of him until he slammed the attacker against the wall. Leaning in close enough to whisper out of your earshot, “I would appreciate if you kept your filthy, unworthy hands off my mate.”

Even the white of his eyes flashed black as he fought against Sebastian’s superior strength. The more powerful demon quickly grew tired of this game, simply squeezing his glove hand until he felt a satisfying squelch, and the man’s head separated from his shoulders.  The scum demon possessing him quickly fled the scene, away from Sebastian’s cold, calculating eyes. 

A clatter brought his attention back to you. You were dragging yourself off the floor, propping yourself against a wooden table that was missing a leg. Sebastian watched curiously as you dipped a hand under your white-turned-red splattered blouse. Putting any amount of pressure onto the wound brought pain that clouded your vision and made your knees go weak. You barely caught yourself as you hissed in pain- now Sebastian shamelessly and hungrily watched this display. He also thought about how he should proceed. 

He very quickly accepted you as his mate, but he knew you wouldn’t be so fast to acceptance. If he told you now, you’d fight him on it forever- possibly even running from him. No, no, that wouldn’t do at all- he’d only just discovered you after all. So, he’d wait- he was patient, he could wait. For now, he’d resume the role of dutiful butler. 

“Miss (Y/L/N), if you will allow me, I can be of assistance.” The butler offered, watching as you struggled to stay upright while you watched the blood drip down your arm- from your wrist to your elbow. Your eyes were slightly glazed over as he edged closer to you, “(Y/N).”

You snapped back to reality, staggering away from him. Eyes zeroing in on him with a threatening glare as you mustered all your strength into growling, “Don’t touch me, demon!” 

Sebastian sighed disdainfully, “Honestly, how do you still have the energy to fight me? More of your blood is on the floor than in you. Besides, I’m only trying to help.” 

“And what’s the cost of your help- my soul? my firstborn?” You scoffed, words starting to run together as you leaned more and more of your weight onto the shoddy table. You smirked at your own joke, but still eyed the demon warily. 

“Only answers, now please let me assist you,” He said sternly before his voice turned mischevious, “If you won’t let me help you now, I’ll simply wait until you faint- unsupervised who knows what I could get up to?”

He flashed his glowing ruby eyes at you, causing you to wince. The movement was the straw that broke the camels back. As the three-legged table wobbled before it buckled, sending you tumbling to the ground. 

The world was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but Sebastian’s arms wrapped around you before hoisting you up like a bride. Though the room didn’t stop spinning, you opened your eyes as Sebastian sat you on the little cot in your back room. With you no longer a fall risk, he began rummaging through your drawers. 

Quietly, you muttered, “I don’t know what you're looking for, but I promise you it’s not with my knickers.” 

Sebastian feigned innocence, “My apologies, I hope I didn’t offend your delicate sensibilities.” 

You weakly growled curses at him until he continued, “I’m looking for your first  aid supplies.”

“Kitchen, by the window,” you informed, voice tired and strained. When he returned, you watched as he gracefully removed and folded his tailcoat, and then his gloves. Finally, as he approached you he rolled up his sleeves. On his left hand there was an intricate tattoo- his marker, you thought- and his nails with pitch black. 

You were astounded by how gentle the demon was as he helped you sit back up. The look he gave you, asking you for permission, and his hands waited at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, helping the best you could as he pulled the blood-soaked garment off, leaving you in trousers and a bra (rare in contrast to the popular corset- but so much more comfortable). Sebastian set to work, skilled hands diligently cleaning the wound. You kept you flinching to a minimum, instead, Sebastian handed you a folded up handkerchief to bite down on and you screwed your eyes shut. The demon took the opportunity to let his eyes wander as he began stitching,  taking in the many scars, new and old bruises. 

He wondered what creatures had caused all of them. He growled subtly, thinking of all the unworthy hands that had touched you as he tied off the stitches. Taking the cloth from your mouth, he pushed you back so you were laying down. 

“Now, who were those people? Or better yet what?” He asked, looking through the door at the bloody mess in the front room. You stared at him through tired eyes, “I told you my price was answers.”

You groaned, but realized it was the fastest way to get him out so you could rest, “Fine. I pissed off a crossroads demon by finding where he kept his written contracts, burned them in holy oil. Released thirty humans from contracts they didn’t know they were in.”

“Thirty souls is a lot for a hell broker- I can see why he’d be angry.” Sebastian nodded thoughtfully as he fixed his sleeves. 

“Exactly, now he won’t quit sending his lessers after me. So I was packing up to get to the states. Figured no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t go to that much trouble.”   You admitted, and Sebastian took in the information while sliding his arms through his coat sleeves. He pulled a fresh set of gloves out of his coat, and slid them over his long, elegant fingers. 

“I have a proposition for you. Come back to the manor with me, work for my young master, and in turn, you’ll have protection from this.” He offered, his mouth in that partly open smirk. When you didn’t answer, he shrugged, “From my experience, crossroads demon’s are the criminal ringleaders of hell. He’ll have a never ending amount of thugs to send after you. Possessed humans, bottom feeder demons, hell hounds... they’ll drag you to hell. But it’s your decision.”

You thought it over. Working for a demon made your stomach turn- especially one who was so powerful. But the hell broker after you wouldn’t stop until one of you was dead. Traveling to the countryside was much easier than traveling across the Atlantic. Plus, you could keep a closer eye on this demon. 

Hesitantly, you responded with a defeated nod. Completely fatigued, you sank further back onto the bed as the butler smiled in victory, “Perfect, we’ll leave soon as your things are packed and these bodies are dealt with.

“But for now,” Sebastian continued, in the most compelling voice, “you should sleep.” 

You didn’t know if it was blood loss, exhaustion, or demon trickery, but sleep sounded so amazing that you couldn’t help but fall into a deep sleep. With you recovering, Sebastian set out to the rest of the work. He started with the body, giving both the undertaker- trading five jokes to make it seem like a prostitute murder and a factory incident. Then he returned to make quick work of cleaning up blood splatter and broken furniture. Finally, he finished packing your things- clothes, weapons, vials of strange plants and dusts, books. Very quickly, you shoebox living quarters looked cleaner than it had been since you moved in.

He stopped to check the pocket watch: 1AM. He needed to begin breakfast at 5AM, and wake the young master at 6:30AM- it would take two hours to carry you back to the manor, longer if he carried luggage with him. And he’d have to prepare you a room, and then he’d need to change your bandages- and find you suitable clothing. So much to do, peaking into the back room- you were still sleeping soundly. He approached, gingerly checking you over for any other injuries.  He figured out you were a light sleeper, as you stirred at every light touch. But upon his examination, he only found a cracked rib, sprained ankle, and rather concerning tender bump on her head. Nothing fatal, but you would feel like rubbish for a week or two. 

“Well, what’s done is done.” He mused, slipping a clean blouse over your head, gingerly lacing your arms through and topping it with the overcoat he found on the coat rack by the door. Deciding you wouldn’t freeze on the journey, he easily scooped you up like he had done Ciel so many times. He decided he liked how you fit into his arms, chuckling when you stirred enough to try to squirm away. “Tt, Tt, Yes, I’ll be carrying you- getting to the manor by train would take hours and there’s still much to do.”

_____

Since that night three years prior, you had been at the Phantomhive manor. Ciel often called on you to review cases- and matters of personal business- for paranormal involvement. You also kept the manor warded against petty disturbances, keeping smaller nuisances out of Sebastian’s hair. Very rarely did you have to actually hunt anything more than wandering spirits and the weakest of demons. In turn, Sebastian kept his end of the bargain when attackers came for you- which only happened twice before they seemed to give up. So you stayed for three years- rarely straying from your save haven- until now. 

[cornerverse-fma]

Monster AU:

Since it’s Halloween, let’s post this son of a bitch that I’ve been holding onto for months!

So, basically, it’s ‘AU where most characters are some sort of Magic Creature’. Because fuck it, you know? The story itself is kinda canon-parallel, but I haven’t thought out everything.

Anyway, first I’m starting off with tidbits on various creatures and stuff instead of straight into the story!

Ed and Al, and Hohenheim – Dragon

Technically Ed and Al are half-Dragon/half-Human, but due to Human Adaptability, Monster/Human Hybrids come out full monster(Monster/Monster Hybrids are rare, but would have abilities from both).

Ed and Al are also bumped up in age, being 18-ish. (so are the rest of the teens but whatever)

First up is the Monster Lore:

Dragon Magic is remains dormant until Awakened(because would you trust the unbridled chaos of a toddler with the ability to set stuff on fire?). It’s designed to be Awakened by another Dragon(usually a parent/guardian) after hitting puberty-age. Ed manages to find a loophole in this.

Dragons have three forms. Full Dragon, Human Disguise, and ‘Midform’(Human with Draconic features like wings, horns, claws, tail, and some scale freckles). Most Dragons feel most comfortable in Midform. While the Midform is still Human-sized, the Full Dragon form gets bigger with age! Ed and Al are young so they’re about the size of a small horse, but Hohenheim is 450-ish and enormous.

While they have the standard Dragon abilities of flight and fire, they also have general spellcasting abilities. Speaking of, another Dragon Ability is to either resist/deflect Magic, or enhance it, depending on if they want it used on them or not. It can even work subconsciously. For example, Ed and Al trust Winry, so her using Magic on them will always work, but they will resist spells from random people. This is another thing that gets stronger with age, as Ed and Al only have high resistance, but it’s difficult to find a spell powerful enough to get through Hohenheim.

Dragon Hoards are also a thing, but not in the usual gold/jewels way. Think of the Unusual Dragon Hoards art. A Dragon picks an item and creates a collection. When the instinct first kicks in, the Dragon will gather up as many items as they can find and just pile it up somewhere and not let anyone in. It calms down after a day or two. Ed’s hoard is actually friends because he’s a dork like that, but it gets difficult when he suddenly has five people in a cuddle pile and gets Very Upset when they try to get up.

Dragon Magic is Unique in it’s Source. Most Magic has an external Source(Fey have Nature, Witches have Spells, Vampires use others’ blood, etc.) A Dragon’s source is their own Life Energy. Using Magic will use up their Life Energy, but it replenishes itself with time, rest, and food. Despite being tied to their Life Energy, it’s very difficult to die from overusing Magic, as the Dragon will likely pass out from exhaustion before it gets unstable.

Very long-lived, but not Immortal. They age at the same rate as Humans until their twenties, and then aging slows dramatically. For example, Hohenheim is 450-ish, but is equal to a 30-ish year old Human.

Also! Colors! The colors of a Dragon’s scales are not genetic. It’s determined by the emotions they feel when their powers are Awakened. Ed is red, a color of passion and love, Al is green for a sense of belonging, and Hohenheim is white for freedom. (Accent colors like on horns and claws and such are still their usual gold)

On to character-specific tidbits:

Ed and Al

A lot of their story mirrors Canon, in that Hohenheim left for reasons unknown, and Trisha ends up dying. They do kinda get on a ‘maybe we can cook up some necromancy?’ idea, but that’s shut down real quick.

Ed still loses his leg somehow, because that’s constant in all my Aus.

Instead of focusing on fixing their shit, the boys are instead trying to figure out what the hell they are. Because, like, no one really knew that Hohenheim was a Dragon. They knew he was more than just a Witch, but they didn’t know what he was. He did tell Trisha, but neither of them told the boys. And since Dragon Magic remains dormant until Awakened, they’ve experienced minimal side effects. None of which are common Monster traits.

So they’re studying different Monsters in a hope to figure out what they are. The plan if they run across Hohenheim is to ask what they are and also punch him(Ed says punch first then ask, Al says ask and maybe punch.)

This does lead them to working for Mustang.

Hohenheim

His story also probably mirrors Canon. I’m not entirely sure what all goes down or how Father functions in this AU(I think I’m doing the ‘evil twin’ thing again, in which case I’m making him a black dragon for contrast!).

Him leaving is definitely still connected to this, though when he’s not actively working on that he uses the whole ‘Dragons can negate most Magic and are rare enough that people don’t have special defenses for them’ thing to help people out. Especially Monsters that get kidnapped for various reasons.

Hohenheim is also less depressed in this AU! Like, obvs he still has some issues. But being 450 years old is a lot more common so he doesn’t have that Angst™ hanging over him. Nor does he have the Angst™ of said Immortality being gained through a bunch of murder, since it’s just his natural lifespan. So we get to see more of his not-depressed side.

Winry – Witch

Monster Lore is short this time. Witches in this Universe are highly debated about whether they are Monsters or not, as they are basically just ‘Humans with the ability to use Magic’. Different people have different opinions on it.

Winry(and her family) consider themselves more on the Monster side, doing doctor stuff for all sorts of creatures.

Of course Automail is still a thing, and of course the Rockbell family is well known for it. Specifically, they make Automail that also hooks into a Monster’s Magic, and will function as they do. For example, Ed’s still missing a leg in this AU. So when he switches between Human, Dragon, and Midform, he needs his leg to change too.

Ling, Greed, and Lust – Vampires.

So, a few character tidbits before the Monster Lore:

Ling:

Despite being a Vampire, he’s still the same age as Ed. He was only Turned a couple years ago. Reasons for that are… not fun. It involves an abusive ex, becoming friends with Greed and Lust to get out of that, and ends in a ‘only way to save his life is to make him a vampire’ situation.

Before that he was just a Witch. Kinda neutral on the ‘are Witches ‘Monster’ or ‘Human’?’ debate, but Monster-friendly.

Greed and Lust

Much like my Groupchat AU, the Sins Crew and Father are mostly not related except for these two, and the Sins did work for Father for a while but they’ve all kinda fucked off. (The Sins crew do mostly stay in contact though).

Used to be Human(maybe Witches?). They were from a noble family about 200 years ago. Greed was Turned thanks to political drama, and was kicked out of the family. Lust willingly went with him.

While they’re around 200, due to Vampires being a bit frozen in time, they’re only a little older than Ed and Ling.

They operate this Universe’s version of the Devil’s Nest, which is a Montser-friendly bar.

Some Vampire Lore applies, some doesn’t.

They don’t have to be ‘invited in’(But they typically stick to societal rules of ‘don’t break in like a jackass’)

Sunlight and Garlic sort of bother them, but not like in some lore. They’re designed to be nocturnal, so being out in the sun is like ‘wtf???’ to their senses. Same with Garlic, which can easily overload their sense of smell(but so can any strong smell)

They can be burned by silver

The no reflection/can’t be photographed thing is sort of true. Old mirrors and cameras used silver. Nowadays mirrors use cheap metals and photo/video is digital, so they show up.

Religious symbols are tricky. It depends on how much the Vampire and the person warding them off believe in said religion.

Vampires have an ‘Enthrall Enchantment’, but it’s not, like, straight up hypnotism. It just kinda makes the person they’re biting feel a bit good and fuzzy and not really in pain. It also helps heal the bite afterward. I’ll discuss this more later.

Vampires need blood, but it doesn’t have to be Human blood. It’s just safest because Monster Blood can have various side effects.

Werewolf blood causes an effect similar to alcohol.

Fae blood causes a different prank each time(minor stuff, like turning your hair purple for a week)

Blood from Monsters related to Religions(like Angels or Demons) are actually poisonous.

Dragon blood causes a large power boost.

This is the Loophole Ed found for Awakening Dragon Magic.

The blood they drink has to be relatively fresh. ‘Straight from the tap’ is best, a vial of blood is good for a few hours

There is the question of ‘do Vampires need blood to live?’.

Technically? They get very weak if they don’t, especially in the Magic Department. But they usually die from said weakness than outright ‘not getting blood’.  

Vampires are Immortal as long as they continue to drink blood. even to the point of self-healing if they have enough.

Technically, a Vampire doesn’t need to eat or sleep if they have a decent blood source. However, it is better for them if they do as they can last longer between ‘drinks’.

Much like the other side effects I listed before, different blood lasts longer. Dragon blood would last longer than Human blood, for example.

Mustang –  Faerie (Fire-based)

An odd choice for him, but I’m running with it!

Time for Monster Lore:

All Fae love legal loopholes and the bullshit technicalities.

Usually Faeries are somewhat allergic to metal(especially iron). Occasionally there are ones that have no issue it, but it’s super rare.

A Faerie’s Magic Source is some form of nature. Fire-based ones have the ability to sort of create their own source(they can magically light fire to become their source). Think how stuff works in ATLA. Water users need a body of liquid, earth users need earth, but fire users can kinda make it themselves in decent conditions.

They’re still effected by other Elements though. Mustang’s whole ‘useless in the rain’ thing is still a problem. Even more than Canon. Like, he won’t die if put in water(the man has to shower sometimes), but it does make him very low-energy and overall weaker. He does not like swimming.

Also! Faerie Wings!! Gotta have those! The colors resemble a Faerie’s respective Source Element, but aren’t made out of it, so no literal fire wings. They do glow a lot when using powerful Magic. They can also be ‘put away’ to pass as Human(or just for convenience of not knocking shit over in narrow hallways).

Character tidbits

One of the few Fae that don’t have an issue with metals.

Between that, and the fact that the wings are usually ‘put away’, most people assume he’s just a Witch. He doesn’t correct them as it does make him more liked.

He subconsciously feels a connection to Ed and Al due to his Fire Magic nature picking up on their Dragon Fire. It’s one of the reasons why he tolerates their shenanigans(the other reason being that after about ten minutes getting to know them he was like ‘okay you’re my kids now’)

mini things on other characters that I don’t have story for yet:

The rest of the Sins Crew:

Envy is a shapeshifter(of course).

Pride is some sort of shadow monster(again, of course.)

Sloth is one of those Dream Eater Spirit things? You know what I’m talking about. He spends most of his time asleep in the Dream Realm.

Idk about Gluttony or Wrath yet.

Mustang’s Team!

Idk what everyone is yet, but they’re all Monsters of some sort.

Hawkeye is absolutely something with wings tho because HAWKeye!

Not sure what Mei is. Maybe just a Witch, but maybe something more? (obvs on her mom’s side though).

I also want to put Lan Fan in, but I’m not sure where or what she’d be? I think what happens here is that she was friends with Ling, but then his whole ‘bad relationship and becoming a Vampire’ thing happens. She feels guilty for not protecting him from that, and they end up going separate ways for a while, but they’d end up reconnecting at some point.

Story Plot Points!

The whole thing kinda kicks off because Ed and Ling are dating. Yes. Really.

Like, they get to that point in the relationship where Ling invites Ed over and is like “Okay, so I’m not actually Human?”. Because that’s a talk people have to have at somepoint

Ed’s like “cool me neither?”. He further explains the whole thing of how he knows he’s a Monster of some sort but doesn’t know which kind.

He then proceeds to ask a fuckton of questions about Vampires because he hasn’t studied one in-person before, and he noticed Ling goes against the typical rules(can’t go in sunlight, must be invited in, etc.)

As they’re talking on this, Ling mentions that different Monster blood has different effects.

Ed’s thought process is that he could use this to narrow down the search for what kind of monster he is by seeing the effect his blood has on Ling.

Ling’s… hesitant for several reasons.

But Ed insists and makes it very clear that he’s okay with it.

This is where the loopholes kick in!

As Vampire Magic uses the blood they drink, it also counts as the Magic of that creature. So Ling using Ed’s blood qualifies as Dragon Magic, and since the Enthrallment is in effect, that kickstarts Ed’s Magic.

This causes a panic as Ling’s Magic is suddenly a hell of a lot stronger and the Enthrallment is a lot more intense.

There’s also panic because once they stop that part, Ed’s just like ‘Holy FUCK I feel GREAT!’, but Ling knows he shouldn’t feel that good right now and he’s overheating. He’s like ‘Okay, that good feeling is probably you hallucinating or something so let’s go into the bathroom in case you throw up?’

And then Ed just kinda bursts into flames? Luckily they were already in the bathroom so Ling just kinda douses him in the shower.

Next day they head back to Ed’s place (He and Al live with Winry in this AU?). And they explain what happened. They agree that they have a decent lead here, but they need someone more knowledgeable. And, well, Ling knows some people.

Ling takes them down to the Devils’ Nest. As mentioned, Greed and Lust run the place.

They talk to Greed mostly. After explaining everything, he tells Ed to try something. Said thing ends with the boy breathing fire.

Greed’s just like ‘congrats kid you’re a fucking Dragon!’.

Greed and Lust share various tidbits about what they know about Dragons, but admit that there’s probably a lot of stuff they’re forgetting or just straight up don’t know.

They explain the whole ‘dormant Magic only activated by Dragon Magic’, and the probable loophole.

They also explain that once Ed finishes the ‘Awakening’, he’ll be able to ‘Awaken’ Al’s Magic easily. (Though Greed does offer to recreate the loophole(Al is very flustered but currently declines))

Speaking of, they do warn Ed that there’s a bit more to go through. Mostly that he’ll have three forms, but the first time he transforms will be involuntary and painful. Best way to deal with it is ‘when you feel your back start to itch like crazy, take some strong pain meds and lay on your stomach’.

By the time they get back home, Ed’s starting to feel that. So he decides to just go to bed early, and everyone else just kinda tries to sleep too. (like, he says he’s fine and they don’t hear him screaming so he’s probably good?). Ling also stays, but since Ed wants his space for this he stays on the couch.

Next morning, Ed comes down and everyone is fuckin floored. They’re staring but he doesn’t notice at first because he’s very hungry and raiding the fridge for everything.

Basically, since his Magic was supposed to be awakened years ago, his body kinda stopped growing, resulting in him looking a bit ‘stuck at 15’. Now the Magic is making up for lost time, so it’s a somewhat literal ‘puberty hit him like a truck’ situation. (Ling and Winry are both like hearteyesmotherfucker!

Like, you know that picture comparing Ed in the early episodes of fma:b to the later episodes and being all ‘look how much he grew!’? That, but overnight. Ya boi got kinda tall. He’s still shorter than Ling but he’s taller than Winry. (With the potential to grow taller now!)

One of the reasons for the height is that he’s in his midform, aka: Human with Draconic features. This includes his legs being digitigrade, so it’s kinda like he’s constantly standing on his toes. (His Human form is technically shorter because of this).

They also focus on the Dragon-y features more. Like the wings, and the horns, and the tail!! His eyes are the slit-pupil thing, and while his teeth have always been kinda sharp he now has full on fangs. Then they also notice his arms transitioning from skin to scale, starting at the elbow until his hands are claws. (his regular leg also does this from the knee down). His ears are also pointed and scale covered, and he has a few scale freckles on his cheeks.

They have about five minutes of normal before something goes weird. Because suddenly Ed is being ridiculously clingy but is seemingly unaware of how weird that is and cannot seem to explain why.

They’re like ‘why are you hugging me?’ and he’s like ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’. And like, if they try to step away for a minute he gets very Upset™

Somehow they manage to make it back to the Devils’ Nest to ask Greed. The group finds a seat on a couch and at this point Ed’s in full cuddle mode, just hugging the three of them and laying across them and he’s kinda like a cat on catnip.

When Greed gets within five feet, Ed suddenly shoots up and stares at him. He freezes, waiting for Ed to make a move. When Ed nods, he takes a step closer. When he takes a second step, Ed pounces forward and drags him into the cuddle pile.

Greed is mildly confused, but explains to the others that this is just the ‘hoarding instinct’ kicking in, and he’ll be back to normal soon enough.

Since he’s not allowed to leave(Ed is stronger than he looks and also even if Greed could leave Ed’s fucking face is too much), he kinda tells Lust to take over running the bar for the day.

The whole ‘get within five feet and Ed shoots up’ thing happens with her, but Greed calms Ed down by saying ‘it’s okay she’s a friend’.

Of course, when she goes to leave, she finds that while she was out of range of Ed leaning over to grab her, she didn’t notice the tail around her leg.

She gets dragged in, and while Greed tells someone else to take over(from a distance), he also suggests they take this party upstairs.

Al says a thing about ‘can you stop flirting for five seconds?’. Greed responds with a ‘while I would love to invite you to my bed for other reasons, now is not the time’.

Al gets oddly flustered by this

They’re trying to figure out what the connection is between all of them that makes them part of Ed’s Hoard. Lust asks more directly ‘why the fuck did you drag me into this??’. And Ed just points to Greed and says ‘He said you are a friend.’. as if it makes complete sense.

Turns out that Ed’s hoard is friendship. And combined with the fact that(despite his grumpiness) he gets easily attached, it took little for Greed and Lust to be considered friends.

Everyone does have the freedom to leave, and sometimes they do because they need to get up and stretch or use the bathroom or grab a snack. But whenever they do Ed just sits up and stares at the door until they come back.

By the next morning, Ed’s kind of back to normal. Like, he still has the instinct in there and all, but everyone can do their own thing and Ed’s a lot more calm. He’s also very embarrassed about the whole thing.

Of course, Ed and Al remember they were supposed to drop by Mustang’s office a few days ago. Mostly because they get a call like ‘are y’all okay?’.

Ed shifts into the Human Disguise form to head down there, but everyone still notices something is up because he’s suddenly the same height as Hawkeye.

They’re all like ‘okay kid. Drop whatever tall spell you found this time’. Ed just grins maniacally and says ‘it’s no spell! I look like this now!’. Al confirms it, but is realizing how obnoxious Ed’s going to be about the height.

They explain that they figured out what the hell they are, and Ed shows off both the full Dragon form and the Midform.

Obvs the team asks how they figured it out, and Ed explains that Dragon Magic is dormant until another Dragon Awakens it, but they found a loophole.

‘Wait, a loophole? What loophole?’, “Uh… a Vampire using my blood?’, ‘Did you get attacked by a Vampire?!’, ‘No, it’s a friend and I asked him to because different monster blood has different effects’, ‘and you were okay with a guy just getting all up in your personal space and biting your neck like that?’, “Well, he’s the kind of friend where I’d be okay with him‘getting all up in my personal space and biting my neck’ anyway.’. ‘Oh.’

Yeah. They didn’t know Ed was dating anyone, much less a guy. So that’s a conversation.

When asked why it’s just Ed who went through the whole thing while Al’s still ‘normal’, they say that they’re mostly waiting to see what all happens to Ed and how to deal with it.

Although, Ed does point out that if they don’t do it soon it’ll probably happen accidentally since it’s basically a ‘next time he uses Magic on Al situation’.

Then Ed’s like ‘Or, you know, you could always ask Greed to ‘recreate the loophole!’. Al gets very flustered again and is just like ‘willyoushutthefuckuppleaseohmyfuckinggod’

Overall, they’d like some report on what else they find out.

Next plot goes on to ‘testing out powers’. Specifically. The boys want to test out the ‘resist and enhance’ aspect.

They bring in Ling and Greed for this, killing two birds with one stone and also studying the Vampire’s Enthrallment at the same time.

Of the various things they’re testing:

Resisting the spell

‘enhancing’ the spell

differences between the resist/enhance skill of an Awakened Dragon vs. not Awakened

if the Enthrallment Enchantment is different between Vampires(and between who it’s being used on)

Ed and Al also already came up with a ‘payment method’, since they’ll be asking Greed and Ling to use up a bunch of Magical Energy to do this. Said payment is, of course, blood. Ed will ‘pay’ for Ling, while Greed and Al get to ‘recreate the loophole’.

We’re going to jump right into my Al/Greed Rarepair because fuck it it’s my fanfic and I pick the ships!

So their banter has been going back and forth for a bit. Like, at first it was just Greed flirting and Al getting flustered, but once Al gets into the rhythm he can kinda flirt back but neither really realized it was more than banter until now

Al realizes it because of what they figure out about the Enthrallment. Because it effected them differently and the emotions it brought forth wasn't anything unfamiliar. Like, Al found Ling’s Enthrallment to be comfortable, because he’s a friend. But Greed’s made him fluttery and giddy and all that. Meanwhile, Ed felt the opposite.

So when they are alone and he has Greed biting his neck, Al ends up going in for a kiss.

And while the feeling is returned, it leaves Greed somewhat flustered and confused. He manages to distract Al with the ‘you’re probably gonna catch fire in a minute so maybe deal with that first’ thing.

Next time they really see each other is after Al’s turn with the ‘puberty hit him like a truck’ situation, but Greed’s kind of… he’s still a little hesitant and confused about things so he’s giving Al space, but Al doesn’t know that so it’s like ‘is he avoiding me?? Why??’.

Al even wonders if it has something to do with his Midform, and tends to stay in Human Disguise more often around Greed.

Next time they’re alone for a bit they end up talking that out though. And also making out I guess.

Okay! So! A Lot of other plot stuffhappens.

Like, probably things like meeting other characters and also the rest of the Sins Crew, finding out about various fuckery going on. I mean, I did say that while the Sins Crew all kinda left, Father himself is still an Asshole™ and doing some major villain stuff.

So they find out all that and a bunch of other things too. I haven’t thought all that out yet.

Out of the stuff that I have planned out though, the next thing to happen is Ed getting a little kidnapped. Idk exactly ‘why’, other than ‘some assholes are grabbing random monsters’, but who knows what they’re doing with them it’s not important.

Anyway, Ed’s already on his way to break out, when he happens to run into Hohenheim.

Oh boy is that a trip. I mean, first off we have them just being ‘why the fuck are you here? Why am I here? Why are you here?!’ and just generally being that pointing spiderman meme. After the initial shock, Ed’s kinda ready to punch, but then Hohenheim just says things that Ed didn’t expect.

Like, Ed expected Hohenheim to just be some asshole who never cared. But he’s immediately concerned about Ed and seems to, you know, care about him.

The thing that really hits him though is when he says something along the lines of ‘Let’s get you out of here and back home. Your mother’s probably worried about you!’.

He realizes ‘oh god he has no clue’. And then he realizes ‘oh god I’m going to have to tell him’.

And like, I’m not gonna get too into that Angst Fest™, but there is kind of a minor breakdown because how else do you react to that news?

But that whole thing is enough to make Ed stop and think things through and overall give Hohenheim chance.

They then end up going on their own adventures while Ed tries to get back home.

And of course various strange bonding experiences happen along the way

A lot of that bonding is learning about Dragon Tricks. Especially flying because while Ed kinda figured out a little bit he hasn’t had anyone with wings(or at least the same kind of wings) to really teach him.

During one flight Ed suddenly catches a familiar scent

obvs everyone is looking for Ed, and he manages to find Ling, Greed and Lust

Ed does a literal flying tackle at Ling and knocks him over. There’s a minor fight because Ling doesn’t realize he’s not being attacked but you know.

After hugging the fuck out of Ling, Ed tells Greed and Lust to get down there too. Greed’s like ‘hell no I’m not getting on the ground to hug you!’ but he forgets about the tail. Lust gives in.

They ask what the fuck happened and Ed’s like ‘where do I even begin??’

At some point Hohenheim had popped up and is like ‘maybe start with introductions?”

then you get the comedic thing of the Vampires looking up, and then continuing to look up, and then being terrified of the giant fucking dragon.

Ed’s just all causal like ‘so, uh, I found my dad?’.

Walking into the nearest town is fun

Ed’s kinda clinging to Ling because goddamn it he was lonely!

At some point Ling kinda starts to stumble a little and Ed’s concerned. Greed says ‘he’s fine he’s just and idiot’.

Basically Ling hasn’t had any blood since the last time he drank from Ed. Which was a while ago at this point, so he’s kinda getting a little weak. Not dangerously but imagine the feeling of pulling an all nighter without caffeine.

Ed offers, but Ling brushes it off by saying if he took a drink now, then Ed would be the one weak and stumbling so it doesn’t make a difference, it can wait until they get a place to stay for the night.

Not putting up with that shit, Ed transforms into Full Dragon and offers a ride. Ling’s a little bit like ‘really??’

Greed’s kinda jokingly like ‘why don’t I get offered a ride?’. Ed says ‘well, when we get back home you can ask Al.” Greed opens his mouth to make a joke, looks over to Hohenheim, and decides he really should shut up.

Lust is kinda like ‘hey. Why are we walking into town when we have a large Dragon that can carry all of us?’

Hohenheim’s answer is ‘First of all, I am not a taxi service. Furthermore, if people saw a large Dragon land in the middle of town, they would freak the fuck out.

Ling falls asleep on the way back.

They manage to get a hotel room in the next town they come across. Ed and Ling get their own room, of course.

They go to do the whole ‘blood drinking’ thing, but Ling’s still very hesitant.

Ed has noticed this a lot and at first he figured it was the typical ‘I’m new to being a Vampire and hesitant to do something so weird/taboo/etc.’ thing, but now he’s getting the feeling its something else and ends up asking about it.

So, big trigger warning for that whole ‘abusive relationship’ thing I mentioned way back in the beginning. But, like, that’s kind of what’s up. Like, his Ex used to use the effect of the Enchantment to be manipulative. And Ling’s kind of afraid of accidentally doing that to Ed.

Ed just points out that 1. he knows when Ling is using the enchantment and knows how to separate his feelings from it, 2. the enchantment itself doesn’t make him feel all love-y (he brings up the whole ‘testing it with Greed’ thing as proof, since it didn’t spark any romance with Greed.), and 3. Ed is a Dragon. His own Magic can cancel out the Enchantment if he chooses to do so.

The whole thing does get Ling to relax about it. It’ll still take a while for him to get comfortable using it on Ed, but now Ed knows to not try doing anything romantic while under the Enchantment.

Okay! On with that! The group eventually gets back to home base and they meet up with Al and Winry and whoever else is a friend at this point.

Ed fucking tackle hugs them, of course.

After that Al and Winry notice Hohenheim and they can’t even figure out how to process that they just gesture like ‘what the fuck?’

Ed explains what happened and they’re kind of like ‘you know what fine.

Time for more family bonding with Hohenheim talking to Al for a while.

Time for another Rarepair because this is my fic and I choose the ships!

So, like, Mustang meeting Hohenheim.

Mustang’s just like, staring for a bit. And it’s not helped by the fact that Hohenheim has no sense of personal space when he’s investigating other creatures(because he’s a nerd and that’s what he likes to do).

Mustang is flustered to the point that Ed and Al actually notice and are like ‘bruh what is up with you?”

Obviously he lies as tries to say it’s a reaction to a large source of fire magic. Ed and Al are like ‘really? Because you never do that around us.’

Someone (Probably Hughes) eventually calls him out says ‘magic reaction my ass you think the guy’s pretty!’

Ed and Al are confused by this revelation but are kinda chill with it? Mostly they don’t know how to feel so they’re just going to be chill out of confusion. 

That’s all I got on the plot so far because fuck it.

[tabithalovesstuff]

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

I hardly ever get asks so I'm going to do this all at once, I'll also repub the original after this too, tag you're it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? Solitary

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? Witch, I kind of consider myself pagan too but not as much since I don't consider my practice a religion

3. What is your zodiac sign? Libra sun sign, Sagittarius moon, Virgo Rising

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? Nope, I don't really believe in any of the Gods lol

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? Nope

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination? Tarot, and I want to get into pendulum too but I've been too broke to buy one

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) I don't practice with herbs 🤭 mostly cause they are hard for me to get lol

8. How would you define your craft? I generalize it by saying I'm a Eclectic Secular Witch that specializes in energy work and tarot

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? I don't really do curses, how ever that is because I haven't had the need to do one, I think its fine to do them as long as you know what you are doing

10. How long have you been practicing? Technically I started in Middle school, but I've only truly started to get into it and truly practice for the last 2 years (but if you count when I started then 8 years)

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? I do not, i have pets they just aren't attracted to magic enough to be a familiar lol

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? Yes to both

13. Do you have a magical name? No I don't, I feel like my real name is enough

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Technically, I don't try to hide it but I don't talk about it a lot so not a lot of people know I'm a witch.

15. What was the last spell you performed? I know some witches don't count these but I did an emoji spell for the coronavirus

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? More or less, I feel like I'm decently knowledgeable but not enough to be a teacher or leader

17. Do you write your own spells? Yes I do

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? I do have one, its a very personal one that includes more than just magic almost like a journal. I write down information I want to be able to look back at as well as any spells and rituals I write myself and tarot readings for myself, and sometimes dreams.

19. Do you worship nature? I do

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Opal

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? No I don't, I wouldn't be against it though

22. Do you have an altar? Yes, kind of. Its really messy rn and doesn't really look like an altar

23. What is your preferred element? Either Earth or Air, I'm always stuck between those two

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? Not at all lol I've never made any sort of potion

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? Nope, though I do have an interest in cryptozoology but I don't know if that counts

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? Tbh I wanted to turn myself into a mermaid or a wolf (which is why I started in middle school lmao)

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? No I haven't, just cause I focus so much on energy work, sometime I find other people's energy distracting

28. Have you ever used ouija? Yep, nothing really happened though

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? Not really, maybe to a certain extent.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? I feel like a Deer is my spirit guide

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? I need to lower my expectations and I need to focus on feeling the magic over going through the motions

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I try to! Doesn't always work out for me lol, I really like both Litha and Samhain

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Yes I plan too

34. Do you meditate? Yes, but not as often as I should

35. What is your favorite season? Winter, I feel like all seasons have their perks though and living somewhere with one season would suck ass

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? Energy magic, as a witch that doesn't have good access to supplies (and space) it is the easiest for me (I have a post all about energy magic on my profile too)

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? Energy magic makes it really easy, like brushing my teeth or hair, taking a shower, even making food can all have a magical element to it

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? Honestly? Casper Meets Wendy lol, or the Halloweentown movies, or the Twitches movie

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? I haven't really read very many witchy books ngl

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. Again, this was back in middle school, I did a spell on the full moon to turn into a werewolf. Obviously not successful

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? I did a cleansing spell on my dorm room my freshman year of college once a week cause I had a toxic ass roommate and she requested a room change before the end of the semester because of a "bad smell" that no one else could smell but her.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I don't use candles, because I'm not allowed to have them in my school dorms, I want to get into candles more though

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? My tarot cards lol

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? Nope, I want to though

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? Not really, I dabble in it here and there though. I would love to work with the fae more though

46. Do you practice color magic? Yes, all the time

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? Nope

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Online, I mostly use stuff I find around my house or on the ground outside though

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? Not fully, I think every person is born with a long list of possible fates and the paths you choose in life determines where you end up

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? I try to do free tarot reading on here or meditate more, sometimes looking through my book of shadows helps too

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? Yeah I've had a few

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? When people try to say there is a certain way you have to practice and some forms of witchcraft "aren't real witchcraft" just cause they don't practice in that way

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? I do, I don't really have a favorite, I like trying a bunch of different kinds at once

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? I kind of write my dreams down in my book of shadows, I don't keep up with it very well though

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? I can't say if I've ever really had one. I did a job spell and even though I got an interview I didn't get the job, and then was unemployed for a few months until after college semester, then I got hired at my old job. In the spell I said I wanted to be hired somewhere that was as good as my old job so my spell brought me right back to it

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? The cleansing ritual story I mentioned above. Once that roommate was out of my life I was so much happier lol.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? Speaking incantations, sometimes I feel like I'm talking to myself lol

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Yes I do, especially because I am an atheist

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? Not scared, but definitely unsure and insecure. Spell work is tricky, especially writing my own spells, I feel like I'm not doing them well enough

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Yeah sometimes, I get so bad about actually practicing and I want to get to the point where I practice every day and I always celebrate the Sabbaths and have a wide variety of crystals and learn astrology and so much more

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? I still need to do the money spell I wrote awhile ago, but it has to do with enchanting work uniform and I'm kinda unemployed rn

62. What is your rune of choice? I don't have any experience with runes, sorry lol

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The Star

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? No I dont

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? Nope

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? I would if I had any, but I don't lol

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? Not really, but that's because not a lot of people know about it, I definitely feel like the people that do know don't take it seriously

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? Nope

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? I don't think it is. I suggest it definitely but it isn't required. Its a lot if history to break down and you don't need to know the history to practice

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? I like the feeling of all the things in the world around me, which I feel like you only get from the training you go through when learning witchcraft. I also enjoy the ability to cleanse my environment and myself

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? No one really takes you or your craft seriously, and because of some people taking parts of the craft, I feel like being a witch is almost seen as some joke

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? No I don't, unless you count instrumentals that raise your vibration

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I honestly am not sure if I do or not, I don't think I've heard any of the holidays I celebrate called that? I celebrate the pagan wheel of the year holidays so if those are apart of that then yes 😂

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I do sometimes

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? Very much so, even though I still struggle with depression and anxiety, witchcraft has made it so much better than it use to be and I feel like I'm happier since I started practicing, my view of life has become more wholesome

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? Nature mostly

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) honestly yeah I do, for sure

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? Don't have one

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I would, but I haven't in anything so far but that's just cause I haven't felt like a spell needed blood magic

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? No I couldn't be, I don't want to hide parts of myself from someone that should know me better than anyone else

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? I want to explore astrology more and include that more. I also want to do more spell work and ritual work

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? Again I don't use candles, I do have a air scenter from Bath and Body works and I had a Pumpkin Spice Cupcake scent that was soooo good

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? I don't, but that's because I don't really do rituals, I want to get more into them though

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? I don't know any real life witches tbh

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I don't work with them so...

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? I keep them all on the shelf below my altar, my organization skills lack a lot though

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? Not that I know of, my family does come from Ireland though (within the last 3 generations too) so it could be possible

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? I created my path through growing up and becoming more aware of my surroundings, and as I matured I understand more and more what witchcraft is really about. And I did it all on my own which is what I think is unique about it

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I feel like I am clairvoyant to a certain degree, and I've always had above average visualization skills

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? I feel like you can initiate yourself

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? Nothing because I was a child with no money lol

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? I live in Colorado when I'm not away at school and the entirety of the mountains are pretty magical

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? I am definitely not the person for this question lol

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? I like to sometimes put on gentle music or nature sounds, quiet every thought that comes into my head

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It came really easily for me, I think its cause I use to read SOOOO much as a kid

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? Night, idk why I just feel more at peace at Night

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? This depends on what the spell is, but generally sometime in the evening in my room is the best 😂

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? I definitely stumble, I still struggle with casting circles

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? I think it does, at least I feel like it comes more naturally with time and practice

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? None of the above

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? Yeah I do, all the time

102. What is your favorite color and why? Green, I've just always loved green since I was a kid idk why

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? "What do witches even do?" I usually just say its complicated, because it is complicated lol

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? I want to say my hearing but I feel like my taste is pretty good too

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? Always cast a circle and ground yourself before a spell. I am really bad at it lol

[ijustwanttowritefanfic]

Scarlett’s Glamour

Finished up the scene I started yesterday, hope you all enjoy

Scarlett locked the door behind her and sat on the bed.  First off, the heeled boots she had worn all day.  The relief of it all pulled a groan from her and she laid back to enjoy the feeling of freeing her feet.  They were good boots, but damn, if she did not prefer going barefoot somedays.

Next came the corset and dress, tossed haphazardly onto the only chair in the room, then the stockings.  The silk of the bed felt good against her skin.  She would have to send Kyreath out on more overnight missions, having a room to herself felt great.

Realizing that she was truly alone, Scarlett dropped the glamour she held over herself.  The room dimmed a bit, the magic gone from her eyes.  A pressure she had not even noticed lifted off her brow.  When had she dropped the glamour last? Since before she joined up with Kyreath.  Had it been almost twelve years?

She rubbed a hand over her stomach, feeling the scars and muscles there.  No one saw those, just the toned flawless glamour.  Lifting her hands up, she stared at them.  Her knuckles had fresh scars, the callouses from swinging Bloody Bastard bumpy and rough.  Imperfections, rough patches, the lines of living, they looked so strange.

They were her hands, but they were not the hands she saw.  These were the hands soaked in the blood of the greater good, but been covered by the power of her Queen.  

Standing, she walked into the attached bathroom.  She did her business, but when washing at the basin, her own reflection startled her.

Scarlett, Unseelie champion, looked like a voluptuous woman in the prime of her life.  Flawless, clear pale skin, full lips and sultry eyes.  The creature staring back at her was too lean, sickly white, its mouth a slash in hollow cheeks.  Part of her right ear had been nicked off, leaving a chuck out of the top of it.  Faint scars ringed her eyes, fights she barely remembered.  Stepping back, she ran hands again over torso.

Puckered wounds, burns, ridges under her breasts from broken ribs.  So many fights, and the glamour just covered them up.  Her body a massive tapestry of scars.

Well, her buff body a massive tapestry of scars.  She knew some of her powers came from Mab and the bond they shared, but her arms were big.  The glamour had narrowed her shoulders, but the reflection she stared at looked like she could pick up Aramil and toss his scrawny elf ass across the courtyard.

Having your soul sold to the Winter Queen had its uses.  Even though no one else saw it.  

Wiping her hands and washing her face in the sink, Scarlett kept sneaking glances at her own arms and shoulders.  Her tummy was a bit round, but it felt solid.  She remembered the knights in her Father’s employ, and they had also had the same look.  The hollowness of her cheeks and eyes suggested she needed to eat more, and sleep the whole night through.

Maybe doing it without the glamour would help.  The light of it always bothered her.

Opening the door to the room, she froze.

“Heeeey,” Kyreath said, stretched out on the bed, her robes hanging open.  The smirk slid off her face into a perfect O.  “Scarlett?!”

Scarlett slammed the door shut.  There was nothing for her to cover herself with in the bathroom.  With a heavy sigh, she concentrated and clothed herself in glamour.  The mask slid back on easily.  She fashioned an opaque slip to cover herself with.  It wasn’t real, but Scarlett just needed to cross the room to her bags, grab a dressing gown, and she would be fine.

Yanking open the door, she came face to face with Kyreath.  “Scarlett?”  She had closed her robes, and held a knife in her hand.

Scowling, Scarlett pushed past her.  “Yes, what are you doing here?  You shouldn’t have left the college.”

“What in the Empress was that?”  Kyreath turned to follow her.

“What was what?”  Reaching her bag, Scarlett pulled out her dressing gown and slid it on.

Kyreath snorted.  “You know what I’m talking about, you are such a horrible liar.  What was with that buff scarred warrior look?”

Keeping her back to Kyreath, Scarlett warred over what to say.  “I work with the Fae, it was a new glamour, something more dominating, scary?”  She really couldn’t lie.

“Yes, cause that’s what you needed, to be more dominating.”  Kyreath moved to stand where Scarlett could see her.  “And why would your sexy warrior form be nude?  Those thighs are only going to be scary if you squeeze my head between them.”

“Ky!”  Scarlett felt her skin redden.

“And those shoulders only made my knees weak with how strong they looked.  Lift me up and carry-”

Scarlett covered Kyreath’s mouth with her hand, glaring daggers.  “Stop.”

Once Kyreath nodded, Scarlett uncovered her mouth.  “You honestly liked that?”

“Scarlett, babe, I’ve always liked the way you looked, that was just,” Kyreath shivered, grinning, “that was just something so much more.  So, what, is it a new spell, a new power from the great queen of the Fae?  Oh, you’re channeling the power of some ancient mystic warrior!”

“No,” Scarlett took a deep breath.  She could trust Kyreath with this.  “That is actually what I look like.”

“Hah! I knew this wasn't the real you!”  Kyreath clapped her hands and danced in a little circle.  “You always, always look like you had spent hours with maids and servants doing your hair and makeup.  Your clothes were never flawed, perfectly ironed, crease crisply.  Nothing stained them, it was just too good.”

“Uh…” Scarlett blinked.

“Come on, Scarlett, with as much traveling we do, you should look a bit travel worn.”  Kyreath ran a hand over her bald head.  “I think that’s why you always disturbed those small villages.  Days or weeks from major cities, and you stroll in looking like the Empress herself?  It just wasn’t right.”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” Scarlett said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  She felt the notch in the top of it.  “Just, the Sidhe use glamour all the time, and it became second nature.  I honestly forget I can take it off.”

“I mean, who can blame you?  Never having to actually worry about how you look?”  Kyreath’s eyes widen suddenly.  “Can you change it?  Could you make yourself look different, or it is just this?”

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett closed her eyes and focused.  She heard Kyreath squeal.  “Empress’ tits, are you trying to look like me?”

Nodding, Scarlett opened her eyes.  She still towered over Kyreath, the glamour not able to adjust her height.  Rather than use the glamour to cover her hair,she had blackened it to match Kyreath’s darker skin tone.

Kyreath stood on her tiptoes and caressed Scarlett’s ear.  “Ah, the points are fake.”  

The touch caused Scarlett to shiver, and she stepped back.

“Is that why you dislike touching?  Don’t want anyone to realize that it’s not all real?”  Kyreath dropped her hands back to her side.

“No, I have never been a touchy person.  My mother did not hug me enough as a child,” Scarlett said, pulling out the old joke.

“Hmm, well now you have me wanting to grow out my hair.  Even though I’ll just burn it off again.”  Kyreath circled around Scarlett, admiring herself through Scarlett’s eyes.  “Damn, does my ass really look that good?”

Scarlett coughed, and returned the glamour to the state she normally wore it in.

“Aww, I was enjoying that…”  Kyreath grinned and Scarlett broke out in a sudden cold sweat.  “How about you-”

“I’m not going to look like you while we have sex.  Winter’s Night, Ky, that’s just too weird.”

“Wait, what did you say?”  She moved closer to Scarlett, still grinning.

“That’s too weird?”  Confused, Scarlett backed away.

“You said, ‘while we have sex.’  Are you going to try to seduce me?”  Kyreath leaned forward.

“I don’t have to seduce you, Ky,” Scarlett said.  “I just have to do this.”  She dropped the glamour, grabbed Kyreath’s robes and lifted her into a kiss.  

Kyreath laughed before Scarlett’s lips cut her off.  Wrapping her arms around Scarlett’s neck, Kyreath hung from her.  Her warm body wiggled against Scarlett’s as she parted her lips and pushed her tongue into the other lady’s mouth.  Lips moved against each other as Kyreath tasted all of Scarlett that she could.  Leaning into Scarlett, Kyreath pushed her back against the wall.

Letting out a gasp, Scarlett broke the kiss when they hit.  Kyreath planted kisses up her neck, purring into her ear.  “I hate that you’re always right.”  Scarlett laughed, and scooped Kyreath onto her shoulder, carrying her to the bed.  She tossed the small half elf onto the bed before stripping and joining her.

The next morning, Scarlett awoke, curled inside Kyreath’s embrace.  The half elf drooled a bit in her boneless sleep, relaxed in a way that Scarlett was jealous of.  Slipping out from under her, Scarlett padded over to the bathroom.

Washing up, she checked herself in the mirror again.  Kyreath had been eager, adding love bites and scratches over the scars.  Both her shoulders seemed to be the focus of Kyreath’s attention, although her neck seemed molted in bright red spots.

Her thighs ached from the night’s activity, although the skin did not have the same coloring as her shoulders and neck.  Finishing up with the washing from the basin, she slid the glamour back on.

The Fae magic covered all of what had happened last night up, returning Scarlett to what she always looked like.  Scarlett frowned, and adjusted the glamour.  Her shoulders broaden, matching what was underneath.  The glamour now followed the contours of her upper arms now, as did her thighs.  She kept the voluptuous form of it all, soft curves with wide breasts and hips.  Just, now she added on broader shoulders and bigger arms.  Not Fae magic to make her look stronger, but her own body, stronger.

“Nice look,” Kyreath said, leaning against the door frame.  Scarlett covered herself with her arms, frowning.

“I swear, I’m going to put a bell on you,” Scarlett said.  Kyreath laughed.  Her own body also showed the signs of last night.  Her bald head had lines of scratches along it, as well as her stomach.

“You get the collar, and I’ll wear it always.”  Kyreath winked, strolling into the bathroom and eying Scarlett up and down.  “I’m not going to say I dislike this, but I have to say, I really liked the scars, and the lean muscles.  This looks really pretty, but kinda fake.”

Scarlett shrugged a shoulder.  “It’s glamour, it’s suppose to be fake.  I also think you’re bias.”

“Just a bit.  I like what you did with your shoulders.”  Kyreath ran a hand over them.  “Now, out, I actually need to get ready and I don’t get to use magic to speed it up.”

“Now you just sound jealous,” Scarlett said, leaving the bathroom.  She dressed, the glamour covering up the little imperfections of her clothes hanging off the chair the whole night.  

Brushing her hair, she waited for Kyreath to finish.  The glamour would hide the split ends and the tangles, but Scarlett still felt them.  Also, having one’s hair brushed felt good, like being petted.

Kyreath left the bathroom nude still, her only robe tossed over the headboard of the bed.  “Alright, time to go back to the undercover work.  What are your plans for the day?”

“I’m going to talk to that Celestial.  I feel like she knows more than she is letting on.”  Grabbing her boots, Scarlett finished dressing as Kyreath tied off her robe.

“Oh?  How you going to get her to talk?  Maybe pick her up and-” Scarlett let out a long suffering sigh.

“I am starting to regret letting you see that.”

Kyreath laughed, grabbed the front of Scarlett’s dressed and kissed her.  “You love it, and I love you.  Go kick ass, hun.  We have a necromancer to find.”

Scarlett blushed, and did not hide it behind the glamour this time.

If you enjoyed this story, a cup of Ko-Fi is aa great way to say thanks!

And thank you for reading and have a nice day!

[readiceprincess]

Chapter Twelve

Luther greeted them at the door when they came back from a quick errand run. “I must confess I wasn't expecting this.”

Sibyl and Westley carried bags full of magazines, snacks, and cleaning equipment. She shrugged.

“I'm gonna educate Westley then we'll clean this place up,” she explained.  Luther raised his eyebrows. His eyes were puffy, but that just made him more attractive. Maybe it was law that people in Faerie and the Grimm Order had to be good looking or something. She couldn't complain.

“We? Your highness is cleaning too?”

“Trust me, I don't want to,” Westley said behind her, “but she's left me no choice.”

“Nope. No choice whatsoever. Now come on, modernization time.”

They walked in, Luther moving out of the way with a stunned expression. Westley and Sibyl sat on the dusty kitchen table. She used a swifer to wipe the dust off then laid out the magazines and snacks. Holding up a box, she grinned.  “These are pop tarts. The best pop tarts are chocolate chip and wild berry. And the best way to eat them is frozen. Got it?”

“Chocolate chip and wild berry. Yes,” Westley repeated. He reached for the box and opened it, pulling out a chocolate chip pop tart.

“Here are some magazines. Magazine's are like little paper books that come out once a month. They're horrible and a plague on the earth but for now we'll use them to teach you about our world. I got all I could find,” she continued, opening a box of Mike & Ikes. “This is candy. There're all types of candy and it's pretty bad for you. But delicious.”

“You know we have candy and magazines in Faerie right?”

“You do?”

“Of course. Just not this colorful,” Westley replied, gesturing to the magazines. “Well you learn something new every day.”

Luther watched, leaning against the wall with an interested expression. There was a twinge of amusement in his eyes as one brow rose with interest. Westley took a few Mike & Ikes then grabbed a magazine and stared at the cover.

“Who is Bradgelina?”

“Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie,” Sibyl answered. “Both are actors. They're a famous couple. People like to mix the names of their favorite couples.”

“Oh okay. What plays have they performed in?”

“They act in movies.”

“Movies?”

“Movies are like plays but on a television screen. I'll show you sometime when Josephine and I have our movie night. I guess you haven't seen The Goonies either.”

From where he stood Luther chuckled. The prince peered back at him. When he smiled Luther had wrinkles by his eyes. “You're doing something very human, Westley,” Luther commented. “Eating junk and reading gossip is as human as it gets.”

“Now we just need to watch hours of Netflix and order pizza. I bet you haven't seen Friday Night Lights or Pushing Daisies.” Sibyl munched on a sour gummy worm. There was a knock on the door. Her eyebrows furrowed as she leaned back. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“Ahhh.” He tapped his temple and moved from the wall. “That must be your tutors.”

She made a face, Westley chuckling.

Luther opened the door. The short council member and a tall women waited. Her hard gaze made Sibyl straighten. With silky black hair in an ornate up do, crystals and snowflakes decorated her and made her appear out of this world. And she was a big fan of smoky eyes. It was like she and Rose had the same makeup artist and made her still.

Luther welcomed them with a warm smile. “Good morning Council Member Xavier and Miss Sonja.”

The woman seemed bored. “Hello Sir Luther.”

He motioned for them to come in, stepping aside. They entered, studying the home with disdain. “Mortals have such horrible taste in decor,” Miss Sonja murmured. With a frown Luther lowered his head.

“We're working on it,” Sibyl piped up. Their attention snapped to her, Miss Sonja's lips forming into a thin line. “We got some cleaning supplies. I'm just teaching Westley about the modern world before we get started.”

“Good Oberon,” Miss Sonja whispered. “You must be Celia's daughter. The resemblance is uncanny. Yet you lack her sophistication and grace.” Sibyl shrank into herself. Yup, she reminded her of Rose alright.

“Can't you see?” Westley countered. “There's something magical about her.” A small smile curved the corner of her lips.

“Prince Westley, forgive my rudeness,” Miss Sonja gasped. She and Xavier bowed, but he didn't notice, reading a magazine and peeking over to Sibyl. “Your mother asked I return you immediately.”

“I don't want to go home.”

The tutors exchanged a glance. Xavier cleared his throat. “But Westley your mother is worried. And your bride-”

Westley slammed down the magazine. “I will not marry that toad and I'm not returning. For Faerie’s sake I'm an adult. Let me make my own decisions – as a prince and a man.”

Xavier and Miss Sonja were dumbstruck. Sibyl smiled. Courage was intoxicating.

“You know it doesn't work that way,” Miss Sonja sputtered.

“Why don't we let Westley settle this for himself? He can make his own decisions. And as for me,” she pulled out her chair and stood. “You're here to tutor me right?”

Xavier frowned. “You're siding with him?”

Sibyl put her hands on her hips. “Everyone deserves agency.”

“What a bold statement,” Miss Sonja snorted.

“Never mind that,” Xavier said. “Miss Sonja will begin her tutoring session first. As you continue to be a part of the Order it's imperative you learn proper etiquette. On the summer solstice a Masquerade Ball is hosted and both courts will want you to present yourself.”

“What? I-”

“There will be no getting out of this,” Luther interrupted. “You're a representative of Earth now.”

Sibyl stared at her clothes. Debutantes didn't wear Barbie graphic tees, right? “I don't look the part.”

With a snap of Miss Sonja's fingers Sibyl was in a beautiful Victorian gown. It was monochromatic, as if it came from a black and white photograph. The hoop skirt brushed against the ground.

“How did you do that?”

“Glamor,” she replied. “Every Fae can use it.”

As it hugged her body – and the corset was pretty tight – a strange sensation ran over her. Glamor was weird but cool. It was much like a whisper of winter's edge. But there was something transparent about it hinting to its fabrication of reality.

“Let me show you what imagination energy can do.” Miss Sonja snapped and they appeared in a gray ballroom. People danced, their expressions hollow but movements swift and precise. Something about the ballroom seemed familiar, as if she had been there before. There was a different feeling here. It wasn't the same as Glamor. While Glamor felt like a mask imagination energy was real. It breathed life in an almost ironic way.

The dancers parted, revealing Miss Sonja, Xavier, Westley, and Luther standing across from her. They were dressed in Victorian attire, dashing and beautiful yet gray. Maybe Faerie was a bit gray too. “Your first lesson will be proper introductions and the Waltz.”

“The Waltz?”

Luther stepped forward and offered a hand, bowing. “I'm Sir Luther, knight of the UnSeelie Court under Clan Bear.” There was a sparkle in his eyes. “The Waltz happens to be my favorite. Would you do me the honor of this dance?”

Sibyl blinked. If she thought he was good looking before he was downright gorgeous in his Victorian suit. If there was ever a man born to dress in Victorian suits, it was Luther. “Y-Yes.”

“Introduce yourself. Curtsy,” Miss Sonja instructed.

Sibyl wobbled into a curtsy, not sure how to move in the dress. “Like this?”

A snap of sharp pain rippled down her back and she yelped. “Graceful! Graceful! It's hard to believe you're Celia's daughter. Address him as you go down and introduce yourself as you come up. Then give him your answer.”

“Is this really necessary?” Sibyl groaned. Another sharp pain rippled down her back. “Okay okay.”

Behind Luther, Westley waved. He put one foot forward and curtsied, pretending to grab his skirt. Oh. Sibyl mimicked him, saying, “Sir Luther, I'm Miss Sibyl Bix. I'd love to dance.”

Luther gave her an encouraging smile. “Well done. We'll work on how to introduce yourself.” He winked. “Now follow my lead.” He put his hand on her waist and held her other. “Keep your shoulders back. Good. Now keep your chin raised and don't look at your feet. Do you know a box step?”

“I was a dancer. It's the dress that's a problem.”

An encouraging smile played at his lips. “You'll get it.”

They danced around, Sibyl counting the steps in her head. It'd been so long since she danced. A few more sharp pains rippled down her back but for the most part she got it.

“Ahh see,” Luther complimented. “You're doing a wonderful job. Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you.”

She was beaming. Maybe it was the mention of Celia or the fact that a handsome man was dancing with her. Either way it wasn't too bad. Heck she could get used to this.

As they danced, he held his head up high. It was kind of endearing how his ears stuck out a bit and his hair kind of curled. Every now and then she caught glimpses of Miss Sonja watching with critical eyes. Xavier swayed to the music, closing his eyes. There was no sign of Westley but she had to concentrate on her dancing anyway.

“You said you were a dancer?” Luther asked, making small conversation.

“Hmm? Oh yeah. I took ballet for ten years,” she replied, keeping her eyes on him. “Sorry. I keep counting in my head so I'm not being the best dance partner conversation wise.”

“Well to be honest, I think you're the belle of the ball even if you're not conversing,” he whispered, leaning closer and peering past her. She chuckled.

“Oh man, are you serious? With this competition?” She gestured to the hollow figures around her.

“It's hard to believe, I know,” he agreed with a chuckle. His breath was cool like a winter morning. A thrill of pleasure soothed her at his touch. “I think someone wants to take you away from me.”

“Hmm?”

Luther didn't answer. He released her to spin, but Sibyl stumbled and bumped into someone. Embarrassed she turned to Luther. He was gone. Her hands balled into fists at her side and she sucked in her lips. There was a tap on her shoulder. When she turned she found Westley smiling down at her, comfortable in a nice suit but a touch shy.

“Shall we?”

She curtsied, almost stumbling. “Right. Um sure.”

Westley pulled her close and cleared his throat, beginning the dance. For some reason she couldn't look at him. It wasn't that he was bad looking. Far from it. He was a walking dream. Luther had nothing on him, and that was saying something. But something about him just... Ah she couldn't put words to it.

They moved to the song, the pace quickening. Sibyl gulped, then stepped on his shoes.

“Ouch,” Westley winced. A sharp pain rippled down her back.

“Sorry,” she said through grit teeth.

“Stop.” They froze, taking a deep breath. “Perhaps we should dance slower.”

Sibyl frowned. “I'm not cut out for this etiquette and lady-like stuff, am I?”

“You underestimate yourself,” he whispered with a shake of the head. “You can do this. I know a lady when I see one.” He tipped her chin. “And you have the makings of a great lady in you.”

“Lies. All of it.”

He laughed, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world – both worlds. “I'm not lying. Let's try again. Show me that you have the grace and beauty of a swan. Or like your mother. Or whatever is graceful on Earth. I'll spin you this time.”

“I'm not ready for a spin.”

“Let's try.” And he let her go for the spin.

She couldn't keep her head straight. The room swirled. Losing track of her feet, Sibyl tripped, pulling Westley down with her. The impact knocked the wind out of her and Westley bumped against her. The room spun until she could make out the details of the roof. Cherubs frowned at her. Westley propped himself up on his elbow.

Sibyl covered her face, waiting for his reprimand. Nothing happened. She peeked through one eye. His face was bright red as he chortled and her jaw dropped. “You think this is funny?”

“Don't you?” And he cracked, exploding with laughter. “I've never had this much fun at a ball.”

Sibyl put her hands on her face, hiding her red cheeks as she laughed. “That's it, no more spinning. Or falling.”

“Brilliant idea.” Westley sat up. The ghostly figures parted as Miss Sonja stormed over, eyes wide and appalled. The prince stood and coughed. “Miss Sonja.” He acknowledged her with a slight bow. “Sibyl,” he whispered to the laughing girl. “Sibyl get up.”

“I can't,” she laughed. “Why are you whispering – Ow!” She turned to her side, her back aching from another sharp ripple of pain.

“Miss Sibyl! We can see your unmentionables,” Miss Sonja scolded. Westley grabbed Sibyl's hand and helped pull her up, her hair falling in her face. “You have the grace of a duck. You'll never be ready for the Masquerade.” Miss Sonja rubbed her eyes. “This is a disgrace.”

“I - Ow!”

“Silence,” Miss Sonja hissed, dropping her hands to her sides. “I've never had such an embarrassment of a student. Disgraceful! I can't do it Xavier. I'm done.” Xavier walked to them, disdain marring his features. “Now Miss Sonja-”

“I'm done Xavier. She'll never learn. She'll never have what it takes. Celia made a big mistake in raising this girl on Earth surrounded by hicks,” Miss Sonja bellowed. Westley squeezed Sibyl's shoulder but she stepped forward.

“My mom did the best she could to raise me,” she snapped. “And if this is the world she grew up with then it's my world too. But don't you dare talk about her like that. I don't care what you think about me but you better keep your mouth shut when it comes to her.”

Miss Sonja crossed her arms, glaring down at her. Sibyl held her ground, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

“You have no idea what kind of world you’re throwing yourself into, child. And you’ll never make it or impress anyone.”

“Well not if I give up I won’t,” Sibyl retorted. “I messed up. It’s my first time. Don’t expect me to be an expert right away. But don’t count on my failure so soon either.”

Tapping her chin, the tall woman considered her words. Her eyes flickered to Xavier. He sniffed, his lips forming into a thin line.

“Now that's what I expect from the daughter of Celia,” she told him. Westley raked his hands though his hair.

“I told you, she has it in her.”

****

Sibyl fell on the couch. If she thought Miss Sonja was bad, Xavier was worse. She was supposed to create these things called power pulses from her hands and every time she failed – which was most of the time – he'd shock her. She did manage to freeze a few things when she got upset, but that didn't impress Xavier.

When Reeve and Josephine arrived Sibyl laid sprawled across the couch and Westley was eating gummy worms and reading magazines.

“How was your... Day?” Josephine asked.

“Just leave me alone to die,” Sibyl whined into a pillow. She lifted her head, bags under her eyes and her hair a frizzy mess. “Who's idea was it to let those two tutor me?”

Josephine turned to Westley while Reeve put his stuff down by the coat rack. “Was it that bad?”

“Horrible.”

“You had the etiquette lesson didn't you?” Josephine frowned. “Miss Sonja's well known in Faerie. She plans events for both courts, especially the UnSeelie court.”

“What are these courts anyway?”

“Seelie and UnSeelie,” Reeve said, flexing his arms as he came to sit beside her. “Seelie is the summer court and UnSeelie is the winter court. But they've been disbanded and are now a bunch of countries. Like here.” So it was just as Rose said, and just what she feared.

“Is everyone in the UnSeelie court a butch like Miss Sonja?”

“If so then you're a butch. And Luther's a butch. What's a butch anyway?” Reeve scratched behind his ear and slouched on the couch.

“I'm UnSeelie?”

“How else can you walk around in the middle of February in that?” Reeve pointed to her shorts. “Which I approve of by the way.”

She hit his shoulder but they smiled. “Okay. UnSeelie. I know what to research now.”

“Speaking of which we have some books to give you on Faerie. Remind me later. Don't you have somewhere to be?” Josephine asked as she sat on the dusty arm chair and put down her things. Sibyl groaned.

“Work! I hate my life.”

“Did I tell you I got a job at the antique store too?”

“Beautiful. Now pick me up and take me.”

“You know I can do that. I'm serious.”

She considered this for a moment, then leaned on his lap. “Okay. Carry me away. Then let me sleep.”

“Carry you?” Westley asked, raising his head from the magazine. His eyes locked on Sibyl resting on Reeve's lap.

Reeve stood and pulled her up with him. Sibyl toppled into him, groaning at her heavy muscles.

“They worked you to the bone, eh?” He pulled her forward so she stood in front of him. Sibyl blew through her lips, limp in his strong hold. “Well come on. You can sleep in the car.”

“Get some food for dinner,” Josephine called.

“I vote donuts,” Sibyl mumbled.

“I second that notion.” Josephine raised her hand to vote.

“Okay princess. Come on.” Reeve instructed as he helped her out the door.

“I came in with a dooooonut hoooole. I just wanted to eeeaaaaaat them aaaaall,” Sibyl sang into the cold night.

Westley stood, watching, but said nothing. He sighed, turning back to his snacks and magazines.

[killergirlfuria]

Idk I had this thing written a while back as my reaction to episode 13, aka what Erika should have done or at least considered.

It’s a one-shot, and I do have a follow-up in progress, but I don’t know when - or if - I’ll have it done. You be the judge. Annd, ah, it’s un-beta’d. Sorry for any and all mistakes streaming from my laziness.

Important info; Erika is some 23 y/o, her familiar is a Crialak named Catnip, and she’s 1/8 fae. Her mom is 1/4, grandma 1/2, great-grandmother was the fairy - fae - whatever. Not quite important now, but will become relevant later.

Buut, without further ado!

price too high

All she can do, is tremble with fury and try, very much in vain, to stop low, choked growls coming out of her throat, as she hastily trots, almost breaking into full run, towards the corridor where her room is. Her palm stings with the force she used to slap Miiko, but all she can think is regret, that her hit was not stronger, that she did not send her flying.

It doesn’t hurt that much anyway. Not compared to the pulsating, blunt, hot-cold pain that spasms in her chest with waves so strong that she has to lean on the wall to not to fall face-first onto the ground. She feels like she’s choking, and her eyes burn, but not a single tear falls down. She clenches her fists, so hard that her nails dig into her palms and she feels blood trickle on her fingers. It’s a testament to how the pain that blossomed in her chest blinds her, that she realizes she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms only after she sees blood drop onto the floor beneath her feet.

She will not cry. She will not. She will not cave in to that suffocating urge to scream her throat raw, to claw at her eyes, at her neck, before all they are is just a bloody mess.

She just lost everything. To her own stupidity. Everything she was, everyone she had – gone. Even if she made it home, nobody would remember her.

Mom, dad – I’m so sorry.

She nearly choked on another spasm that had her sliding falling to the ground like her legs became jelly mass. She closed her eyes, and clenched her fists, grinding her teeth together so hard that had she been any more capable of logical thought, she’d fear crushing them with sheer force.

You’re an idiot, Erika, her mind whispered at her, and gods above, it was right. She was such an absolute and utter idiot to trust Nevra, to even help him with that potion and now-

Now she feels so dirty. Under all that righteous fury over entirety of her life, she nearly forgot just how disgusting the culmination moment was. Nevra, that bastard...! Oh how she would love to rip his face off right now. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he kiss her without her permission! It was assault, nothing more, nothing less.

She saved him. She saved his life.

Now she wishes she hadn’t.

So, so much. From the very bottom of her broken, bruised heart.

Erika takes a shallow, shaky breath through her clenched teeth and pushes to her feet, as if fueled by determination and fury alone. They, the guards, have cost her everything. Her life, her friends, her family – and after she did so much for them, tried so hard! After she had been so selfless!

...

But that’s the point, isn’t it? She allowed this to happen because she constantly worried if she wasn’t being selfish – and ended up too selfless.

As if wanting to be reunited with family, to return home, to a safe place, to people she know that loved her, to be far away from this dangerous, broken world was selfish. And it cost her everything. Entirety of her life.

Erika howls.

It’s a loud, furious and purely inhuman sounds that feels like it’s shattering the Headquarters building to it’s very core. She brings her fist onto the wall sideways, and doesn’t care that the force of the hit makes severe cracks where it hit, or that her nail wounds bleed more.

She just doesn’t care anymore.

All she is, is fury. At them. At her. At everything she did for them.

She didn’t even say goodbye. She just vanished. First from their lives, then from their memories.

Didn’t her feelings even matter anymore?

Maybe they never did.

She burst into her room slamming the door behind her, and Catnip meows meekly, looking at her master from under the bed, where she must’ve ran to. Erika looks down at her Ciralak familiar and gives the three-headed cat a week, watery smile that’s more of a grimace. Catnip is perhaps the only one not at fault, and Erika, however enraged she isn’t, doesn’t want to project her rage onto the cat.

(She always loved cats. Snowy was old Turkish Angora who passed away at old age of twenty, few months back. Erika finally managed to get mom to agree to get another cat, and they were going to the shelter next week to pick up a rescue, just like Snowy was-)

She can’t breathe.

Clawing at her throat, Erika falls to her knees, eyes wide, red claw marks blossoming at her pale skin, but she doesn’t care-

She.

Can’t.

BREATHE.

The scream that pierces the air is blood-chilling, long and equally as inhuman s the howl that shook the building to it’s very core.

Catnip presses her ears to her skulls, lowering all three heads down, and looks at her mistress with three pairs of yellow, frightened eyes, letting out small, pathetic meow. She doesn’t understand why, but her mistress appears to be in a great peril, and Catnip doesn’t know how to help. She’s afraid that even approaching would end bad, and she doesn’t like it.

She barely even recognizes her mistress, her kind, soft-spoken Erika who saved her from drowning as a kitten in this kneeling, screaming person on the ground.

And Erika screams, long and loud, until she can’t scream anymore, and if she sounds like a mortally wounded beast crying out in pain, so be it for all she cares! There might be pounding on her door, but she ignores it completely, hoping that whatever that is, the door will just remain closed and hold off whoever that is who wants to enter.

They do.

And Erika screams and screams and pounds the floor with her fists until there are holes in it, filled with the blood from her ruined, ruined hands, and then pounds some more, and before she knows, the blood is mixing with hot tears streaming from her eyes, and all she can do is weep, in sadness and pent-up fury.

She trusted them, and they betrayed her. In the worst way imaginable.

Her breaths are shallow, wet, and they somehow rattle in her lungs. But, at least, she isn’t in danger of suffocating anymore. And the pulsating pain in her chest is a little bit less vibrant. She doesn’t know if it’s because she let some of her emotions out by beating the floor raw, or because she’s getting used to it.

But she can form semi-logical thoughts now, through the clouds of fury and sadness. And all she wants to do, is get away. She doesn’t care where.

Just away. From them. From everything. Anywhere is good. Anywhere far away.

Erika springs to her feet with speed that startles Catnip, and fights dizziness and budding migraine, as she nearly tears her closet open, throwing a bag out onto the floor, and every article of clothing she possesses onto the bed. She doesn’t notice that she’s bleeding anymore, or that her hands, instead of being torn open, bloody and raw, are covered in soft, new, pink skin as she goes through the clothes she has. Realistically, she can’t take everything, it would be too much. And besides, during her stay in Headquarters, she acquired few articles of clothing that were simply pretty, but otherwise useless. Among the things she bought and those Catnip managed to drag from god-knows-were, she packs fast.

There are torn pants Catnip brought, few pairs actually, that she patched when she was bored. She folds pairs that have more earthy colors, and presses them into her bag, with exception of one pair which, after removing her rather tacky garments that Miiko gave her (she should burn them) she pulls on. Same with red, sleeveless turtleneck she pulls over her head, all the while bemoaning her idiocy at, while having two of these, they are either red or bright blue, instead of a more toned down color. She has a green bra-shirt-thing that she throws into her pack for hotter climate she might encounter. There are two-color tops, all flowing material, and she takes two-tone brown and gray-green ones, and a green, short-sleeved top with holes where shoulders are. There’s an armor breastplate that Purral gave her for few goods that covers only left half of her torso, but it’s the best armor piece she has, so there’s not much of a choice. There are two pairs of shorts with leaf-like buttons to the side, one green and one pink, and Erika promptly discards the pink, folding brown ones with sharp, fast movements and pressing down into growing pile of clothes in her bag. There are coats, that remind her of lab-coats, also from Purral, she thinks, as she kicks yellow one away in favor of grabbing the brown one and throwing it over her shoulders. There’s a crudely sown blouse from faded brown leather and pants to match, and-

Erika clenches her hands on black-and-blue cape to match the outfit Miiko gave her once, low growl budding in her throat that she doesn’t stop. She grabs shoulders of the material from the both sides, and yanks it forcefully apart, and the fabric gives in, splitting the coat in two pieces that land in different parts of the room.

Rest of the packing is very much a blur she watches from behind tears of renewed rage, as she folds quickly everything she has that might be useful in the life gods-know-where but definitely far away from here. Anything brown or green or gray, some blue things, some even red, fur-lined cloak and boots. She pulls dark, a bit worn, fingerless gloves over her palms and fastens dark boots that nearly reach her knee, and sighs. It’s late already, she concludes looking out of the window. Should she wait, or should she go now?

No. She should wait, she concludes, as she kicks remaining clothes, a kaleidoscope of color and soft fabric, onto the ground, laying her bag and sword on the soft surface. She sighs then, looking at the green-handled sword she got from Jamon. The big oaf will probably be one of the only she’ll remember fondly. Him and Mery, maybe Chrome and nobody else, maybe save for trade cats. But she has a feeling that she will run into Purral no matter what – that cat seems to be everywhere. It’s still not enough people to count on her fingers anyway.

Catnip jumps onto the bed, meowing at her softly, and Erika smiles crookedly, patting each head few times as in apology, not trusting her voice yet. What she has to do now, is sneak into the pantry, steal enough food to last her a longer while, and then sneak down to the Market to Purreu, to spend all her remaining currency at food for Catnip – and, after that, get the hell out of here.

She should perhaps feel bad for stealing food from them, but somehow she can’t really bring herself to care. If they can truly waste resources to let Karuto ‘experiments’, she’s not quite inclined to believe that their food has truly lost its nutrients. That, and it simply doesn’t make sense – she’s seen animals during her wandering around! In the forest, she seen squirrels and birds, and maybe a glimpse of a fox, when they were returning from Jade Coast she and Chrome swam with shoals of fish.

She’ll be fine.

She takes her hair tie, the one she came here with from home which she opts to not to think about, otherwise risking another breakdown, and ties her hair up in high, long ponytail. She clenches her hands, and looks at the door, nibbling at her bottom lip.

It’s risky, she knows, but she irks just to leave, and it’s about to be dark soon anyway. Taking deep breath, Erika moves over to the door, hands still shaking from rage she still feels burning in her stomach but not enough to cloud her judgement fully anymore, and steps into the corridor. Swallowing soundly, she closes her door and prays, to whatever would listen.

Don’t see me. I want to vanish. Make me invisible.

The first person that passes her, one she doesn’t recognize, doesn’t notice her at all. They just pass by, and she’s right there, and they don’t even glance at her. Erika stares after them, and then at her palms, and then forward. The walk to the kitchen is fast, and every person she passes completely and utterly ignores her. She doesn’t know how, or why, but it doesn’t mean she isn’t going to take complete advantage of the situation.

She brings almost more than she can carry, carefully selected to not need overly long or complex preparations. That, and a knife she wraps with straps from one of her discarded outfits and slides into her shoe, and a sharpener for it. Having pushed everything into her bag, Erika takes it and motions Catnip close, before picking up the cat, too.

“Sit on my shoulder, okay? And hold on tight,” she says, and her voice breaks in very pathetic manner, and she feels like crying again, but she takes few shaky, shallow breaths and blinks tears away, before opening her window. It’s a high drop, and it will be hard on her knees, most likely, but she can’t find it in her to care. So she heaves her legs over the windowsill and drops down, turning in mid-air, catching the windowsill back with her hands in the last moment, dangling from it, before letting go again and landing in crouch, about three times her height below her window. It’s not as bad as she thought it would be.

She looks at the sky painted in palette of oranges an purples, and casts her eyes down, onto the Market, before taking off in that direction in fast-paced trot, Catnip dutifully behind her. It doesn’t take long to locate Purreru.

He also doesn’t seem to notice her, until she actually approaches him. Huh.

“Hello Erika!” he says happily. “Is there anything you need? You don’t look to well, shouldn’t you go to infirmary?” he asks in concerned vice. Erika’s sigh sounds more like screech of un-oiled door as she shakes her hand, and points at Catnip.

“Oh, you want Cady Corns? How many?”

Erika takes out her coin purse and completely empties it on the counter. Purreru blinks owlishly at her, before huffing.

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, and I don’t like it, but I like you, and I know you need it,” he says, grabbing the money and showing it into his finance box, before retrieving a rather large bag from the back of his shop. “Here, there should be enough for four moons for your pet. Five, if you’re careful.”

Erika nods gratefully, accepting the bag, because she knows that with her savings, she could’ve afforded about two months’ worth of food, if that. She appreciates gesture. She’s about to leave, but she stops, and looks at Purreru, who looks back. Erika sniffs before kneeling and hugging the cat tightly. He pats her on the back, somewhat awkwardly.

“I’ll miss you,” she manages to choke out in breaking voice, before grabbing her bags and sword and breaking into run towards the Grand Gate.

She doesn’t go there. While she didn’t manage it before, she knows she won’t be lucky with the door this time, so she makes detour to the fountain, where she tried to climb up before, when she was still... Attracted, by Yvoni’s call. She looks up at the wall, white marble standing out starkly in very rapidly darkening atmosphere. It doesn’t frighten her. She moves one leg back, hunches forward, gripping her bags slung on her shoulder, and breaks, nearly instantly into full sprint, scalding the wall with ease, running to half of it and then digging into the stone deeply with her nails, climbing to the top. Sometime during it, Catnip pounces at her and gets dragged up, handing from Erika’s brown coat.

She stands on the top of the wall, looking back at the starkly white building of the Headquarters, and sighs. It’s, most likely, the very last time she sees it. There’s no place for her here, that much she realizes. Except, she thinks bitterly, they could’ve told me I’m not wanted here, instead of wiping memories of everyone I knew and loved to drive me away.

“Erika?” she doesn’t bolt towards the forest, but it’s a near thing. Instead, her entire body stiffens, as she looks down at the fountain, and surely enough, Leiftan is there, looking at her with worry in his eyes.

She liked him. She liked most of them, but he stood out the most. She might’ve been developing crush on him, even. It was dangerous, but it could’ve made her stay here. If she had someone to stay for – because she had great many someones to go back for. And now it all was ruined. Broken. She couldn’t stay here. And even if she returned home, nobody would remember her. It was lose-lose situation.

“So I am remembered,” she sneers bitterly, and her voice doesn’t break. “If I only was by those who matter.”

“Erika, please-“

“Oh do be quiet!” she scoffs, clenching her fists. “You succeeded. I took the potion. Everybody who cared for me, everybody who mattered – for them, there’s no Erika anymore. I have nobody to go back for. And you’ve finally made it clear – that I have nothing to stay here for either! Really, was it so hard to just tell me to get lost, go and die in the forest? No, you had to ruin my life!”

At this point she’s yelling, but she doesn’t care. If she attracts other people – doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore, not really. Leiftan looks at her for a moment, eyes wide, as if shocked, and then there’s sadness in them, borderline grief, and it makes Erika almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“This is not what we wanted,” he says, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side. He looks miserable, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It isn’t? Because I got a feeling that this is exactly what you wanted,” Erika snarls, pacing back and forth on the top of the wall like a caged predator. “What do you want.”

“You don’t have to leave-“ Leiftan tries, but Erika cuts him off with a laugh. It’s raspy, sharp and so very, very bitter.

“And what, remain here? Surrounded by traitors who will do as they please, even if- Especially if it means erasing over two decades worth of my life? Who will treat me like an object almost, a slave – keep secrets from me, make my life decisions for me?” she snaps. “I do admit it’s partially my fault. Especially for being dumb enough to trust you lot in the first place, but I was lost and confused, and you extended a hand, yadda, yadda. Honestly, I should’ve left the second I got out of the dungeon! Hell, I would have, wasn’t I so confused!”

“That’s not true!” the man argues, and Erika scoffs. “You are liked here! You do have friends! They care!”

“LIAR!” she screams hoarsely. “Liar, liar, liar! Lies! When people do care, they don’t ruin lives of those they care for! They don’t betray their trust in the worst way possible! They don’t keep disgusting secrets from each other! Not secrets like those!”

“I care,” he tries weakly, and Erika bristles, both at him and her memories, flashing before her eyes. When he saved her from drowning, or all the times they talked, the times she got him to blush, or that time when his Panalulu ravaged her room and he was so adorably apologetic-

No.

She can’t. Not now. Not ever.

The bile in her throat never tasted so bitter.

“Well, I don’t,” Erika scoffs. “I do hope Miiko was sufficiently amused by ruining my life, and having her pet vampire assault me in order to have me ingest the potion. I sincerely regret saving his life. Also I sincerely regret not breaking her jaw when I had occasion. Goodbye.”

And with that, she grabs Catnip and drops down on the other side of the wall, instantly taking off towards the forest in full sprint and paying no heed to Leiftan crying out her name.

What will she do, she doesn’t know. Right now, she doesn’t care. All she wants is to get away. Being here has already cost her too much. It was a price too high to pay, and it broke something in her, deep down.

The pulsating, suffocating, hot pain in her chest still won’t go away.

[hyperfixation-station-1234]

Peace Talks

From Slow Burn 

More Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Sorry one took so long! I just started a second job and it’s been an adjustment. I’ll try and get the next one out soon! Thanks for all the love everyone<3

“Elain, you don’t have to come,” Feyre was looking at her like she was about to break.

Elain smiled at her sister, “I want to be there and see this through. I’ve been involved from the beginning and I won’t shrink away from my part in this.”

Of course, she didn’t have to go to the peace negotiations between Fae and Humans. Feyre, Rhys, and Nesta were the only three from the Night Court that were truly needed. Yet, Elain couldn’t shake the feeling that it was crucial she went. And it wasn’t as if she was the only other extra from the Night Court. It was a given that Mor, Cassian, and Azriel would go as well. Even if Amren wasn’t currently vacationing in the Summer Court she doubted she would’ve been accompanying the party.

It was because of Graysen and Lucien, that Feyre was worried for her. The fall out of her engagement with Graysen was… difficult to think about. The future she envisioned with him was a fairy tale. Her hopes had been strangled lifeless by his cold indifference to her and his harsh judgement of not only her, but her loved ones. She hadd let herself fall deep, deep, deep into a pit of nothing. She was numb, and that useless yearning for a life that could never happen had gotten her kidnapped and had put Feyre and Azriel in danger.

Lucien was an entirely different story. The possibilities of a future with Lucien were always present. Yet, even with the bond, that physical link she could feel, there was something missing. Elain couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t that he repulsed her or that he wasn’t a good person. She had grown to know him, and she enjoyed his company. But her body was telling her that the bond was good while her heart and mind weren’t agreeing. She knew Rhys had told her mating bonds were supposed to be for equals. While she was just learning of her abilities and the power she had been given, in mind and in spirit she didn’t think she could give him what he needed. And she didn’t believe he could give her what she needed, either. She would have to do something about it. Something soon.

Elain, however, would not let either of these things intimidate her. She was free and she was strong. It was she who had helped save this world, she who could see the future, and she who had brought the King of Hybern to his knees. Hers would not bend to anyone’s will but her own from now on.

When Feyre continued to stare at her like she was about to fall apart she blurted out, “Where you all go, I’ll go. Who knows, maybe I’ll be of some use in the negotiations. I was human once, too. Now, will you help me find a dress?” Feyre smiled, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. Elain knew she couldn’t convince her sister she would be fine, not until she could show her she was.

Elain still had no idea where any of her clothes came from. She suspected Cerridwen and Nuala. They were a perfect mix of the colors and softness she loved before with the daring cuts and elegance of her new life at the Night Court. Feyre helped her choose a dress of nude chiffon with sleeves ending just above her wrists. It was embroidered with detailed birds and trees in dark blue and bold black and flowers in soft blues, pinks, and yellows. Her hair was left loose and free, save the small portion Nesta had braided earlier and pinned in a small crown a top her head. Feyre approved, dressed in her own gown of glittering blue black and a crown of sparkling diamonds in the form of stars and moons.

They descended the stairs to the first floor. Rhys was the first she saw. His eyes glued only to his High Lady, his love. Elain could only feel happiness warm her body when she saw such love for her sister. Love she deserved and had fought for. No words were exchanged and she knew they were having a conversation the rest of them couldn’t hear. Feeling like a voyeur she moved her attention to the others.

Like always, Azriel was the first she sought out. His face was unreadable while his shadows swirled furiously. His eyes trailed her while she walked towards him, settling by his side. She let her eyes trail him right back. He was dressed in his Illyrian leathers as usual, with Truthteller ever present at his side. His hair just brushing his collar, his eyes blazing more gold than hazel.

As she reached his side, she teased, “Why did I have to wear something so nice while you get to go in standard attire?”

He smiled knowingly. It wasn't a secret from anyone that Elain loved to wear pretty dresses.

He looked down at her and smiled, “You look,” she blushed when his eyes roamed over her again, “… very beautiful, Elain.”

Just as she was about to say thank you, Rhys called to Azriel, who was to arrive first. Even in times of peace, Azriel had explained to her once, it was still necessary to take precautions. She felt his hand settle once the small of her back, before he started moving away from her. Quickly, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, a silent reminder to be careful. She had gotten into the habit of doing so when she knew he was leaving for a mission. He smiled at her over his shoulder before he vanished into shadows.

Not even a minute later, Rhys pulled Elain into his side with Feyre on his other. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was stepping onto her family’s estate in the human realm. She felt Rhys give her shoulder a quick squeeze and stepped out from his side, letting her sister and her mate to be the first to walk into the meeting. Mor followed closely behind. She took in the replica of her their old mansion before her. She felt Azriel sidle up to her side. Without looking, she knew his arm was out and ready, so she took it.

It was decided that the Archeron property would be the meeting location of all further negotiations between the Fae and the Humans. Nesta had seen to the rebuilding of the home. She and Cassian had worked tirelessly to restore the marbled black and white floors, the hearths, the walls. As they entered the house her eyes soaked in the mural of Prythian that Feyre had painted on the wall. They had converted from the dining room into a larger area to accommodate meetings such as these. It was the first time she’d seen the building finished.

Only now it didn’t quite feel like home anymore. It didn’t hold the same weight in her heart it once did. Instead of making her sad, it made her yearn for the townhouse, the open gardens, and the salty breeze wafting from the Sidra.

Around the large, round table constructed in the middle sat Kallias, Vivian, and Thesan. Apparently, it was habit for them to always be the early arrivals. When the other lords and their entourage started to enter the room one after another, doubt started to creep into her mind. Maybe coming wasn’t such a good idea. What good could she really provide for this meeting? She hadn’t realized that she had been gripping Azriel’s arm so hard until his other hand smoothed over hers clutching onto his arm bracer. She felt Azriel lean toward her and whisper, “You belong here, if not more than most the people in this room, El. Don’t let them intimidate you.” Slowly the tension started to leave her shoulders. When she looked up at his face, his hazel eyes were filled with certainty and his shadows only a wisp around his ear, she drew the confidence he shared with her into her soul. She wondered if that was what he always told himself when he was forced to be around the Illyrian camps as Azriel pulled a chair out for her next to Nesta.

In the door way, she saw a familiar flash of red hair and the russet gold eye of Lucien. A lot had happened since he found out he was Helion's son. He had left to learn what he could of his unknown talents. Apparently curse breaking was in his blood as well as fire. And instead of coming back to the Night Court, he left for Vassa’s court. He had told Feyre before he left that he owed it to her to try and help free her from her curse. He looked good. And happy. He inclined his head toward her, giving a soft smile, which she returned.

Even though she was starting to embrace her life as High Fae, there were still members of the Prythian Courts that she would avoid given the chance. All of whom were currently in this room. Tamlin, and any male from the Autumn Court made her wary, until she had the mind to remember the male standing directly behind her, not to mention any of the members of the Night Court were there with her. And even she could hold her own in a sparring match. She wasn’t as good as the rest of them yet, but she had time. She knew she was improving.

When the humans arrived, she found it wasn’t entirely too difficult to see Graysen among them, dressed in a full suit of armor like he was going to war instead of a peace talk. Elain had never been one for displays of disapproval, yet she had the extreme urge to roll her eyes. She looked back at Azriel and saw him smirking, like he knew she thought the extreme measures Graysen and his father took weren’t only ridiculous, but showed a blatant lack of effort to put forward into trusting the Fae. He didn’t even look at any of them. Peace talks, indeed.

Graysen appeared different than when we last saw him at the end of the Battle against the King of Hybern. That warm spark she remembered in his eyes wasn’t there. She tried to see him as a man she once loved and found it difficult. It had been weeks since she had taken off the ring he had given her. She had tossed it in a drawer, not quite sure what to do with it. She certainly wasn't giving it back to him.

She felt rather than heard Azriel moving closer to the back of her chair. The eyes of her sisters were trained on her and she smiled at them both. She was okay. With her family surrounding her, she could only be okay.

The meeting started by speaking of the threat of not only the human kingdoms on the continent, but of the Fae kingdoms across the sea. The death of the King of Hybern had left his kingdom open for siege. Azriel had spoken quietly in the meeting with the inner circle of their movement. They were getting ready for something big. Most likely, they were going to attempt to take Hybern. The only thing separating these kingdoms from Hybern was Prythian. And Prythian needed a chance to stand on solid ground if they were to oppose what was coming.

The next discussion was on the topic of the human refugees that were still staying in the Courts. Would they stay if they wished? Would they be forced out of the kingdoms that they had been staying in for months, only to go back to a desolated village they once called home? Surprisingly, Tamlin was the first to announce his borders would be open for the humans to cross into and live. Of course, the Summer and the Night Court were also willing to open their borders.

The trouble came when the issue of progress of reconstruction in the Human Realm.

Nesta, being the emissary from the Night Court to the human realm, was justified in asking just how much progress had been made.

Sir Nolan was not forthcoming. Instead he sneered, “Why do you want to know? If you deem us weak, will you take our land as well?”

Nesta didn’t even react, but the air in the room buzzed Elain saw a flicker of red and turned to see Cassian’s hand tighten on the back of Nesta’s chair.

Straightening her back and lifting her chin. Elain lifted her voice, trying to placate him, “She was only asking because we can help. There are plenty of people, Human and Fae, willing to be put to work. More hands are better than less. Working together can only be a positive thing for us all, especially with what the future holds.”

Feyre, sitting on her opposite side reached down and squeezed her knee. Elain couldn’t tell if it was in approval or pity. Because the next words that were spoken to her weren’t nice. They were vicious.

It wasn’t Lord Nolan who said them, but Graysen.

“How are you going to do that? Sleep with and promise yourself to a male from every Court and Realm in Prythian? You’ve a good start with a Lord’s son as a mate and a male from the Night Court.”

To her credit, Elain knew her face was just as pleasant as before the comment. Even though it was embarrassing and humiliating, she kept her head high. She didn’t cower like she would have previously. In the next second, she heard Lucien growl from across the table, then she felt utter darkness leaking into the air around the room. Enormous pressure built. She didn’t have to turn around to know Azriel’s eyes were blazing gold and his syphons were shining boldly. Even as the room darkened, Elain didn’t feel uncomfortable or scared. No, as the blood drained from Graysen and his father’s faces, she only felt the shadows support and give her strength. Quietly, dangerously Azriel said, “Speak to her like that again and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out and nail it to the table.”

Those words were so at odd with anything she’d ever heard him say. Azriel had always been kind and steadfast, she’d rarely seen him lose his temper. This version of him was terrifying, but not to her. It made her stomach flutter, not drop with fear. The wooden chair behind her groaned under the pressure of his tightening hands. She was always comfortable in his darkness and to show him she reached her hand back and touched his leg. The muscles of his thigh clenched and stretched out under her fingers. Then, in the next heartbeat his shadows receded. The room was clear again and the pressure had subsided. Azriel’s fingers interlaced with her own, his fingertips felt icy where hers felt warm and the heat from her hand quickly transferred to his.

Graysen voice quaked, “You can’t do that. There’s a treaty that protects anyone in this room.”

Instead of responding, Azriel’s gaze locked onto Graysen across the table. She heard a throat clear and pulled her head toward the man standing in the corner behind Vassa. Jurian scowled at Graysen, “Boy, he doesn’t give a shit about the treaty. Frankly none of us do. I certainly wouldn’t stop him.”

Lucien’s smile had turned wicked, “He’ll take your tongue, but I’ll find something else to take from you.” Elain hoped he was saying that out of fondness and not because he felt he had to.

Her hand was no longer holding Azriel’s but wisps of his shadows lingered, intertwined with her fingers. Elain softly spoke, keeping her voice from shaking, “The war may be over for now, but there are still people hurting, who need to restore their lives. The quickest way to getting Prythian to prosper is restoration, and the quickest way to restore is to help one another. One doesn’t have to see the future to know the outcome if we don’t come to each other’s aid.”

An elderly human lord, who she did not recognize, nodded his head, “My people could very well use the help of the famous Archeron sisters. We would be in your debt.”

Smiling softly, Elain inclined her head to the lord, as did Nesta and Feyre. The Night Court may be the farthest from the human realm, but Elain knew that no effort would be spared on their part to restore Prythian again. And just so, two more lords accepted the invitation to share in the restoration. Kallias, Tarquin, Rhysand, and even Tamlin had all agreed to the exchanging help with human lords. Thesan and Helion didn’t have much damage so the exchange wasn’t necessary on their parts. Elain figured Beron didn’t agree based on principal of needing to be difficult.

When all topics were exhausted at the end of the meeting, few things were truly solved. Yet, there was progress in some areas. Centuries of mistrust and prejudices cannot be undone in a day. But Elain had hope for what was to come for Prythian. Even in the face of possible danger, they could all bring real peace to their world.

When the meeting was over, Elain walked out of the room arm and arm with Feyre. Sometimes it was strange to imagine that she was older than her sister. Feyre had always been an old soul. Elain had certainly never acted like it she was older. But now they had time to mend what had been strained between all three of them. She felt Rhys’ long arm drape around them both and settle over her head.

“Well done, Elain,” he told her. She saw Feyre’s lips tip up in a smirk. In the next second Rhys took her arm and spun her away and into Azriel’s side standing off to the right. Her hands landed on his chest and his hands came up to hold her elbows.

Azriel spoke quietly so that only she could hear, “It a good thing you’re naturally graceful.”

“I know, isn’t it?” Most people would have guessed she was just responding, but she knew Azriel could hear the dry sass in the voice of her response. He was the only one who could recognize it.

“And very humble,” he nodded to her solemnly, yet his eyes twinkled with humor.

And then standing in the foyer of her old home she saw it.

The vision came so abruptly, she froze. She was lying on a chaise in the garden, but she wasn’t alone. Tan and toned arms were wrapped around her waist. Those arms could have belonged to many people. But not those hands. They were scarred and they were beautiful, holding her tightly against the body attached to them. Large wings were shading her from the midday sun. His voice whispered into her hair, “Go back to sleep, Sunshine. I’ve got you.” In the vision, she turned to stare into the eyes of the male laying behind her.

Instead she found herself in the present moment, with the same man. And Elain wasn’t scared. She had known for some time what her heart yearned for. Who it yearned for. But it wasn’t the right time. Not when she hadn’t talked to Lucien. And certainly, not when she didn’t know if his feelings were the same as hers yet.

Azriel eyes darted to and fro between hers, “A vision?”

She could only breathe, “Yes.”

Azriel’s gaze turned inquisitive, “Is it something I should know?”

“No, not yet.”

His face softened and he nodded. She loved that he trusted her. She knew her visions could provide a useful boon to the Spymaster of the Night Court, but she knew he asked because he also cared. He knew what it was like to hear voices, to see strange things that weren’t there.

She must have been staring at him in a weird way because he quirked an eyebrow at her, “What’s wrong with my face?’

Elain laughed, and patted his cheek, “Absolutely nothing. It’s perfectly handsome. Rhys has a contender for best looking.

Of in the distance, I heard that, was shouted by their most illustrious High Lord.

Chuckling he extended his arm to her, yet again. Ever chivalrous.

There were many things needed to be done. Many important discussions needed to be had. Not today, but soon.

Elain clasped his arm between her hands as they disappeared.

[wordsaremything]

The Spring Court– Part 2

Summary: Feyren is trapped, but not a prisoner, as he becomes a familiar face around Tamsin's lovely manor. She gives him the first rose of spring, and he hears the word Calanmai for the first time.

Part of Feyren and Friends genderbent AU series.

4076 words.

The halls were silent and empty, strange for such a large estate. The High Fae females had mentioned others before, and there was evidence of cleanliness and things like cooks and stable hands, but I’ve seen no one in my exploring. However, walking around the Spring Court was admittedly nothing short of pleasant. The breeze floated through the open windows –did they ever close?– and brought with it the scent of various flowers and the sounds of birdsongs.

Alix had found me early in the morning after my failed attempts of escape. I had ruined the curtains in my room trying to tie them together, after ripping and ripping to try to make a rope long enough. Truthfully it was only half-hearted… it seemed as though Tamsin was trying.

She started to give me pathetic little compliments if I ever ran into her during the day. She commented on my hair looking washed, bruises from drawing a bowstring healing on my arms, clothes fitting well. Although they didn’t quite make me feel complimented, per say, they did tell me that she wasn’t entirely wicked. She didn’t bring me here to torture me or to leave me with a faerie to devour. I was trapped, but I was no prisoner.

When I asked Alix what I was supposed to do with the rest of my mortal life here, he just laughed at me and said I should try taking a walk. If he was being serious or joking at my being wound-up was yet to be determined.

Before I left I asked him what this place was. Where it was. He said it was safe and that was all I needed to know. Tamsin’s power and protection only goes so far, so I should keep my wits about me.

My walk was more than something to stave off boredom now; it was a way to glean some sense into my surroundings. Maybe there was someone here who would plead my case to Tamsin. She said she was helping my family but she would not go into details about what kind of help she provided. And it was making me crazy.

I was almost to the grand staircase when I noticed the paintings.

I hadn’t let myself look before, when I was so on edge, but now in the empty hall with no one to see me… a flash of color amid a shadowy, gloomy background made me stop, a blossom of color and texture that compelled me to the gilded frame.

It’s just a still life, I told myself, but couldn’t help it when I reached up to run my hand over the canvas. It was just a green vase of drooping flowers with a black background. Some would call it boring, but an artist would know the talent it took to craft this. Every blossom was different– not only in flower type, but in color, size, and shape. Roses, tulips, morning glory, goldenrod, peonies… white peonies.

I hadn’t painted anything in a long time. It’s been years and years since we could afford things like paint, except for the one time Elaric had splurged at the market and come home with paints for me. I had put personal touches all over the cottage that week, like tiny murals. But even that was ages ago.

I could have stared at the painting for hours, or at any of the others hanging on the walls, but I had plans. To scope the gardens. The grounds.

I moved on. Seeing all these paintings made me feel off . Too comfortable. Art was too… human. Even if the High Fae were gentler than I had been led to believe my whole life, I still didn’t belong here. Maybe there was a way to convince Alix that it was wrong of the Treaty to summon me here. Perhaps he had some sort of sway or knew of any loophole to get me out of this debt–

“You,” someone said, and I halted my steps. In the light of the open glass doors to the garden, a shapely female figure stood silhouetted before me.

Tamsin. She wore those warrior’s clothes, cut close to show off her toned body, and three simple knives were now sheathed in her baldric– each one enough to look like it could shred me just as easily as her beast’s claws. Her blonde hair was tied away from her face, revealing those pointed ears and that strange, beautiful mask. “Where are you going?” she said, more of a demand than a question. You– I wondered if she remembered my name.

It took me a moment to focus again. “Good morning,” I said flatly. It was a better greeting than You. Tamsin lifted her chin. “You said to spend my time however I wanted. I didn’t realize I was under house arrest.”

Her jaw tightened. “Of course you’re not under house arrest.” Even as she bit out the words, I couldn’t ignore the sheer female beauty of the full lips, rosy cheeks, the richness of her golden-tan skin. She was probably lovely– if she ever took off that mask.

When she realized I wasn’t going to reply, she grit her teeth. “Do you want a tour?”

“No, thank you,” I managed to get out, conscious of my every awkward body movement as I edged around her.

She stepped into my path, and ended up so close she conceded a step back. “I’ve been sitting inside all morning. I need some fresh air.”

“I’m fine,” I said, casually dodging her, “You’ve… been generous enough.” I tried to sound like I meant it.

A half smile, not so pleasant, graced her features. “Do you have some sort of problem with me?” I was taken aback by the sheer command in her voice. No metallic tang, so she wasn’t using any magic there, she was just compelling. No doubt unused to being denied.

“No,” I said quietly, and walked through the doors.

She let out a low snarl. “I’m not going to kill you, Feyren. I don’t break my promises.”

I stumbled a bit on the garden steps, and I would have eaten concrete if I hadn’t been careful. I turned and stared at her. She stood there at the top, her hands folded behind her, looking solid and statuesque. “I heard you. But I don’t think harming is part of the Treaty. Is that a loophole in your plan? One that Lucia might use against me– or anyone else here?” I added.

“They’re under orders not to touch you.”

“Yet I’m still trapped in your realm, for breaking a rule I didn’t know existed. Why was your friend in the woods that day? I thought the Treaty banned you from our lands.”

She just stared at me. Perhaps I’d questioned her too much. She took a step down, closer to me, and fear shot unwelcome through me. For all the game I talked she could get a rise out of me with a mere fluid movement. And I think she knew it.

“The Treaty,” she said quietly, “Doesn’t keep us from doing anything, except enslaving you. The wall is an inconvenience. If we cared to, we could shatter it and march through to kill you all.”

I might be forced to live in Prythian, but my family… I dared to ask, “And do you care to destroy the wall?”

She looked me up and down, as if deciding whether I was worth the effort of explaining. “I have no interest in the mortal lands, though I can’t speak for my kind.”

“Then what was Andra doing there?” I continued, more confident that she hadn’t shut me down. She hadn’t answered my question.

But then, Tamsin stilled, if that were possible. Such unearthly, primal grace, even in her breathing. “There is… a sickness in these lands. Across Prythian. There has been for nearly fifty years now. It is why this house and these lands are so empty; most have left. The blight spreads slowly, but it has made magic act… strangely. My own powers are diminished due to it. These masks” –she tapped hers– “are the result of a surge of it that occurred during a masquerade forty-nine years ago. Even now, we can’t remove them.”

Stuck in masks– for nearly fifty years. I would have gone mad, would have peeled my skin right off my face. “You didn’t have a mask as the beast. Neither did your friend,” I said.

“The blight is cruel like that.”

Either live with a mask or live as a beast. “What… what sort of sickness is it?”

“It’s not a disease– not a plague or illness. It’s focused solely on magic, on those dwelling in Prythian. Andra was across the wall that day because I sent her for a cure.”

“Can it hurt humans?” My stomach twisted. “Will it spread over the wall?”

“Yes,” she said, “There is… a chance of it affecting mortals, and your territory. More than that, I don’t know. It’s slow moving so your kind is safe for now. We haven’t had any progression in decades… it’s been weakened by our magic.” That she’d even say so much to me spoke volumes of how she imagined my future: I was never going home, never going to encounter another human to whom I might spill this secret vulnerability.

“A mercenary told me she believed the faeries are thinking of attacking.”

A hint of a smile, perhaps surprised. “Do you talk to mercenaries often?”

“I’ll speak to anyone who gives me valuable information.” I said. Her smile widened. “Is it related?”

She lifted a shoulder, the most casual thing I’d ever seen her do. “I don’t know.”

I swallowed and nodded mutely, and then turned away. Flowers, gardens, a walk. I had something to do. I didn’t hear her behind me, but she did say, “I might take an animal form, Feyren, but I am civilized.”

So she did remember my name. But I looked pointedly ahead of me.

She knew I wasn’t going to reply. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she snapped, and then it was followed by the sharp slam of the garden door.

It wasn’t a request. I strode off between the hedges, not caring where I was going, only that she didn’t come with me.

A sickness in their lands, affecting their magic, draining it from them. We’d be defenseless against it. And the High Fae didn’t seem to care.

At dinner one night I was alone with Lucia. I had been keeping careful count of the days I’d been trapped here– thirteen. Just under two weeks. Tamsin’s been gone for the last three. No one would tell me where she went.

Alix said the house was safe, but warned me to keep my wits about me– to a point. What might lurk beyond the house that might be able to use my own senses against me? Just how far would Tamsin’s order not to harm me stretch? How much authority did she hold?

Lucia paused, a goblet halfway to her mouth, and I found her smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. “Were you admiring my sword or just contemplating killing me, Feyren?”

“Of course not,” I said softly.

She snorted and finished off all her wine. “I would be more inclined to believe you if you said you were admiring my tits,” she commented.

My cheeks turned pink and I stared anywhere but at Lucia. I was no stranger to the pleasures of a woman, but I never, ever, considered looking at either High Fae in that way. Some human women got testy when men looked at them the wrong way, I couldn’t even imagine what faerie females would do.

Steps echoed into the room. “Do you really think so low of him?” Tamsin crossed the room, startling me, and Lucia’s shoulders squared. The former plopped into her usual chair and grabbed a cup to fill with wine.

She took a sip and looked at the redhead. “Well?”

“He’s a male human,” Lucia said, “They don’t have a society like ours. Their world is run solely by kings, you know.”

Tamsin moved her emerald gaze from her emissary to me, and a rock settled in my stomach. “I don’t think he sees us as conquests,” she said softly, and I looked over to meet her gaze, “This is our land. He knows it. No matter how deadly he thinks it is.”

Lucia turned her head and sized me up. I forced myself to look away from the High Lady and to her. Her red hair glowed in the firelight, and her slight form was hugged nicely by her choice in clothing, but it was true. She was a fox and I was… a worm, but her standards.

“At least you’re not a pig,” she admitted. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. That was almost a compliment. I looked over at Tamsin, and she was already smiling. Less vicious, more lazy, as if she was expecting this conversation when she walked in. Act civilized, behave, possibly win her to my side… I could do that.

Tamsin broke the silence. “Feyren likes to hunt.”

“I don’t like to.” I should probably use a more polite tone with the whole winning her over thing. “It was necessity. And how do you know?”

Tamsin’s stare was incredulous. She pulled her hair out from its confines on the back of her head, and it fell in straight golden locks down the back of her neck, across her forehead. “What else were you doing in the woods that day? You had a bow and arrows in your home. When I saw your father’s hands I knew he wasn’t the one doing anything. You told him about rations and money.” She waved one of her own hands and adjusted herself so that she was now lounging in her chair. “Faeries may be many things, but we’re not stupid. Unless your ridiculous legends claim that about us too.”

I hadn’t felt like anything but a based man until that moment. Back to being just another human. Ridiculous, insignificant.

I went back to staring at my plate. I could have bought so much with just one of the fine china plates– a house, a field, draft horses and a plow. Disgusting.

Lucia cleared her throat. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Nineteen.” Pleasant, civilized…

She tsked. “So young, and so grave. And a skilled killed already.”

I tightened my hands into fists. She talked to me like I was a child, and though we looked to be all from the same generation, compared to her I was the same age as a child. An immortal at the age of nineteen might still be suckling for all I know. I wanted to fight back but… docile, unthreatening, tame. I was pleasant. I was thankful for their hospitality.

“So is this what you do with your immortal lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave pointed glances to Tamsin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucia’s sword.

Lucia smirked. “We also dance with spirits under the full moon and snatch human babies and replace them with changelings–”

“Didn’t…” Tamsin interrupted, her voice surprisingly gentle, “didn’t your mother tell you anything about us?”

I loosened my fists and instead balled them in my tunic. “She didn’t have time to tell me stories,” I said quietly.

Lucia, for once, didn’t laugh. After a rather stifled pause, Tamsin asked, “How did she die?” When I lifted my brows, she added a bit more softly, “I didn’t see signs of a woman in your house.”

Predator or not, I didn’t need her pity. But I said, “Typhus. When I was eight.” I rose from my seat to leave.

“Feyren,” Tamsin said, and I half turned. A muscled feathered in her cheek.

Lucia glanced between us, the metal eye roving, but kept silent. Then Tamsin shook her head, the movement more animal than anything, and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I tried to keep myself from grimacing as I turned and left. I didn’t need her condolences or her pity or her anything. I could be pleasant. I was doing well at being pleasant. But we didn’t have to be friends.

I wandered through the sunny gardens one morning after breakfasting by myself. The two High Fae females had been gone for two days now, where they wouldn’t tell me, but I guess I really didn’t need to know. I have learned that I was completely clueless about how their world worked, and they must know that I didn’t have to trust them to stay here. Pleasant had got me less probing.

It was dangerous outside the manor. But I had been here long enough now to know that Tamsin and Lucia weren’t going to do me any harm.

“There you are,” said a voice from above me, and I was so startled she started to laugh. Lucia was lounging in the tree branches right above me, her arms crossed and one leg dangling into the open air below her. “Tam’s been looking for you,” she told me. She looked out of place among the vibrant green leaves. She wore a dress, a long one, like a lady would wear, but it was hitched up past her knees. It matched her fox mask perfectly.

“What does she need me for?”

Lucia shrugged. She plucked a green leaf from the tree and then watched it flutter from her hand. I stepped out of the way so it wouldn’t land right on my nose, and she laughed again. Then, in a fluid motion, she jumped down from the tree and stood before me. I wondered what she was up to today, wearing a burnished gold dress and her hair braided carefully away from her face. None of the usual tendrils in her eyes. Now that she was close to me, I could see that her face was painted too. Khoal around her eyes, red coloring to her lips.

“When did you get back?” I asked her.

“This morning,” she replied and sneered, looking away. That simple motion told me that her frustration was not at me. “Unfortunately just in time for a meeting. Logistics, nothing special.”

That was new information. Neither she nor Tamsin had ever shared any of their work with me, besides the small number of patrols with Lucia I had rode on. I tried to hide my surprise. “Um, logistics for what?” I dared a question more.

“Calanmai,” said Lucia, “Only a couple more weeks away.”

I furrowed my brows. I had never heard that word before. Lucia looked back over at me and studied my confused expression, then she rolled her eyes. I gave her a look, now letting myself be openly annoyed whenever she went back to the stupid human mentality. “Fire Night. The official beginning of spring. It’s a holiday, and the Spring Court takes it very seriously for obvious reasons. Some lesser faerie lords are coming today to talk some things over with Tamsin.”

“Here to the manor?” I asked her, panic blooming in my chest. No lesser faeries knew about me, save for the few villages on the border I’d seen with Lucia.

She shook her head. “No, there’s a meeting place beyond the grounds, an old temple no one uses anymore. Tamsin wasn’t about to have any of those fools in here with you around.”

Oh. If I’m interpreting Lucia’s words correctly then Tamsin had taken my safety into account. It wasn’t just to keep me isolated like I would have thought when they both disappeared again.

“Lucia.” We both were drawn to the soft voice at the glass manor door, and Tamsin was there. Looking at her was like a swift punch to the gut. She had also ditched the warrior’s clothing, and now wore a gown of rich green the same shade of the emeralds on her mask. Her hair was curled delicately around her face, and a small golden crown sat atop her head. “Check with the stable hands to make sure our horses are ready. Please,” said the High Lady. And she really did look like one, standing there dressed as she was and silhouetted in the light from inside.

Lucia nodded once. Surprisingly, she turned to me and gave my arm a little squeeze with her hand before walking away. It was an effort to tear my gaze away from Tamsin’s radiance to even acknowledge the other female, but I managed, and when I looked back at her she was approaching me. Her hands were folded behind her back as she did.

“Horses,” I said, my throat dry, and one corner of her mouth turned up, “Didn’t you just return on them?”

She shook her head. “No. We have other ways of transportation, but it’s polite to meet with those of lesser status without showing off our magic.”

I nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Tamsin said, and her tone of voice suggested no malice in the statement. I didn’t know where to look at her. Her dress was modest, no plunging neckline and sleeves all the way to her wrists, but the fact that she was wearing one at all was too different for me. I felt like I was violating her. And locking eyes… that was a trap. I would never look away until she released me. It felt too intimate.

“Lucia told you about Calanmai,” she continued.

I lifted a shoulder. “Only a bit.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. It’s more than a holiday and… well, you’ll see when it comes.” She drew in a breath, I watched her chest rise and fall, and then she brought her hands out from behind her back. She held one, long-stemmed red rose. “First one of the season,” she explained, “Lucia and I found it while we were gone. I thought you should have it.”

I stared at her. I did like flowers… peonies were my favorite. But I didn’t expect her to know that. I loved helping Elaric trim the bushes in his garden, if only I could have a few blooms to use as references to paint. “Why?”

Tamsin simply reached for my wrist, and I didn’t pull away. She lifted my hand up and placed the rose in it. “I just want you to know that not everything that occurs here has to do with death,” she said. I looked up to her face just as she did the same. “Sometimes we cultivate life too.”

I swallowed and closed my hand around the stem of the rose. I expected her to walk away then, but her hand started to move from my wrist, up my arm. Her other hand moved up to gently touch my chest, over where my heart thundered. Her left hand ran over my elbow and up towards my shoulder as the right went south, and I couldn’t breath. She had never touched me before. Her left hand caressed my cheek, barely there, just a wisp of something tracing my cheekbone. Her right hand settled on my stomach.

“You’ve gained weight,” she commented. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come. She just smiled and nodded to herself. There was no insult. I had been starving not even a month ago. “I’ve done my job well.”

Then, Tamsin released me and turned to go, presumably to find Lucia and then ride off to their meeting. It did truly feel like she had released me from a spell, though I tasted no magic. That moment, her giving me a rose, her fingers touching me through my shirt and tunic, had made me forget everything I was intending to do here.

“Oh and Feyren.” Tamsin paused just a few feet ahead of me. I looked back up at her, only at her eyes, and she met my gaze when she turned her head over her shoulder. With the flowers nearly blooming all around her, and her green gown matching the trees in the background, I suddenly wanted to burn this scene into my mind forever so I could paint it.

“Yes?”

“Don’t be afraid to look.” And with one more small smile she turned and continued on her way, the hem of her gown brushing the manicured lawn with every step.

[rayaarchive]

Bar Maid

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she made it to town, weeks maybe, and she nearly regretted everything from all the groping and cat calls she had to deal with as she served drunkards day in and day out. She hadn’t been ignorant to the perks dating the Commander had given her… Yet it was a living. Enough to change her clothes and dye her hair as not to get recognized, she had even let it grow out a bit and hid her ears.

No one here knew her, and somehow, she saw the familiar face of a Red Kite who looked as long faces as her owner. She scowled, minutely, and sighed.

Excluding herself, leaving her dish rag on the counter with the bar keeper, she took her break and headed outside to retrieve the bird. The long sleeves of the tunic she’d acquired lessened the sting of Ada’s claws into her arm that had been offered out as a perch.

“Fahleon here?” She mumbled, not wanting to seem daft to any passerby. There was no screeching answer, only a disconcern with her and then preening. Raya took it as a no and left it at that for now; she took her around back and into the kitchen for a quick moment before returning outside as not to be seen, and offered up some form of meat that had yet to be cooked. She wasn’t in charge of the meals here so she honestly had no idea what kind of meat it was.

“I suppose writing a not telling him ‘no thanks’ would be useless?” It was half rhetorical but Ada looked at her in a way that could only be ‘well duh’, had she been human.

She pecked at her hair, pulling a few strands free and covering them in bits of blood from the mystery meat.

“Ew… yeah, I dyed it so I wouldn’t be found… clearly didn’t work.” She commented, using her sleeve to rub the red out of the rutty brown she’d made it. She absolutely hated the color, she missed looking like herself.

She kept Ada for as long as she would stay, even making a few coppers here and there by showing her in the bar, careful not to let any one too close to her, but it was a different friend she’d made that kept the men away from her.

A half starved Possum had been getting into the waste behind the bar, causing a bit of trouble for her employer, so she took to catching it. It had taken weeks for it to trust her, eventually eating from her hand, then allowing her to pet it. She’d named her Hara’Nal, and kept her as a pet until she discovered, due to a customer, that she had far more potential than just a companion pet. They taught her to pick locks and pockets. An investment of worth if she had to say. Worth the coin it took to teach the animal.

As always, her contentment was shattered; at least this time it was gentle this time, with the absence of Ada. She wondered how long she had stayed with her but quickly decided it didn’t matter when she saw who would be her patron today.

Not a single soul in Thedas could copy nor mask The Iron Bull.

She stood in the door way, contemplating just leaving, until her boss called her over.

“Fake name?” Odd greeting, but warranted.

“Fake name.” She parroted, Confirming the question.

He motioned for her to sit next to him, and light as the business was so early in the morning, she lacked an excuse not to.

“Nice hair… ugly cat.” He grimes into his pitcher and she snorted as she pet Hara’s butt,

“She’s a possum… a very useful possum.”

She needed that; how long had it been since she cracked a smile? Everything was so stressful at the castle, and every ones mood rubbed off on her piece by piece until she couldn’t handle it any more. She knew she didn’t used to have tantrums so often, she used to be fine in her place, with her work… but that was before the world started falling apart.

“Are you hear to bring me back or kill me.”

“Neither,” he shrugged, poking at Hara and causing her to snap and screech at him,

“I just promised Beau to come look for ya and the Inquisitor that is find his bird.”

“You’re not a good liar for a spy.”

His laugh caught her off guard and she nearly fell off her stool and damned it’s backlessness.

“Am I now!?”

Raya squinted at him and scrunched her nose and mouth,

“Yes, you great oaf -don’t scare me next time- and Fahleon would never trust any one with Ada, so you have to be lying.”

Bull whipped a finger under his eye and nodded,

“That’s true, you got me there, but Beau did send me. And the commander, though indirectly.”

Raya only soured more and loomed off out the window as not to aim it at him,

“Then I’m glad you’re not here to take me in, as I care for neither of their opinions.”

“And why would that be all of a sudden?”

She rolled her eyes, knowing what he was doing as it was something her mother did as well. She’d play along simply because it was easier than fighting him.

“Why should I care for their voice when they wouldn’t hear mine?”

He stayed silent for a beat before humming a note to himself,

“That seems fair.”

For a long moment, Raya wanted to just scream. She didn’t want to deal with this and she didn’t find it fair that no one listened to her, every one was older and treated her as if she were something to be swept aside or used as decoration as needed… the whole of Skyhold lately had felt as neglectful as her father had been. Even as much as she knew she had been a ‘spoiled slave’ she knew she was also completely inept at acting like every one else who had never had that sort of confining life. Instead, she sighed and leaned into Bull’s shoulder and stared blankly at the bottles of spirits on the shelves across them.

“I don’t want to go back… but i don’t want to not go back either……….. what are they saying?”

“The inquisitor And Lilliana managed to change the rumors, Beau cried about you dying for a few days once you left,” he chuckled as he tried to spit out the next bit, “and the food is god awful!” Raya grinned into his arm in attempt to hide it, “For my sake, come cook for us! I can’t stand another day of yeast loaf and mincemeat.”

A beat of content silence settles between them before it was broken.

“Any way I can go unnoticed back home?”

“Possibly.” He took another drink befor sighing with weight Raya didn’t quite understand, “Any chance you wanna tell me why you attacked the commander? There’s rumors of course, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

He looked at her expectantly and she nearly bulked for a moment before chuckling and shaking her head.

“Out of everyone in Skyhold, you happen to be a pillar of sanity ina sea of politics and spite ridden alliances.” How amazing was it that the o e person she hadn’t trusted at first was the only one she could trust now?

“Shortly, It was half truths and misunderstandings.”

“And longly ?” He prodded a bit more.

“Fahleon left the war room in a tizzy -not his normal pissy mood but a real special occasion- so I asked Lilliana, she said cu- The Commander has sent Templars to rid some bandits that were harassing the Lavallen clan, and how it would have been better for her spies to go but no one listened to her plan…. I may not be a whole elf, but I know how horrifying Templars are… I know what they do to people… to elves. It’s nothing good.” She looked up at Bull with misty eyes and a wavering voice, “They’re probably dead.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and promised her that they weren’t.

“I… I went to deal with Fae, and he was crying and I tried to help even though he never wants it even when he needs it. I promised not to tell any one, and I didn’t! He said yelling at Cullen was the same thing though, that no one respects him now. I didn’t even set anything on fire, the world Dow busted and the papers caught from the heat, then … ok, yeah, I set the desk on fire Cus Cullen liked it and he kept trying to silence me and tell me I don’t know what’s best, like a human can speak for an elf!” People we’re watching, murmuring, “I don’t get to claim either! Not elf or human! It’s not fair for every one to take my voice!” She’s crying and her hands are covered in frost as they’re fisted on the table in front of her, “and fucking Beau, uses magic on me while saying not to use magic on others. The circle has soured her brain and made her a pawn.” She spat. She saw the offense in his eyes and set in the corners of his mouth, but also that he -on some level- also understood.

“She’ll speak to you when you come back. She’s promised to hear you this time, if you care.” He offered, paying for his drink and rising to his full height.

“Not right away, and I’ll come back.” It was hardly a negotiation, more a demand.

“Deal, just do it eventually.”