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monocaelia · 8 months

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fragile.

' you have broken down my defenses, and i don’t really resent it. ' - vita sackville west

in which you really don't want to care about him and his careless attitude, but you always find yourself coming back to him. always. feat. diluc ragnvindr & gn!reader w.c : 5k warnings : childhood friends to lovers, diluc lore spoilers, minor angst but ends w fluff, diluc ragnvindr. note : happy new year! sorry for the delay hehe, but this is for @seraphiism's 2023 collab event !! please support the other authors and enjoy the fic ^^

your mother had always instructed you to stay close to her side, to never stray far away from her lest you find yourself in trouble with the master of the winery or the other servants working the orchards and tending to the land of the estate.

but with a beautiful land of ripe grapes and friendly staff greeting you as you rush past them, how could you ever just sit still beside your mother as she did her job around the winery?

the late summer breeze rushes past your face as you weave through the wooden stakes holding the wiry vines of grapes above you. the warm sun rays heat your skin as you leap over the small rocks that litter the passage leading into the main area of the ragnvindr estate. the wind whispers in your ear, making you grin as your little legs take you wherever it guides you.

you feel free, the wind pushing past your wings to lead you to your newest adventure around the manor.

your feet land firmly on the grounds behind the manor when you hear the gentle sniffles coming from behind a couple of barrels. despite your mother's warnings echoing in your head, you take gentle steps towards the sound as curiosity takes over.

you're not expecting to see a young boy with fiery red hair and matching eyes that hold the warmest, flickering fire glaring up at you with tears at the corner of his eyes and holding a bleeding knee.

"...are you okay?" you ask, kneeling down beside him. you begin to frown when he pulls his knee away from you and his glare deepens.

"i don't need your help," the young boy hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

"really? you don't need my help even though you're crying in a corner all by yourself?" you scoff at him. he doesn't say anything in retaliation and you take it as an okay for you to help him.

you pull a handkerchief from your pocket; nothing too fancy as your family couldn't afford the finest silks like the nobles could. it's cotton, white, and had a simple design of a little sparrow emroidered in the corner.

"i don't have any bandages on me," you mumble softly. your little fingers gently wrap the handkerchief around the young boy's knee several times before tying a small knot on it. without even blinking, you lean down to kiss the wounded knee.

"what are you doing?!" the young boy exclaims, yanking his knee away.

"kissing it better," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "my mother always does that when i get hurt. she says it takes the pain away and makes it heal faster."

"that's stupid," the boy mumbles with a glare.

"says the one who tripped and fell and hurt himself," you argue back. you stick your tongue out when the boy shouts out a 'hey!' and roll your eyes.

"who are you and what are you doing here anyways?" you ask the young boy, kneeling beside him once more. he's still glaring at you, but it's less hostile than it was a few moments ago. "my mom said strangers aren't allowed to be here."

the young boys eyes are red, vibrantly so. the life in them burn brightly, reminding you of a fire as it flickers with warmth and a promise of a brighter tomorrow. like the hearth of a fireplace, the young boy seems to be the incarnate of warmth itself with the way he's filled with the flame of life.

"i live here, dummy," he quips back at you with a frown and your eyes widen.

"really? i've never seen you around, and i've been everywhere on this estate," you reply, bringing your thumb and forefinger to your chin as you remain deep in thought. truly, the only people you've managed to catch were all adults working for the master of this winery. never once have you seen a kid running along.

with a bright smile of your own, you lean towards the young boy. "we should be friends! since i don't know anyone else to play with here, we can play!"

the boy looks you up and down with furrowed brows, but he slowly nods. "...okay," he mumbles and you grin brighter.

"great! what's your name then? i'm-"

your name is shouted as hurried footsteps rush towards you. your mother pulls you aside as she looks at the young boy in front of you with panicked eyes.

"young master, i'm so sorry if my child said or did anything to hurt you," your mother says in a rush. she pushes your head down to bow in front of the young boy. she hisses something into your ear and you stutter out your own apology too, even if you did nothing wrong.

you find out the young boy you helped earlier that day was the son of the nobleman your mother works for, diluc ragnvindr. apparently, he's some big deal because he's the young master, but what kind of big deal hurts himself and hides between the barrels instead of asking for help?

you huff as you kick your feet sitting down by your bedside. because of the whole debacle, your mother had ordered you to stay inside to prevent even more debacles from happening even if you explained that the young master getting injured was not your fault. the sun shining from your windowsill feels so far away as you stare outside and ponder what to do.

until you hear a light pattering sound come from your window.

your curiosity is piqued as your small frame approaches the glass panes, wide eyes peeking over the wooden frame as your eyes scan the scenery.

the foliage of the trees surrounding your home cast shadows over your house with small animals running back and forth from the greenery above, causing the rustling of the leaves. the sun trickles in through the gaps of the leaves and your eyes settle on the boy with red hair standing outside your window, a small rock in his hand.

there's a proper bandage on his knee now as it was properly dressed, and his fiery eyes meet yours. he looks hesitant at first, but his brows furrow and his lips open to prepare to speak.

"...come outside and play with me," he tells you when you push open the window in your bedroom, a slight pout in his voice.

"you got me in trouble," you reply shortly, "and now i'm stuck inside because of you."

the young boy bites his lip, pondering what he could do or say to make things better. from the way he's thinking hard enough for you to see steam coming out of his ears, you could tell that he was trying really hard to think of anything to say.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, kicking the dirt with his shoe.

"sorry, what was that?" you ask, holding your ear out.

the young master huffs, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance. he stomps his foot before-

"i said 'i'm sorry'!"

you smile at him smugly before crossing your arms on the windowsill. it was amusing to see the supposed young master like this; for such a renowned young boy, he was such a cry baby.

"okay, i can't go outside, but we can still play inside if that's okay," you tell him with a bright smile. "i'll let you in!"

"diluc..." he says, red eyes meeting yours. he reminds you of a fire with the way he's looking at you; so full of life but almost burning you if you get him too riled up. but the flames are tame now compared to the anxious flickers you saw earlier before he apologized.

"okay; i'll let you in then, diluc!"

ever since that warm summer, you and diluc have been inseparable; every afternoon is spent exploring the land of the winery but never straying far enough to get lost or end up on the other side of the lake where monsters lurk.

you were there the evening master crepus brought home another young boy around your age home; his blue hair reminding you of the blueberries your mother bought from mondstadt for you to eat. it was a bit of an adjustment with another young boy to play with, but soon you got along well with him as well.

his bright blue eyes always sparkling as you invite him to play alongside diluc and his little hand held in yours. he reminded you of the stars above with the way his eyes twinkle with youth and reflect the night sky above you when the three of you snuck out of your homes to stargaze with your hands holding onto each other until the morning sun began to rise over the horizon.

with your hands held tightly with diluc's and kaeya's, your youth together was only just beginning.

it's a cool morning where the early frost is beginning to melt as the sun continues to rise over the horizon, spreading her warmth and love across the fields of dawn winery. the young master has been gone for a couple days now; something about some sort of knight exam or whatever happening in the city of mondstadt. you would have gone with him, but your duties lie in caring for the winery whilst your friends head off to the heart of mondstadt to finish their training and hopefully become part of the knights of favonius that crepus ragnvindr had always encouraged them to be a part of.

you know having their father's praise meant a lot to your dear friends and you could only hope for the best for both diluc and kaeya as they were off doing their duties.

your ears perk as your name is shouted through the winery along with the sound of hooves rapidly against the dirt road. over in the distance, you can make out a red haired young man galloping over on his steed at near full speed. with wide eyes, you try to tell him to slow down before you get trampled and-

"oof!" you groan as a heavy body slams into you, both his weight and warmth tackling you to the ground. you're thankful that his arms cradled your head as you both go tumbling into the dirt road underneath you and the only pain was that of your body against the floor.

you don't even get to question why diluc had tackled you to the floor when he pulls his face away from you, giving you a clear view of his expression. he's smiling brightly, a wide grin on his face and his eyes of rubies twinkling brighter than any flame you've ever seen. the flames of his soul flicker brilliantly in his excitement and you can't help your own match his energy.

"i got in!" diluc says, his boyish smile growing wider. the small divots in his cheeks are cute and evidence of how hard he was grinning at the news. "i passed the trials got to do the oath swear and- oh, i wish you could've been there!"

despite growing up into a more mature-ish teen, it is moments like these where you're reminded that even as time passes and he grows taller than you, diluc is still the bright eyed boy that you've known since you were young. he looks so cute, in an endearing way, when he eagerly tells you all about his trials and how tough they were.

you really hope that the young master stays the same as he is now.

with a gentle hand, you reach up to ruffle his hair; it's soft to the touch and your eyes don't miss the way diluc pauses in his excitement as your fingers weave into his hair. you assume it's because he's not used to your praise and brush it off, even as he leans into your touch and waits for your words.

"why don't we head inside first? i want to hear everything that happened, but inside where it's warm and comfortable rather than on the dirt floor, diluc," you say to him, a slight lilt in your voice. you laugh softly when you see his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment before he gets off of you.

"i apologize, i was just so eager to tell you," diluc says softly, reaching down to offer a hand to you. you take his hand; you can feel the natural warmth emanating from his body through his gloves and, before you know it, you've been pulled up from the ground. his arm wraps around your waist to assure that you're balanced as you stand up.

"i just," diluc begins. you watch him as the young master of the winery averts his gaze briefly before he meets yours, warm rubies enveloping you with nothing but the comfort he holds for you ever since you were both younger.

"i wanted you to be the first person i told and to tell you."

a wave of something pleasant washes over you knowing that diluc, the heir of dawn winery and one of the most hardworking and talented man in all of mondstadt, rushed back home on horseback in the early hours of this chilly morning just to announce the news to you in person.

just so he could be your first in regards to his good news.

you laugh softly as something warm settles into the pit of your heart, squeezing his hand in yours as you tug him towards the main mansion of the winery estate with no intentions of letting his go for the time being.

even with the budding flowers of youth begin to bloom and the happiness that was promised to you has yet to come, you would have never expected for the spring of your youth to end so abruptly.

it happened all so quickly; crepus ragnvindr wielding a delusion, his death and the anger of diluc exploding, and the fall of your friendship with kaeya and diluc.

you weren't given the details of either one's situation, just a witness of a near death experience and the unforgiven apologies spewing from kaeya's lips as he held his injured eye in the midst of the rain washing down on them as if mourning both the loss of crepus ragnvindr and the wound wedged deep between the relationship of the ragnvindr brothers.

it was like in a mere second, the once warm diluc that would blush and hold your hand so delicately had been wiped away and replaced by a diluc grieving the loss of his father as the flames of his anger and betrayal of both his own brother and the knights of favonius for trying to brush the murder of his father under the rug explode and engulf his entire being.

he doesn't even give you a proper goodbye, leaving only a letter dedicated to you and his vision dimly glowing on his nightstand behind.

it feels like a fever dream when you hear the news of diluc finally returning after all of these years. you don't even hear it from the man himself; rather, from the whispers and excited chatter that the master of dawn winery had returned home.

part of you is excited at the news that he's alive; with no news of his existence after he ran from home in search of the truth behind his father's death other than the faint glow and warmth radiating from his vision clutched in your hands when you missed and worried for him, you were ecstatic knowing that he truly was home now.

that he's alive and breathing and still with you.

and yet, another part of you twinges in pain that he didn't come to you and announce that he was home. he had left you without even a single goodbye, not even bothering to visit you and explain his situation before leaving you questioning whether or not he even cared about how you felt about him.

of course, you aren't entitled to being the first to know, but after growing up together and usually being the first to know of everything in your youth, your heart aches knowing you were one of the last to hear of this at the winery.

it doesn't help knowing that you have not even caught a glimpse of diluc after his supposed return.

so imagine your surprise coming home one evening, the cool night air biting against your skin as you return home after a long day's work, seeing a figure leaning against your home.

at first, your blood turns cold as your heart races in your ears; it couldn't be anyone bad... the winery is a safe place and any suspicious figures are dealt with accordingly before they even step close to the winery grounds. you don't even have anything to defend yourself against if they did happen to be someone with malicious intent.

you take a step back to turn tail back to the estate but freeze when you begin to recognize the figure outside your door; red curls resembling that of flames flickering in the air and warm ruby eyes that you could recognize anywhere. despite standing in the dim evening light and having only the glow of the lantern outside of your home, you could make out the injuries through his dark clothing.

just what did he get himself into?

you hesitate at first, but eventually let your instincts take control as you begin to walk over to your home. it's as if you were both in the blooming stages of your youth again, bringing diluc home to mend his wounds after training for the knight exams.

caring for him was like muscle memory to you, even after all of the events leading to him leaving you in the dust.

you don't say a word as you open the wooden door and guide diluc in, pulling out a chair by the fireplace. wordlessly, he sits in it as you leave to prepare to clean his wounds.

your fingers shake ever so slightly as you remove diluc's coat from his shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor with a thud. you apologize softly as you begin to unbutton his shirt and, as each button is undone and reveals more of his skin, your fingers begin to flinch every time your skin brushes against the skin of his chest.

his breath is warm, you can feel it against your skin as you slide off the remaining clothes on his torso. his chest is bare to you, and normally you would be gawking at how much he has physically changed since you were younger. but you cannot help but stare at how much he had been injured in the last few years you have seen him.

aside from the scratches from the most recent scuffle which led him to your quaint home beside his manor, scars litter his chest and arms. although most of them are healed, the damage that he had experienced was still evident on his skin and you hold back a gasp at how deep some of them had been; there's a huge scar that runs diagonally from the top of his chest to his stomach and you could already feel your stomach churning at the pain.

you couldn't imagine having to sustain those injuries for so long, and being alone through it all.

and, now, you hope that the injuries currently on his body heal faster knowing that he isn't alone this time. not when he has you by his side.

diluc's eyes burn holes into your skull as he watches you dip a towel into the bucket of warm water at your side; you pretend to ignore him. twisting the soaked cloth to rid it of the excess water, you gently begin to clean the wounded man in front of you.

a man you consider an old friend, but you fear he doesn't hold the same sentiment. not anymore.

it's quiet, the only sound shared between the two of you being the occasional sound of the towel dumped back into the bucket and the crackling of the fireplace in your living space. the moon casts her illuminating rays through the window of your home, but her light is nothing compared to the comfort of the fire in your home.

the comfort of the man in front of you, even if you didn't want to ever admit it to him now.

the glass jars containing the disinfecting ointment for diluc's wounds clink gently as you open them to spread over his skin.

"why are you helping me?" his voice breaks the thick silence between you two. his sudden question makes your hands pause, but you don't raise your head as you think of something to reply.

"and let an old friend bleed to death outside my door? you think i'm that heartless, diluc?" you ask him. your fingers resume their previous job of slathering the medicine over his new wounds. "i could say the same to you, why show up to my house like this?"

another silence follows your words and you assume he's done interrogating you for your kindness to him.

"i had nowhere else to turn to," diluc says after a while. your eyes catch his fists tighten on his lap as he takes another breath. "you've shown me nothing but kindness even after i was so cruel to you."

you exhale softly at his words. of course he thinks dealing with his own problems this entire time was the worst thing he could do to you. if you were being honest, it did hurt when he seemingly pretended you didn't exist or pushed you away when he had returned home from whatever he was dealing with away from mondstadt.

you had hoped for a joyful reunion, one filled with tears as you finally welcome home your old friend. but he never announced when he was coming home and you only figured out through the grapevine. he was never home when you looked for him and when you finally caught a glimpse of him, your eyes would meet for barely a second before he rushed off elsewhere and leaving you in the dust.

according to kaeya, his brother whom you've kept in touch with throughout the years. diluc had changed even more ever since his return; he kept his feelings to himself and his face remained 'constipated,' as per kaeya's words, due to his inner turmoil.

but from everyone else, he had always been so kind to them. the old women in the city would always praise how gentle the young master was, helping them walk across the city or carrying their groceries if they needed it. the young women also constantly swooned over how mysterious, yet warm-hearted diluc was; seemingly cold in nature but treating children and animals with such tenderness.

"it did hurt knowing you were ignoring me," you confess as your fingers begin to unravel the gauze to wrap over his wounds. "even if you wanted everyone to think you've changed and have become cold and guarded, i know you're still the same caring boy i've known since we were young. i hope so, at least."

his skin is warm to the touch, another feature you realize has never changed about your old friend. with bated breath, you lift your head to let your gaze finally settle on diluc's own. just as you predicted, despite the physical changes, you can still see the diluc you once knew within the scarred and older man in front of you.

diluc has definitely gotten older; the baby fat on his face slimming down slightly to reveal a more defined jaw and the bags under his eyes were evidence of his restless nights away from mondstadt. there are light scars on his face, nothing too deep to keep from his princely demeanor but are definitely proof of a troubling journey, and he has grown taller than the last time you had seen him in your youth.

but one thing that has never changed is the fire the lights up his eyes. so red and warm, you're tempted to hold his face in your hands to get a closer look. they're so vibrant, alive like the embers that flicker in the fireplace that lights your home, as they stare back at you in anticipation of your next words.

"you would never intend to hurt me on purpose. so if i should have to wait forever for you to be ready to come to me like you've had in the past, i don't mind doing so."

diluc's stoic expression wavers at your words. a sliver of guilt shines in his eyes and he looks away briefly as he digests the words you've spoken to him.

he couldn't tell you the reasons why he always kept you at arm's length; was he wary of your intentions for always being kind to him despite how he treated you or was he so used to people close to him lying to his face that he feared you were also pulling a facade?

or was he scared of you sharing the same fate as his family should he loved you with his heart on his sleeve, a fate of being held in his arms as he feels the warmth that once comforted him when you were young fade away like the embers in the hearth of a fireplace?

diluc did not want to know and he did not need to know, not when you're looking at him with such trust and compassion that he finds it hard to even hold any distrust towards you.

his dear friend from his youth who was always there to pick him up when he fell.

you did not break through the walls shielding diluc's heart for you had already found your place beside it, holding he's life with your gentle hands and protecting his soul's flames with your faith in him.

"i'm sorry," diluc apologizes to you, looking into your eyes. one of your hands is grabbed to be held by him, rough and scarred and so calloused as it held the memories and grief of what he went through to become like the man in front of you, the gauze held in your other. his warmth seeps into your skin, heating up your skin as the flames of his heart grow and encase your entire being within its embrace.

your lips part to say something, but he continues to speak.

"i thought keeping you away would benefit us both," he takes a breath as his eyes scan over your own features, taking in all that has changed since the last time he saw you in your adolescent years; how much you've grown both physically and emotionally. you look so much more mature than the naughty child who ran around breaking their mother's rules just to play with him or the dear friend who would bicker with him endlessly during their teenage years.

the years of their beautiful youth, years that he wished so dearly he could go back to and live in that peace for eternity.

but while the winds continue to blow and move time along, you've continued to stay the same despite the change.

you're still so kind, so inviting to someone like him.

you treat him like the friend you've remembered in your adolescence, even if his hands were bloodied with vengeance and his heart is scarred and wounded from betrayal and deceit.

he is still diluc, just diluc in your bright and beautiful eyes; he always had been.

his hands squeeze yours tightly, hoping that he has the courage to say what he wants to say.

"i don't deserve your kindness, or your love. but if i imagine a life where i have succeeded in pushing you away and we no longer talk," diluc begins, the fire in his eyes wavering as they hold your gaze.

"i don't think i would ever want to live a life where you're not in it."

diluc's words shake you to your core; it's something you wouldn't expect him to say now after all these years. as much as you want to immediately forgive him and push back the years of agony, waiting for any sign that he was alive while leaving his vision behind, or even watching as he ignores you despite being home after all these years, your heart aches knowing knowing he even did this to you in the first place.

"how can i know that you won't leave me like you did?" your voice is small despite being so close to him. in fear of having him see how much his actions have affected you, you face tilts down to your lap to avoid his gaze. "i can't just wait for you forever, it hurts sitting here all these years with a promise i don't even know if you'll keep."

you take a shaky breath as you speak again.

"you didn't even say goodbye."

your voice breaks as you say those words and you can feel the burning sensation as the tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

there's a moment of silence between the two of you before you hear him gently call out your name. his free hand reaches up to cup your face, tentatively guiding you to face him. he says your name again, softly as if even saying your name too harshly would cause you to break, and you hesitantly meet his gaze.

there's a tenderness that you recognize deep in those fiery pools in his eyes, one that flickers like the hearth of your fireplace and suddenly you feel like you're experiencing the most beautiful yet fleeting moment in life once more. diluc's thumb gently presses against your cheek to wipe away any tears that overflowed from your already wet eyes.

his pinky links with your own, a childish thing to do but one that you still hold dear to your own heart.

a promise between the two of you bathed in firelight and your youth reflected back at you in the shape of the young man sitting before you.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x reader #diluc fluff #diluc fics #didi writes #seraphiism'23 #events !!#this was fun!!#sorry this is really late TT life is life-ing o(-(#n e wayz; i do think diluc would b such an annoying kid LOL #b r a t to the core #but he mellows out and all that fun stuff later #happy new year everyone ! i hope you enjoyed my (late) work !!

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novy2sirius · 5 days

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celtic astrology signs

· note: i don’t know much about this type of astrology. this is information i got from this site. i just enjoy posting about all the different forms

birch: december 24th - january 20th

motivated, ambitious, driven, passionate

rowan: january 21st - february 17th

progressive thinker, creative, original, visionaries

ash: february 18th - march 17th

free-thinker, naturally creative, powerful imagination, intuitive, spontaneous

alder: march 18th - april 14th

discoverer, pioneer, novator

willow: april 15th - may 12th

creative, intuitive, intelligent, learner, star

hawthorn: may 13th - june 9th

curious, calm, compassionate

oak: june 10th - july 7th

justice-seeking, confident, positive

holly: july 8th - august 4th

noble, leader, successful, brave

hazel: august 5th - september 1st

highly knowledgeable, knowledge thirsty

vine: september 2nd - september 29th

adaptive, unpredictable, strong-spirited

ivy: september 30th - october 27th

charismatic, restless, optimistic, team player

reed: october 28th - november 24th

willpower, history-lover, good learner

elder: november 25th - december 25th

free-spirited, risk-taker, opinionated, resilient

#celtic astrology #astrology #astrology blog #astrology chart #birth chart #astrology community #astro community

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themodernwitchsguide · 2 months

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altars for greek heroes

ACHILLES: hero of the Trojan war, son of nereid Thetis

Colors: gold/bronze, red for Trojan War. blue, white for his mother Thetis

Offerings: yarrow, gold/silver, shells, gull feathers, olive, laurel, gemstones

Crystals: aquamarine, sodalite, jaspers (red, yellow, ocean especially)

*to honor Achilles you must also honor Patroclus*

PATROCLUS: hero of the Trojan war, son of King Peleus

Colors: gold/bronze, red for war. purple for royal birth

Offerings: incense/fire, oil, olive, laurel, gemstones, gold/silver

Crystals: agates (moss, tree especially), amethyst, lepidolite, rose quartz, citrine

ADONIS: lover of Aphrodite, became god of rebirth and beauty

Colors: pink, purple, red for beauty and association with Aphrodite

Offerings: fast growing plants (lettuce, fennel, barley, wheat), anemone and other flowers, dead plants, cake, honey

Crystals: flower agate, rose quartz, amethyst, rutilated quartz, jaspers (specifically rainforest or other green ones)

ARIADNE: helped Theseus to defeat the Minotaur, later married Dionysus and became goddess of labyrinths

Colors: gold for noble birth. purple for association with Dionysus

Offerings: grapes, puzzle toys, spools of thread or fabric art, wine, herbal tea, saffron

Crystals: grape agate, celestite, star jasper, pyrite, amethyst, scolectite, selenite

ASCLEPIUS: god of healing, son of Apollo

Colors: yellow, white for association with Apollo. red, pink, orange for healing

Offerings: snake skin, clay/bronze humanoid figurines, cypress, pine, olive trees, medicinal herbs

Crystals: quartz, rhodonite, amethyst, fluorite, selenite, citrine

ATALANTA: one of the Argonauts, devotee of Artemis, killed the Calydonian boar

Colors: brown, green for the hunt. white, blue, grey for association with Artemis

Offerings: pork, boar hide, apples, laurel, forgeables, lion/bear imagery

Crystals: jaspers, moss/tree agate, petrified wood, amethyst, rose quartz, selenite

CASTOR AND POLLUX: Pollux was a son of Zeus who shared his immortality Castor, they were turned into the Gemini constellation, saviors of seafarers

Colors: purple for noble birth. white and grey for association with zeus. black for the night sky

Offerings: shells, laurel, olive, meat, wine, two things conjoined (like two cherries or two grapes on a vine)

Crystals: star and ocean jaspers, sodalite, aquamarine, obsidian, hematite

HERAKLES: went mad and killed his wife and kids, did 12 labors as penance, god of strength and heroes

Colors: red, gold for strength and heroes

Offerings: hellebore, olive, laurel, meat, alcohol, yarrow

Crystals: bloodstone, carnelian, garnet, red jasper, smokey quartz, pyrite

HYACINTHUS: Spartan prince and lover of Apollo, became god of vegetation

Colors: pink, yellow, green for vegetation. yellow/gold for association with apollo

Offerings: iris (they were called hyacinths by the Greeks) and other flowers, grain, yarrow, clove

Crystals: tree/moss/flower agate, jaspers (especially bumblebee), citrine, carnelian, pyrite, honey calcite, amber

ODYSSEUS: clever hero of Homer's "The Odyssey," favored by Athena

Colors: gold, purple for royal status. grey, white for wisdom

Offerings: owl feathers, shells, boat imagery, poetry/speeches, laurel, olive, cypress

Crystals: jaspers, obsidian, quartz, aquamarine, turquoise, sodalite, bloodstone

ORION: lover of Artemis, was turned into a constellation after death. Sirius is his dog and Scorpius the scorpion that slayed him

Colors: black, white for night. brown, green for the hunt

Offerings: forageables, apples, hides/leather, mugwort, cypress, moon shaped items

Crystals: star jasper, bloodstone, selenite, celestite, howlite

ORPHEUS: son of Apollo, famed musician and poet of the Argonauts, travelled to Haides to try to save his wife Eurydice

Colors: yellow, gold, white for Apollo. black for the Underworld

Offerings: music (especially lyre), poetry, hymns, honey, laurel, wine, meats

Crystals: aventurine, obsidian, black tourmaline, smokey quartz, selenite, yellow jasper, honey calcite

PERSEUS: son of Zeus, slayer of Medusa, has a constellation

Colors: gold and red for hero status. white, grey, blue for association with Zeus

Offerings: meat, laurel, snake shed, alcohol, fruit, honey, milk (to honor his mother Danae)

Crystals: jaspers (red, star especially), bloodstone, serpentine, quartz, obsidian

THESEUS: slayer of the Minotaur, united Attica, completed six trials for the entrances to the Underworld that he passed on the way to Athens

Colors: blues for ocean, being a son of Poseidon (in some stories)

Offerings: ship imagery, meat, olive, yarrow, gold

Crystals: pyrite, sodalite, lapis lazuli, coral, blue aventurine, aquamarine

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squiddy-god · 3 months

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Ode to a prideful knight

(Sebek zigvolt x reader)

Re-upload, anyways, this is done in a similar style to "captured" and "confessions to a Fae" this is like Knight! Sebek x noble! Reader. Reader is human sebek is down bad.

CW : simp, knight! Sebek, human reader, fem! Reader I think, fluff

2.8k

Tall was the knight who adorned himself in the crest of his king, whose blade forged of steel was an extension of his will and pride. Boastful was the knight whose old gold eyes sparkled with green as if moss on the forest floor. Noble was the night who stood back straight as the arrow that never misses, whose brow forever was set firm in a scowl.

Uncharacteristically austere was the knight for one born half to the blood of those who dance in circles under moonlight and sing with trills of trickery, the prideful, nobal, frigid knight stood at post by his king.

Leafs and ferns lined the ground his boots touched as he marched through the forest. Fauna grew in spectacular color and mystic hues, even the cynical man knew not why his libs carried him through the trees as deep as he could venture and further still. It was as if a spell took hold and beckoned him to this place, ruins of mortal men swallowed by the weald that he grew in, statues grown with vines and tarnished with broken limbs. Crashing in his chest like thunder and beating like lightning his heart pulled him with a string towards flowers of thistle purple and coral pink. Soft petals that drape down and dance with the breath of the spring air.

They brushed against his soft locks of nyanza green and left cornsilk petals in their wake. Tranquility was steeped in the soft glow of sunlight that brushed so delicately acros his pale skin, but as if a stone was skipped in a calm pond the moment was broken when slitted pupils caught sight of such an enchanting image as your skin aglow with life. Sat atop that tall wall like a callow youth was the one that had so captured his gaze, burning intensely as the knight looked on but walked no further, not to the shallow pond that housed few rocks and the thick roots of a tree that grew from under the wall.

“But what's the harm if I explore! The woods are safe, are they not m'lady?” you spoke, words like sweet morning dew, the woman you talked with sighed “it may be safe for now but you know of the unease that festers between those who live behind the thorns! So please i beg you come down” exasperated the woman pleaded with you and the knight cursed the fate so cruel to trap his heart in this meadow only to pluck his favorite flower. Yet you seemed to relent a final glance towards the forest and only a glimpse of his figure that you thought nothing of before you were gone.

His breath fluttered in his lungs, had you spotted him? His unbecoming staring had the image of you seared into his blinking eyes, light of the spring sun giving warmth to your features. Old legends say that even those born to cynicism and stony resentment could become enraptured by bliss in but a glance.

The beauty you held was unlike else he'd seen, a beauty so unique to the golden green eyes of the fae that- for a moment- he wondered if even you saw it in yourself as he did, but thoughts like this he pushed from his mind, his awestruck gaze returning to but a crocodile scowl as the knight himself returned to the wild thicket. But his love was fated to grow next to those violet roses that crawled up your tall stone wall.

Fate was not in good spirits or clever humor he thought, how it brought his mind to you, a sight he could neither forget nor bring himself to accept. What dastardly spell had you cast with a glance? The incantation you must have muttered when he layed eyes on you that spring day? A week had passed and here he was, the snap of twigs and the crunching of pine under his heel as he marched with renewed vigor to those hanging branches of pastel flora.

Slitted pupils grew slim against the vibrant backing of his iris, rapidly he breathed, quickly he ran and even quicker he unsheathed his sword when the source of that scream was within his sight, a nor huntsman or wanderer was the man whose blade was taken up against you. “YOU THERE! DO YOU DARE TO DRAW YOUR WEAPON AGAINST THEM” what was he saying? He couldn't hear as blood rushed past his ears, a burning rage not concealed within pools of gold now bubbling and boiling over. Even as the rays of light hit his steel sword the unknown man cowered at a booming voice the tore baited silence. The knight had not raised his sword nor made any move to attack but the coward scampered off hurriedly threw filtered light and thick overgrowth.

“Thank you sir-” “YOU FOOLISH HUMAN” his voice boomed more light with annoyance than the rage which seemed quelled. “Tch what foolishness were you up to that elicited such a scream” he was worried, a thought he'd never truly admit. Your face held neither guilt nor shame, but was indeed painted with gratitude and security. “You have my thanks, sir knight, i simply wished to explore but found myself in errr…quite the predicament” brows creased and tension seemed to stiffen his broad shoulders. “I don't know who i can repay you”

There was no need. “Allow me to escort you home” your smile was enough repayment, allas those were words he could not utter to you.

He came often after that, skipping the stone in the pond by the wall as he extended a hand to yours, asking your accompaniment as you swept flower petals from his hair. Would he confess that his body felt alight with glee at your touch, at the almost loving way your fingers gathered petals from his shoulders? The words sat uncomfortably in his mouth, jaw clenched and lips pressed to a thin line when you drew near, he truly was a crocodile.

“Oh knight~” your voice sang as you leaned over the stone wall just out of his grasp as always. And just as always he stepped without hesitation or pause, onto the engorged branches of the old tree that grew and whose roots sprawled into the meadow beyond the wall. You yourself stood on the plank of an old swing made when you were young, the shift of weight and unstable footing causing you to seek stability against the wall, and letting you reach over to greet your knight.

Routine it had become to brush the petals from his hair and shoulders, and routine it had become to smile at the sight of such an uptight man covered in both the attire of a knight and the petals from soft flowers. “Have you heard the talk, sir knight?” he sighed “do not attempt to play coy with me, what are you getting at human” you feigned hurt, but as you leaned back into your dramatics your footing almost slipped. Your hands flew to the wall for stability but were caught but the knight, one hand holding you as the other firmly grasped your shoulder, the leather of his gloves where soft you thought, and the world seemed calm again. Soft trills of singing birds and the creekinging of roots were only marginally louder than the quiet breaths.

“Foolish human, what am I to do with you? Come on now, over the wall” and you climbed the wall, not released from his grasp for long as he lifted you safely to solid ground.

His arms where strong as they seemed to hold you a moment in the warm sun, as if unable to move from the light, as if you where the sun itself the knight stood a moment longer before allowing you to nestle yourself on the grass between spiraling twisting roots and shaded by foliage of the same weeping willow tree. You sat and he stood, arms folded behind his back and feet together as if on guard for danger. “You were saying something?” he inquired. “Well, I wondered if you had heard of the competition in a week's time, for knights of fighters- heh really anyone who fancies themselves good with a sword.” glancing up at him his expression was not the soft one from a moment ago, but the one he always had. “I have no interest in the affairs of humans” you frowned and twiddled with a small blue hued flower by your side. “Really? It's a great chance to prove your skill or represent your lord, aaannnddd the prize is a kiss from someone of your choice-” his eyes perked up and it excited you “perhaps i could impress my lord!” oh how his heart boomed.could you hear it? The way it shaked and rattled in his ribs at the thought of your kiss, but he would take this to the grave with him, to let this human know of his affections was…no he couldn't, he would pretend that his spine did not shudder at the thought, that his palms did not grow moist with sweat as he felt himself wanting that prize. His pride, that damned pride of the knight would not allow him to fall, to fall so desperately in love with this human, but his pride would not let him lose, he would win this competition for the honor of his love and for the touch of your lips. “Oh, yes i'm sure he'd be very impressed if you won”

Bright were the blinding rays that illuminated the dirt paths and vibrant colors of the cloth colored stands, strewn with the patterns of this kingdom in reds and greens and blues cheering crowds hollered at knights who prepared to fight. Up in high stands sat the king next to his own king malleus, standing alongside the king was his advisor and alongside malleus was lilia as expected. Next to the highest stands were slightly lowered stands where noble women sat and gawked in frilly petticoats and ruffles in spring hues, although like a blak sheep you stood out, sitting amongst them in simple clothing and a shifting uncomfortable glance around. He was curious as to why you sat with them out of place.

He began to prepare, putting on the thick padded clothing and the cadmium green fabric over his head, the panels of fabric covering his back and front adorned with the crest he wore as a knight as well as the crest of his family. He fastened his belt around his waist loose and checked his sword, a blade without an edge as to not cause impairment

The haughty voice of the king flooded the open air, a man devoid of dignity and a fool of a king. True, tension and unease was rampant between the kingdoms since the time of the old queen and the king philip. “As you all have gathered here, your gratuitous and splendid king, me, hosts this tournament between knights and those who take up the sword! Besides the price of honor and gold, the champion shall also receive a blessing and kiss from the one of their choice” the fool of a king gestured towards the stands that you sat in with the noble women, “eligible noble women and the kingdoms beloved (y/n)” he laughed to himself as if this was a brilliant idea. “Have you anything to say to the competing knights and fighters?” the king asked. You glanced around the field as though your eyes were searching in vain for something you could not find, until with joy they landed on the figure close to the stands.

“Yes m’lord i do have something to say!” all eyes watched you as your figure leaned over the edge of the stands just far enough to almost reach the knight with tresses of feldgrau and nyanza green. He reached a hand up to yours, hardly bowed as to your outstretched one, but they were held together. “i already give my blessing to sir zigvolt!” you stated matter of factly, voice heard by all as whispers and murmurs sprouted like blackberry seeds. His face bloomed scarlet like spring carnations, the tips of his ears burning brighter in hue than even his pale skin. A prideful smile crept its way onto his face, chest inflating with confidence as he shot you a smug toothy gin. “I will win, with your blessing I will be victorious” as he turned away he paid no mind to the scowls and glares that followed the path he walked and saturated the air he breathed so thickly.

Settled now from the shock of your statement the stands where envied with new life, howling and whistling cheers rang in the spring air and filled the ears of over confident knights and fighters.

Carried by wisps of wind, sand and dirt shifted and settled like dancing plumes of smoke around the footing of those who fought in the dirt flores arena. The world mattered not for the knight who stood tall and unflinching in the face of a steel blade thrust towards him. It was mocking really, the way he rolled his sinewy shoulders as if warming up, the lightning step of his feet that kicked up dirt and how the pommel of his sword struck his opponents center back. He was showing off, proving his capability in hope his love would praise his skill, and call him their knight.

Another one defeated, dules passing by quickly as the knight's gaze became more intense, predatory as light cast the hard shadows of his strong features soft. To take up a sword seemed to come as naturally to the fae knight you watched as breathing, as being the same passionate yet sullen man you admired in your own secrecy just as he did. Even as he mounted a horse, confidence rolling off him in waves and floating like clouds to dampen the opponent in cowardice, he held an almost tangible pride, one that he wore on his shoulder and carried in his crest.

You sat enraptured at the edge of your seat, palms flexing against the wood as your breath caught in your throat. Birds flap their bright wings within your stomach and you refused yourself to blink for the anticipation was too much.

The lines of his head were creased in concentration, the long ple spiraling in green and white readied at his side, the way his jaw held firm and his lips pressed to a fine line, the way the cheers of the crowd faded to nothing more than a dull ringing in your ears as a grin split the heavens of your face and the knight opposite to the one you fancied was knocked off his horse. The hardened gaze that met yours held much more than pride and jovial victory, that old golden gaze held for only you a love that the fae had not harbored for another.

You raised from your seat as soon as the cheers of victory brought you back from his gase, and you traversed down to the pit where your prideful knight dropped to his knee, gloved hands folded over his knee and head lowered to a bow.

Gentle hands like flowerpetles cupped his face, and tilted it to meet your eyes. “Congratulations my valiant knight” you teased, yet with a touch soft as morning dew your lips fell to his hairline where nyanza green hair was slicked back, and there that touch of your lips lingered, and would continue to linger until he felt it again.

For love struck was the knight who kneeled to two, and prideful was the knight who held that image of you in his mind. Sturdy was the knight who held you in his arms when you fell not only for him but from that wall. Foolish was the knight, truly foolish was the knight who thought love would escape him, that it would not encroach on him like winding vines in such a fleeting moment. But even old legends tell tales of those mystic beings who dance in night time meadows and drink sweet cream and talk of magic amongst themselves, and who find love at a glance no matter how fleeting it may seem to those not blessed with the eyes to witness it. Yes prideful and foolish, and hopelessly in love was the knight who was blessed with those golden eyes laden with moss green. Blessed was he to have seen you sit on that tall wall, to watch violet roses bloom before him and foster those feelings of love.

Blessed was that prideful knight to see the beauty you held, and blessed was he to love it, for he would always love what even you could not see.

#sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland sebek #twst wonderland #twst x reader #disney twst #twst #squiddy<3 old fics

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quagswagon · 24 days

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Feel free to download this artwork here. I'm trying to get the ball rolling on my art shops, so downloads would help me a lot!

today, I observed the vine creatures once more. It's becoming clear that the creature is really only the vines, the wooden claws and faces aren't actually part of them. These wooden parts are passed down from the tribe's elders through some kind of ceremonial exchange. I'm not certain where these wooden pieces originally came from, but I have reason to believe they are from an extinct tree species that once formed symbiotic bonds with the vines

they are most visible in the mornings. I've seen them sprawled above the tree canopies, their vines sprouting leaves to collect sunlight. The process appears efficient—every leaf turned towards the sun as if performing a slow dance. They hide their leaves at night, presumably to make them more aerodynamic and quieter. I've tracked their movement down to predator-infested lakes where they gather water. It's fascinating—they hide their leaves during this time, likely as a stealth measure to avoid detection from predators. When cornered or threatened, they leave their wooden pieces and camouflage amidst the dense foliage

their social dynamics are strange. Unlike other species, size and brute strength do not determine status within their groups. Here, speed and stealth seem to be valued most. The leaders are often the ones with the smallest vines. The larger ones handle the manual tasks around their villages

there is not much to gain in hunting these creatures; they are rather peaceful and keep forests alive. When basking in the sunlight, they attach their roots to the trees beneath them, sharing any excess nutrients they gather. I've also seen the younger ones engaging in what looks like play—they toss around large tree nuts, inadvertently aiding in seed dispersal when these nuts break open

despite the creature's importance to the forests, some human nobles have taken to wearing their wooden faces as masks. These masks have become a symbol of status and power, a statement that the wearer has claimed a piece of the forest. To provoke the creatures into attacking, hunters wear these wooden masks themselves, taunting the creatures into attacking them

End of entry.

#art #digital art #digital illustration #fantasy #illustration #character design #creature #creature design #artists on tumblr

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thedansemacabres · 8 months

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Something I would like to see Dionysians do is support the small wine industry. Small time wineries struggle immensely, especially those that choose more sustainable grape practices. So, instead of simply buying bottles from the grocery store, you can try and experience small industry wine by:

Visiting wineries is the best and first exposure to wine, in fact, you can often get cheaper and higher quality bottles—as a winemaker, the best wines are reserved for wine clubs and tasting rooms.

Join winery wine clubs. They often have exclusive benefits and unique wines for their patrons.

Explore unique, rare, and nearly extinct grapes. Indigenous grape varieties often risk extinction by the “noble” varieties such as Chardonnay.

Learn about how the distribution of the wine industry works. Wines like barefoot are made cheaply, while more expensive bottles often have more cultural, social, etc., nunances.

Learn more about and explore the joys of wine, without shame or fear. It’s not as intimidating as people assume!

And most of all, enjoy wine. A good wine is a wine you enjoy. He is there, loving, serving glasses and tending to vines.

#currently taking a marketing class for wine #was thinking..#dionysus deity #dionysus devotee #dionysus worship #dragonis.txt #witchcraft #paganism #hellenic polytheism #witchblr #pagan #helpol #hellenic deities #hellenic paganism #hellenic pagan

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

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Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

This, Cinderella thinks, is a fairytale.

The nobles are bowing to the Prince, to her, and the air smells like the desserts on the table to her left. The music is still going, a sweet flute that serves a placeholder until the greetings to the prince are done. Over the bowed heads of the dancers nearest them, Cinderella can see her stepfamily curtsying to the arrival of the Prince.

Curtsying to her.

“I am glad that my tardiness did not hold up the festivities,” the Prince says. He inclines his head to the dais where the Queen and King sit. “We should resume.”

The Queen and King.

The Queen is as beautiful as the rumors say. Her long, black hair, streaked with grey, falls around her shoulders like vines, pinned into curled shapes against her violet gown with pins that sparkle like the night sky. She wears a simple gold circlet that glitters in the candlelight. Is it encrusted in jewels?

The King wears a heavier crown in burnished copper. His eyes remind her of the Prince’s, hawkish and knowing when he looks at them. He’s dressed completely in black except for the sash that crosses his chest. That is the same violet as his wife’s cape and his son’s jacket.

Cinderella is prevented from curtsying by the way the Prince presses her hand against his arm. She bows her head as best she’s able, heart thundering in her chest. Somehow looking at the Queen and King reminds her of the rainbows in the meadow. They swim in her vision as if obscured by power.

“Hold your head high,” the Prince whispers to her. His breath is hot against the shell of her ear and when she glances at him out of her peripherals, his eyes are warm. “You’re with me.”

Cinderella has never been with someone. She’s always been trailing behind, packages in hand, or at their knee with a hairbrush and sewing kit in hand. Even as a little girl she was never with her parents. She always felt like she was a step behind them, watching as the distance between them grew into an ocean.

She doesn’t feel like that now. The Prince’s arm is warm under her fingers and the gaze of so many people makes her face hot even if she knows the Prince’s magic protects her from being recognized. Cinderella has never felt so keenly in her own skin as she does in this moment.

Cinderella pulls her shoulders back and looks right over every noble to the blooming mosaic on the other side of the hall.

Well done, the voice in the back of her head purrs. There’s satisfaction curling in Cinderella’s stomach that feels foreign and heavy. She likes standing tall. She likes feeling bold and confident. Very well done.

“I know I promised you champagne,” the Prince says. He waves his hand and the music begins to play again. The nobles don’t resume their dance right away, their eyes fixed on the Prince’s every move. Expectant? Hopeful? Envious? The Prince only has eyes for her. “But I am jealous your first dance wasn’t with me.”

“Perhaps if someone had been on time it would have been,” Cinderella says. The Prince snorts and Cinderella’s smile widens. ��Your highness.”

The Prince leads her onto the dance floor. The band is gently coming together again, string instruments rising underneath the lonely flute, the pianist adjusting on their bench in preparation. The nobles part for them like water, sliding back into their places without a word.

The Prince comes to a halt in the center of the dancefloor. If he notices the way the nobles stare, it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slides his arm out from under Cinderella’s hand, but doesn’t relinquish it. He kiss the back of her hand and asks, “May I have this dance?”

Cinderella must be beet red. She breathes in through her nose and smiles on the exhale. “Yes.” Then, because he is her friend, “You’ll be the first to have a dance from me, if that makes you feel better. The rest only shared one with me.”

Does the Prince’s gaze soften? Candlelight catches in his eyes, setting them ablaze. “Having or sharing, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “As long as it’s with you.”

Cinderella is speechless. The Prince takes the opportunity to sweep them into their first dance together, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her hand aloft. She’s not ready or at all prepared for it and has to rely on his grip for support when she stumbles.

“Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” Cinderella hisses. She kicks at his shin and scoffs when he evades it easily. “Ugh.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s not how this dance goes,” the Prince says, tone mild. He’s smiling when she turns her glare on him. He whispers, “You’ll need to be faster if you want to kick me.”

Laughter bubbles in her chest. Cinderella fights it down. “You’d better show me how this dance works before I give into the temptation.”

“My pleasure.”

Dancing with the Prince is better than any of the other dances, though she doesn’t think she can bear to tell him that when he’s grinning like he knows it. He doesn’t guide her like Cy, her first masked partner, pulling and navigating her through the steps like a teacher might. He doesn’t make it a competition like Iz did, doesn’t change the rhythm whenever she manages to catch up to his pace. He isn’t considerate like Morrigan, waiting for her to catch her breath after a particularly tricky step.

Dancing with the Prince is like…it’s like being in the meadow. It’s like laying underneath the oak tree and watching the sun through the leaves, his gentle voice in her ear and the feeling of his magic chasing the chill away. It’s the feeling of being together where anything she says or does will be welcome or celebrated.

She doesn’t know when the other dancers join them, but she notices when the Prince nearly runs into a pair. She neatly takes the lead, spinning them to avoid a collision. The Prince startles and then scowls.

“I would have noticed,” he says. His gaze is dark on the dancing couple as if he’d like to curse them for the near accident.

“But you didn’t have to,” Cinderella says. Somehow she knows he isn’t that irritated. She thinks about spinning him but decides against it. She’s never tried spinning her partner before and is afraid of throwing him into the swirls of skirts and tailcoats that now surround them. She follows him away from the couple who nearly collided with them, surrendering the lead easily. “I did.”

“You did,” the Prince says, an inscrutable look on his face. It only lasts for a moment before he’s quirking an eyebrow at her. “Another song?”

Cinderella doesn’t feel tired at all. “Yes.”

They dance.

-----.

The night is a dream.

Cinderella holds onto it even after the Prince escorts her back to the Emerald Castle, after Helga pulls the pins from her hair, after she gulps down water and fruit before climbing into bed. They never did manage to have a glass of champagne. Cinderella can’t bring herself to regret the missed opportunity.

I’ll just have to try it tomorrow, Cinderella thinks with a thrill. Tomorrow. She’s going to the ball tomorrow.

She danced with the Prince all night. He delighted in each song with her, always keeping up with her mood and inviting her into faster steps or higher leaps. They talked and they laughed and, looking back, they must have seemed like children to everyone else. Cinderella felt like a child, free and excited in a way that she hasn’t been allowed to be in a long time.

She closes her eyes and can’t wait for the Prince to come pick her up for the ball tomorrow.

-----.

The carriage lurches and jumps as it transitions from the smooth Royal Road to the rougher cobblestones of the royal town. The silent occupants seem to wake up from their stupors all at once, the jostling as good as cold water on a dreamer.

“Mother,” Drizella whines. She doesn’t understand what went wrong. She did everything her mother said to do! She curled her hair and wore her lilac dress and didn’t dance with anyone other than the Prince. Except— “He only danced with her all night!”

“I have never been so embarrassed,” Anastasia says. She bites her thumb. Visions of the woman in green spin across the back of her eyelids every time she blinks. “We wore the same color! How dare she?!”

Baroness Ramsey doesn’t answer her daughters. She promised herself when she married the Baron that she would never allow anyone to guess at her non-noble past through her conduct. So she lets her face remain impassive and thinks carefully before she speaks.

Inside she is seething.

“That woman was in the wrong,” the Baroness says at last. She lays her hands daintily over her lap. “A ball like this – well. It’s for all noble ladies, isn’t it? The Prince was meant to dance with others. I’m sure the King and Queen will talk with him tonight. Tomorrow…”

She trails off. Her girls misunderstand as she meant them to. They perk up at the mention of tomorrow and the idea that the Prince will be different then. Anastasia begins debating what jewelry she will wear to compliment her gown tomorrow, going over the pros and cons of each one (“That woman wore gold tonight and won’t tomorrow, so the gold necklace might be the safest choice. But the prince wore silver tonight and might again and if I wear silver we could match.”) while Drizella pulls at her curls, lost in the daydream of what tomorrow could bring.

Inside the baroness is not so sure.

“A second invitation will be sent to those the Prince has taken an interest in. Expect news by dawn.”

They are not high nobility. It is only through the baroness’ hard work and clever deals that they’re nobility at all. Perhaps it would be different if her husband were better at networking like her, but he’s not (if he’s still alive at all) so they have no advantage through title alone. Their only advantage lies in her daughters’ beauty being recognized and – thanks to that woman – that didn’t happen.

Maybe I was hasty to leave Cinderella at home, the Baroness muses. Cinderella would have caught the Prince’s eye. There’s always been something…unsettlingly compelling about that girl. To be honest, the Baroness has always been a little afraid of Cinderella. Even as a child she always seemed to look through the Baroness rather than at her. With her golden hair and odd, light eyes, Cinderella would have been enough to compete with the woman who had captured the Prince’s attention. Then, when the second invitation arrived, the baroness could have kept Cinderella away to leave the real work to her girls.

She eyes her daughters. No. She could not have chosen any differently. It’s been hard work ensuring her daughters never grew afraid of their strange stepsister. Imagine if they were forced to watch the prince be bewitched by her? The baroness was right to leave Cinderella at home, dressed plainly, rather than allow her daughters to see through the soot and rough clothing to the strange, menacing woman beneath.

“We will stay up all night until the invitation arrives,” the Baroness announces. She won’t be able to sleep anyway. “I want each of you to go over every detail of tonight. Who did you notice? What could you have improved on? We will need to be even better tomorrow.”

Anastasia and Drizella complain, but the Baroness tunes them out. She knows what’s best for her daughters. If she says that they need to go over noble greeting they say, every pin, every broach, every conversation, they will.

It will come, she tells herself. The Prince may not have noticed her daughters, but the Queen was certainly interested in them. She seemed particularly interested in Drizella. Perhaps she will be the one to choose the prince’s bride. Yes, that must be it. She was too attentive to my daughters for that not to be the case.

The second invitation will come. The carriage squeaks to a halt outside of their inn and the baroness waits impatiently for the coachman to open the door. Yes, her earlier concerns were born from anxiety. Obviously the Prince won’t choose his own bride. Clearly! He’s a prince and princes must marry based on their parents’ wills. She, a baroness, wouldn’t allow her daughters to choose their husbands. Certainly the Queen, a fellow noble mother, feels much the same.

Cheered, the Baroness doesn’t yell for the coachman to hurry up helping her daughters down from the carriage. Anastasia does it instead and her Capital accent is even beginning to sound convincing! Drizella nearly falls when the coachman supports her step down too weakly, but her recovery is much quicker than it would have been two years ago.

Yes, the baroness must not lose herself to anxiety. She’s raised her daughters well and that will all pay off when she sees one of them married to the prince. Perhaps she should talk to the Queen herself tomorrow? Mother to mother?

Yes, that’s the best plan. She’ll leave her girls to the business of catching the eye of the prince. If they prove successful, wonderful. If not?

The Baroness hides her smile. There’s a reason she came to the ball despite the invitation not including mothers of the potential brides.

-----------.

Three important invitations are delivered at dawn.

One is snatched by the Baroness who breathes a sigh of relief that she must hide from her daughters.

The second is handed to Helga who rolls her eyes at the redundancy and promises to deliver it to her charge once she wakes.

The third is delivered via raven to a lone man on the road on horseback. He holds his arm above his head as soon as he recognized the purple ribbon tied around the bird’s neck, barely flinching when its talons cut through his thin, traveling shirt.

“A summons?” the man asks. The bird does not answer. It takes off as soon as he unties the message from its leg. He flips the letter over to examine the seal. His stomach lurches. “From the Queen?”

He can’t ignore a letter from the Queen. With a sigh, the man turns his horse gently before even breaking the seal. The Queen only accepts replies in person. A bitterness coats his tongue.

Another letter has brought him back to his ancestral home. A very important letter from someone he’s been forced to leave alone too long. And now, barely four days’ ride from the sender, he’s forced to ignore her once again.

I’m coming, Cinderella. Just a little longer.

Baron David Ramsey has been away from home for too long.

If you’d like to read more parts of Cinderella a week earlier, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! On top of posting all my stories a week earlier there, I also post Patreon Exclusives.

#Cinderella fan fiction #my writing #cinderella retelling #this is turning into a full novella #this is why i write short stories #BECAUSE BOOKS GET SO LONG #long post

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