#peasant girl with roses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pxnsneverland · 3 months

Text

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 8)

(gif source: rcbertleckie)

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 2770

warnings/notes: violence, blood

Chapter 8: The Predator's Dance

That night, the ball was in full swing. The grand hall of Austin's estate was transformed into a spectacle of opulence and light. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the high ceilings, casting a shimmering glow over the dozens of elegantly dressed attendees who mingled and danced across the polished marble floor. The air was perfumed with the scent of fresh roses and lilacs, meticulously arranged in ornate vases throughout the room.

Violet, escorted by Austin, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the grandeur of the event. She was clad in a gown of silk and lace that whispered against her skin with every step, its hues of deep violet making her feel part of the aristocratic tapestry around her. Yet, amidst the laughter and music, she caught the occasional glance—curious or calculating—from some of the guests, reminding her that she was an outsider in this glittering world. As they moved through the crowd, Austin's hand rested lightly on the small of her back, a subtle gesture that both comforted and claimed. Violet felt every eye upon them; the weight of scrutiny was palpable. Each smile that was directed their way held an edge, a shadow of something not quite revealed, and she clung to Austin’s presence like a lifeline.

The music swelled, a classical piece that filled the room with its commanding beauty. Austin leaned down, his voice barely above a whisper amidst the din of conversation. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Violet hesitated for only a moment before nodding. As they stepped onto the dance floor, she found herself drawn into a world where only they existed. Austin’s movements were graceful and sure, his familiarity with the dance evident as he led them effortlessly. The feel of his hand in hers, the firmness of his grip on her waist, it all felt dangerously exhilarating.

As they danced, Violet noticed the way others watched Austin—a mixture of respect and unease that intrigued her. He was clearly a man of power and mystery here, just as he was outside this grand hall. Yet as he danced with her, there was a tenderness and attentiveness that seemed at odds with the formidable figure others saw.

Just as Violet was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm of the dance and the assurance of Austin's embrace, a sudden interruption came. A tall, dark-haired stranger stepped smoothly into their dance circle. With a polite yet firm tone, he addressed Austin, "May I cut in?" His piercing eyes locked onto Violet's with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

Austin's grip tightened momentarily, a slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his reluctance. “Phillip, I didn’t expect you to answer my invitation.”

Phillip's smile was thin, almost predatory as he assessed the situation. "Yet, here I am," he replied smoothly. His gaze shifted back to Violet, taking in her appearance with an appreciative eye that made her skin crawl slightly. "It would be a shame not to take the opportunity to dance with such a charming guest."

Violet felt Austin's reluctance through his tightening hold, sensing the tension that surged between the two men. It was clear there was a history there, one fraught with as much competitiveness as careful politeness. But Austin’s voice retained its composure as he responded, his hands still firmly holding Violet. “There are plenty of women here probably more eager to keep you company this evening.”

Phillip chuckled, his gaze never wavering from Violet's. "Perhaps, but I find myself particularly intrigued by—I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Violet Everly,” she greeted her gaze moving between Austin and Phillip.

Phillip, despite Austin still holding onto Violet, took her hand and kiss it. His lips lingered almost as if he was savoring something. “Phillip Mormont. A pleasure.”

Violet’s heart raced at the contact, unease curling in her stomach. The touch was far too intimate, too knowing. She withdrew her hand as politely as she could, instinctively moving closer to Austin.

Austin’s voice was a low growl, audible only to Violet and Phillip. “She’s under my protection, Mormont.” It was a clear warning, one that seemed to amuse Phillip even more.

“Oh, come now, Butler,” Phillip replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We’re all civilized here, aren’t we? I merely wish to share a dance with the lady.”

Violet looked up at Austin, seeking reassurance in his icy blue gaze. There was a storm there, barely held at bay. He nodded slightly, granting permission but never releasing her completely. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led away by Phillip into the swirling throng of dancers.

Phillip was an excellent dancer, his movements smooth and assured. Yet there was an underlying tension that Violet couldn’t ignore. His hand on her waist held her a little too tightly, his smile a little too sharp. “You are quite the mystery, Miss Everly,” he murmured as they moved across the floor. “A delicate flower among thorns.”

Violet managed a polite smile, though her mind raced with anxiety. “And you, Mr. Mormont, seem quite at home among those thorns.”

Phillip chuckled darkly. “One must adapt to survive in environments such as these.” His eyes scanned the room, never truly focusing on her. “Tell me, what is your impression of our host? He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

Violet glanced briefly towards where Austin stood, his gaze fixed on them, an unspoken intensity in his eyes. She chose her words carefully, aware that every phrase might be analyzed for deeper meaning. “Lord Butler is... complex.”

Phillip’s eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. “Ah, very diplomatically put, Miss Everly. Austin has many layers indeed. Some darker than others.” His tone suggested a deeper knowledge of Austin’s secrets, hinting at shared histories Violet could only guess at.

As the dance continued, Violet felt increasingly uneasy. Phillip’s presence was commanding, yet there was a coldness to him that made her long for the safety of Austin’s arms. His casual references to darkness and hidden depths seemed like veiled threats or perhaps clues meant to unset him.

Finally, the music began to slow, the song reaching its end. Violet had never felt more relieved to see a dance conclude. Phillip seized the opportunity as the last notes lingered in the air. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper against the music's fading echo. "Miss Everly, might I steal you away for a moment? There's something on the balcony I believe you would find most intriguing."

Violet hesitated, her eyes instinctively seeking Austin in the crowd. The intensity of his gaze had not waned; if anything, it sharpened, slicing through the sea of bodies that separated them. Despite Phillip's charming smile, a shiver traced the length of her spine. She knew she ought to decline, to return to Austin's side where an unspoken promise of safety lay. However, curiosity and a reckless streak of defiance nudged her forward.

"Very well, Mr. Mormont," she replied, her voice steady though her heart was not. "But only for a moment."

Phillip's smile widened as he offered his arm, which she took with reluctant grace. As they navigated through the throng of revelers, Violet felt every pair of eyes on them—judging, calculating. The cool night air brushed against her skin as Phillip guided her through an ornate set of French doors onto the secluded balcony.

The balcony itself was draped in shadows and moonlight, overlooking an expanse of restless gardens where shadows danced between the whispering trees. The air was fragrant with late blooms of jasmine and a hint of something darker, like earth freshly turned.

Phillip leaned against the balustrade, his eyes capturing the moonlight and reflecting it like some predatory nocturnal creature. He watched her closely, a smirk playing on his lips as he traced the line of her jaw with his gaze. "This view is one of my favorites. The way the moonlight plays with the darkness, it's almost as if the night whispers secrets just for us," he murmured, his voice smooth and enticing.

Violet felt an uneasy tremor in her heart at his words. His proximity was unsettling, and she was acutely aware of how isolated they were on this shadow-draped balcony. Despite the beauty of the scene before her, Violet couldn’t shake off the feeling of being a bird lured into a snare.

Phillip turned to face her fully, stepping closer than social decorum would dictate. "You know, Miss Everly," he began, his voice low and beguiling, "there is much about Austin Butler that remains shrouded in mystery. Even someone as close as I am can never be too sure where his allegiances lie."

Violet’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by his forwardness and the underlying threat in his tone. Her instincts screamed that Phillip was playing a dangerous game—one that involved her as an unwitting pawn between two powerful adversaries.

"And where do your allegiances lie, Mr. Mormont?" Violet asked, trying to mask her unease with a tone of casual inquiry.

"Oh, my dear," Phillip chuckled lightly, his eyes glinting with unspoken knowledge. "My allegiances are flexible and often align with... shall we say, the most intriguing opportunities. Just as I find you, Miss Everly, exceedingly intriguing." His gaze bore into her with an intensity that belied his casual words.

Violet felt the chill of unease snake down her spine as Phillip's presence loomed closer. She was acutely aware of how removed they were from the safety and watchful eyes inside the ballroom. The glint in Phillip's eyes turned sharper, like that of a hawk eyeing its prey, his interest palpable and unsettling. Violet could feel each word he uttered woven with dark threads meant to ensnare her thoughts and fears. She struggled internally, her desire to flee clashing with her growing curiosity about Austin and the dark web she found herself caught within.

Phillip moved a step closer, eliminating any remnant space that might have suggested propriety. His hand brushed against hers, an accidental touch that sent a jolt through her body. "You see, Violet," he said softly, using her first name in a manner too intimate for their acquaintance. His fingers encircled her wrist moving it up to his lips. He sniffed deeply, his mouth watering slightly. “Austin holds so much restraint. Restraint many of us don’t have.”

Violet tried to pull away, but his grip as like iron. “Release me, Mr. Mormont.”

Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and defiance, but Phillip only smiled—a chilling expression that didn't reach the coldness in his eyes. "Oh, I think not, Violet. Not until I have discovered just what it is about you that so captivates Lord Butler."

With a swift movement, Phillip spun her so her back was against the stone railing, her escape routes effectively blocked by his imposing figure. The moon above bathed the scene in an eerie silver light, casting long, dark shadows across the balcony that seemed to dance like specters in the corner of Violet's eye.

"I believe it’s time you and I had a more... profound connection," Phillip whispered, his breath caressing her cheek as he leaned closer. Violet's heart pounded in her chest, each beat resonating with an urgent plea to flee. Yet physically overwhelmed and emotionally outmatched, she found herself paralyzed under his mesmerizing gaze.

His fingers tightened around her wrist, his other hand gently but firmly holding her chin, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze. "Shh," he hushed, as if comforting a child, though his eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation.

With a sudden pang of horror, Violet felt the sharp prick of Phillip’s teeth against her wrist. The pain was sharp and immediate, and she gasped out loud—a desperate sound muffled by the night air. His lips locked around the bite, drinking deeply in slow, deliberate pulls that made Violet’s head spin. The world tilted on its axis; the edges of her vision grew dim as an icy chill spread through her veins.

Phillip continued to drink greedily, lost in the pleasure of the moment, his grip unyielding. Violet's struggles weakened as her energy waned, her thoughts becoming foggy and disjointed. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. Phillip pulled his mouth away from Violet, his lips smeared with crimson, his expression one of annoyance. He reluctantly released Violet, who collapsed against the railing.

Phillip straightened up, wiping his mouth nonchalantly with the back of his hand as he faced Austin. "Ah, Butler," he said coolly, his tone mocking. "Your timing is impeccable as always."

Austin's eyes blazed with a fury that seemed to ignite the very air around him, his tall, imposing figure framed against the moonlit sky like some avenging angel descended into hell. His voice, when he spoke, was calm but carried a dangerous undercurrent, "Mormont, I would advise you to choose your next actions very carefully."

Phillip turned fully, examining Austin with the casual disdain of a man who believed himself untouchable. He smirked, his dark eyes flickering between Violet and Austin. "Oh? And what would you suggest I do, Lord Butler?”

"Your quarrel is with me," Austin said icily. "Leave her out of this.”

Phillip laughed softly, a sound devoid of any true mirth. "Always the protector, aren't you, Austin? But tell me, do you protect her out of affection or are you merely guarding your possession?" Austin's jaw tightened visibly at the provocation making Phillip’s smile grow wider. “Tell me, Austin. Have you tasted her yet? She’s quite delicious. Don’t you want just one little bite?”

Austin’s eyes darted to Violet who’s wrist was still bleeding. He licked his dry lips, his hunger urging him to finish off where Phillip started. But the fear in Violet’s eyes fortified his restraint. “Take your leave, Mormont.”

Phillip's laughter echoed off the stone walls of the balcony, a chilling sound that mingled with the whispering wind. "You dictate terms as if you command the night itself," he taunted, stepping back with a theatrical bow that dripped with sarcasm. "But remember, there are things even you cannot control, Lord Butler."

As he straightened, his gaze lingered on Violet, who was trying to regain her composure, her hand pressed against the wound on her wrist. Phillip's eyes glinted dangerously. "We shall see how long your noble intentions last in this game." With those parting words, he turned and vanished into the shadows from whence he came, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Austin moved quickly to Violet's side, his expression a mixture of concern and latent rage. He took her injured wrist gently in his hands, examining the bite marks with a furrowed brow. “Come, I shall tend to that—”

“What are you?” Violet demanded. She kept her distance from him pressing her back to the wall as if she could meld through it.

Austin paused, his blue eyes searching her face for signs of fear and anger. He sighed, a weight seemingly lifted yet immediately replaced by another, heavier burden. “I am what I must be,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Much like Phillip, but not by choice—by necessity.”

Violet's heart hammered in her chest as she absorbed his words. The world she knew seemed to crumble around her, yet there was a strange sense of revelation in understanding the enigma that was Austin Butler. “You’re a vampire,” she stated, not as a question but as an acknowledgment of the truth she had already known deep down.

Austin did not flinch at the word. Instead, he nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yes,” he admitted, and it seemed with that single word, the distance between them lessened, if only just slightly. “I have fought against this nature all my life, striving to retain the humanity within me.”

Violet felt a chill run down her spine, not from fear but from the cold truth of her situation. She was in the presence of monsters dressed in human skins, creatures of the night that fed on the living. “Don’t touch me!” She scrambled to her feet keeping a tight grip on her bleeding wrist with her other hand.

“Violet…” Austin rose slowly keeping his distance as she requested no matter how much it pained him to see her so afraid of him.

“No! No, no! You stay away from me!” She dashed back into the manor pushing through the crowd of people at the ball. She ran up the grand staircase to her room slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure.

Stay tuned for part 9!! Click HERE to view!

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @imusicaddict

76 notes · View notes

insomniac-dot-ink · 4 months

Text

The City of the Dead

The city of the dead have no mouths to speak with. No minds to form reason. Memories and memories and memories that do not order themselves. In the ruins in the barrens on the edge of the world, skeletons began to walk. No one could answer why the dead rose in one small pocket of the world and forgot to sleep again.

Holy men, alchemists, kings, and living martyrs all traveled to the great ruins of Makan and watched the walking. Bones that carried broken stones from one edge to the other. Kneeling figures that clapped their hands to an unknown rhythm. Spirits burst from wells and poltergeists flung rotted wood at strangers. Yet, the dead did not speak. They were asked of their names, their families, what led them back from the beyond. What necromancer would do this.

They did not wage war. Nor do they pick up swords. The dead were not peaceful perhaps but neither were they purposeful. Makan was an old city, ancient beyond memory, and deserted once the nearest river was dammed and diverted. They were ruins that hung off a cliffside and turned brilliant red against the rising sun. A place of scholarship and history–until it became something more.

Bodies rattling, teeth clattering, voices of faded spirits like the wind through craigs and singing through tree branches. Some pilgrims swear the dead call their name when they aren’t looking. Others claim they are watching, judging, deciding who will be pure enough to deserve salvation. Still others say they are empty vessels simply caught on repeat–the same routine daily, weekly, yearly for eternity. A meaningless display turned sensational.

They were famous after all. A skeleton which pushed a baby carrier down the center road from dawn to dusk named the Mother. The well witch who cackled and splashes anyone that passed. The tower Stranger with one arm and one leg who watched anyone who entered, skull swiveling in place. A ghost that rang the church bells–one that people rumor calls your name if you pass too close. Others say it is not your name, but the name of the person you should marry.

The theories were limitless. A place of unimaginable power and limitless looping. And no one to take credit, rally the armies, or put them to rest. Pilgrims came and went. Queens and princes and priests blessed and cursed the place, tried to burn or drown the inhabitants, claimed ordinance or forbade their citizens to make the trek to the ruins in the barrens on the edge of the world.

In the second dawn of the God-Priest Amix III, a final pilgrimage was made. A Holy Child had been once more chosen from the masses of orphans found in the priestly empire. Dark-eyed and solemn, they were hand-picked for their docile nature. A toddler given a steady diet of jelly the color of stars and flavor of chilled mint. In other countries, they call it Prophecy Meats and treat it as a rare delicacy and dangerous altering substance. The Holy Child, chosen for endurance or perhaps very little at all, is given this steady diet of Stars until they can see the past and present all at once.

The Holy Child of this generation, a girl no more than eight, had survived her first years of seeing the wars and joys and horrors to come. She was dying, of course, and the attendant-nun had become attached. Sister Grehn was warned against such things. Told to keep her distance and remember their purpose, great and beautiful. Sister Grehn begged and pleaded and said, why not take her to the sea? The mountains? Any place that might help her lungs. Take her to healers of other lands.

She got the city of the dead. Sister Grehn carried the Holy Child, too small for her age and eyes as big as black holes, close. “Would you like to see the well, little one?” The nun whispered. “The funny skeleton pushing the baby carriage?”

The Holy Child, who privately kept her birth name, looked up. Nima, a peasant name, a rabbit name, felt the press against her eye sockets. She gave a long exhale. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. They are like me.”

Sister Grehn held her tightly to her chest, mouth turning into a battle line. No, not here, she thought. Please.

The Holy Child closed her eyes and whispered, “They are tired.”

Even eternity has an end and the Holy Child spoke the last words of the city of the dead to her first friend and one she privately called something else. “Mom, the river is not gone. The river is all.”

There are many types of spirits, life beyond life, and memories that do not forget how to rush down the land and twist across stone. The wizards that diverted the mighty river centuries before had used magic, darker stuff to do a simple job, cut corners to avoid the wrath of a king or priest or any other towering sovereign who are all the same. The water moved. The soul went elsewhere. The spirit of the river burst through the ruins of Manak. And tried with all its might to live again.

FIN

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

Join my mailing list 🌼 Check out my new book!

#flash fiction #spilled ink #fantasy fiction #short story #original work #flash fic #epic fantasy

139 notes · View notes

fantasy-relax · 2 months

Text

Sweet Alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 12 Part 13

Writing the instructions for Lucia's “special care,” anger at the words spoken against her made her blood burn but remembering the abuse you had been subjected to caused her to lose control of her strength destroying the pencil in her hand.

Again.

Opening her desk drawer, she took out another one and continued writing however her thoughts continued to wander.

How is it possible that Bela was incapable of watching over a human?

If she doesn't have time to pay attention to you then she should have left you under her command at least she would have something to distract herself while her punishment is revoked.

“Alpha accepted her punishment even though she was only fulfilling her duty to defend us.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes at the Omega's sad statement from her.

“Oh, yes the powerful Alpha defended us from the cruel and evil servant, I'll finish writing this and I'll go look for her to blow her as a reward.”

“…”

An image of her stay with you crossed her mind causing her to drop her pencil in favor of covering her face grunting in annoyance as she felt the heat of her blush.

"Your fault"

"Be quiet"

She hated how you acted like a weakling when she remembered perfectly how you had no problem forcing her to submit to your will of course that she was the one who had total control over the situation using you to satisfy that stupid need that had been annoying her for years.

You are just a tool to deal with her Heat she will use you until your life comes to an end and when her Omega starts acting insufferable again, she will simply look for a new distraction.

Of course, if you don't end up dead first because of another error on Bela's part.

Miss Perfect thinking she knows everything when she can't even take care of a starving peasant alpha.

With how easy it is for to leave the smallest amount of the swarm to watch over you.

Closing her eyes she focuses on the part of her that she left in your room.

She only does it because she knows you're useless in taking care of yourself.

The first thing she sees is how you jump out of bed even though you should still be resting, you really are an imbecile.

“Alpha is very careless with her health”

“An Idiot is what she is.”

She dodges your attacks with ease before showing mercy and leaving only a fly with you.

The last thing she needs is for you to get hurt again.

Letting out a laugh as she sees how you resign yourself to her presence, she rests on your neck.

“How warm”

“It's nothing special”

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

Normal, being treated like that is completely normal for you.

“How dare them to treat our Alpha like that!”

Insults? Normal.

“Filthy bitch” “Disgusting rat” “Scum”

Violence? Normal.

*BAM* “How dare you?!”

The pain made her vomit the little she had eaten.

Contempt? Normal.

"You can bandage yourself; I don't understand why you look for me, that's weakness S¨***, you shouldn't be weak"

“Cassandra”

Breathing hurts, moving hurts.

“Cassandra”

“You should never show weakness, or do you want to end up like your mother?”

“Cassandra!”

“Be used and discarded”

The smell of putrefaction is overwhelming.

“Cassandra?”

“Killed by a parasite”

Rot.

“Cassandra?”

She didn't ask to be born, father.

Rot.

"My girl"

Roses

"You are safe"

Roses

"You are at home"

Roses

“Mom will never hurt you.”

Mother

Returning to the present, the first thing she sees is her mother kneeling in front of her with her arms outstretched waiting patiently for her. Cassandra jumps up hugging her neck, hiding her face on it, immersing her in a scent that promises security and love, hands capable of breaking marble gently stroke her back, the ringing in her ears drowned out by the purring coming from her mother's chest.

Mother, Alcina Dimitrescu.

The images Memories fade like water between fingers.

The normal.

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

Entering her studio, the first thing she does is go to her easel. Which, while old is in good condition.

*CRACK*

With a light squeeze the wood is fractured which is more than enough to justify needing a new one.

“Our sisters should stay away from our Alpha.”

Her sisters spend more time with you than with her she should have stopped it as soon as she found out about the private classes.

Cassandra had to use all her self-control not to growl as she talked knowing full well that her sisters would use it against her.

“We knew that Daniela wouldn't think twice before touching”

The smell of the sweets that her younger sister unceremoniously devoured hid yours easily.

Also, why the fuck does Bela know that detail about you? You are supposed to have a separate room to sleep in, you had nothing to do in any other room specially her sister's.

“Alpha shouldn't wear our sister's clothes.”

Bela was the one who punished you unjustly, why did you forgive her so quickly?

“To avoid conflicts in the Pack”

Still, why did you agree to wear her clothes?

Do you also prefer her older sister?

"Is not like that"

Have you already wandered off?

“No, Alpha wouldn't do that.”

Towards the responsible, maternal and feminine Bela.

“Alpha is ours!”

The Perfect Woman.

"Ours!"

If Bela had been an omega...

“Alpha not…”

Would you have chosen her over her?

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

“I gave you clear instructions and you still do it wrong. Didn't my sisters teach you to read?”

Others would have run with their tail between their legs upon hearing the venom in her voice, you stood firm and despite the air of seriousness with which you acted, your scent gave you away.

Happiness, adoration, sadness, determination.

Every time she visited the workshop, the moment you noticed her presence you stopped everything you were doing to focus all your attention on her.

"As it should be"

Growling to avoid purring, she destroyed the six easels you had created in one day in seconds.

“Again, and don't use so much varnish this time.”

“Whatever you want, Lady Cassandra.”

She left the workshop ignoring her omega's protests to stay with you longer.

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

Cassandra can't help but rub her eyes and pinch her arm hard to make sure she's woken up from her nap.

“It's not a dream” The Omega comments despite sharing the same confusion.

In front of her is an Alpha kneeling with her head lowered and in her hands is a white rabbit's fur, the skin is white as snow without cuts that detract from its beauty, simply impeccable.

“For you Lady Cassandra.”

“A courting gift”

At what point do she grab it?

“Sweet alpha, good alpha”

Clenching her jaw she threw the fur to the ground.

"NO"

“Pathetic,” Making sure to keep her tone of voice neutral, she spoke. “You couldn't even complete my order and you come with more garbage, out of my sight.”

“Take it back! Apologize!” Despair and anger emanated from her omega.

"Shut up!"

A voice distracted her from the discussion.

“If you don't want it, I'll keep it, after all it's too nice a gift to be wasted.” Bela held her fur carefully in her hands. “There's no problem, right, Alpha?”

“It's our gift!”

She could feel the blood on her palm, her nails had pierced her skin.

“No problem, Bela.”

“Alpha stop! How can you do this?” She didn't know if the question was towards her or towards you.

“White looks good on me, don't you think?”

"Take it back!"

The blonde caressed your cheek, and you rested your face on it closing your eyes calmly.

“You are so sweet, dear Alpha.”

*THUMP*

“Our gift…”

"I don't care"

“Our alpha…”

"I don't care"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I don't care"

“She would hate us…”

"I don't care"

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't care"

"I am you…"

“…”

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

From that day on her omega remained silent, she felt her presence but not a sound came from her.

It was what she had always wanted so why the hell did she feel so bad?

Her visits to the workshop continued, the easels you made were perfect however the mere thought that you would go after her sisters the moment you had more free time caused her immense fury that led her to destroy it to avoid it.

Your visits also continued and the silence in her mind remained.

Even after seeing her sisters show off the gifts that she had rejected, her omega did not utter the slightest complaint or comment.

The discomfort inside her grew more every second.

“Cass, I really can't believe you reject gifts as beautiful as these.” Just hearing Bela's voice caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

“Alpha is really a sweetheart, she is so gentle and hard-working,” Daniela commented as she walked next to her, “it would be a waste to leave her alone, I think I'm going to ask her if she wants to be my mat-

The redhead didn't finish her sentence before being pushed with such force that she went through the wall and the bookshelf behind it.

Transforming into her swarm Cassandra left before Bela could reproach her for her actions.

Silence, in her mind there was only silence.

It was then that she felt it, her Heat had arrived.

And everything turned black.

#resident evil village #cassandra dimitrescu #my work #omegaverse

72 notes · View notes

achaoticeternal · 1 year

Text

nothing between us

aemond targaryen x reader part two - can’t you see...? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ word count: 3.6k summary: under the influence of his mother, Aemond has followed the Faith of the Seven closely. The second son of the King is proud to meet a young noble Lady who shares the Faith as closely as he does. a/n: there will be a part two :) warnings: AFAB reader, theme of obsession, religious themes and guilt

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And may the Mother and Father watch over us as we walk in light…” The prayer rolled off your tongue with a finish. With a nod of your head, you finally rose from your spot at the altar.

The High Septon bid a dismissal as the halls of the sept began to clear. Your mother linked arms with you, serving as your guide through the crowd. She kept a warm smile on her face, nodding to both nobles and peasants alike. Though your father was just behind you, not showing the same warmth to the general public as your mother.

You continued to follow out the doors, the sun shining brilliantly upon the capital. The light bounced off the blue waters, reflecting beautifully onto the shore. It had been either overcast or raining for the past week or so. But a day of sun was something you would truly thank the Mother for later.

As you continued to be tugged along down the steps of the sept, your arms slipped out of your mother's, instead lifting up your skirt to be more diligent with your steps. In the courtyard below, merchants and spinsters began to announce their wears, bidding anyone who dared to take a look. Usually, they would be selling more exotic things than they would on any other day.

With a giggle, your steps picked up as you tapped your mother on the shoulder, “We must stop by one of the book stands! I’ve read practically everything I can access in the prince’s and king’s library. A book from afar would be a welcome distraction!”

“You and your books…” Your father chuckled behind you, patting your back, “You’ll have to choose quickly, the Hand is summoning the Small Council to convene once that bell strikes two.”

With a nod, you picked up your steps, hoping to get to the book stand sooner. However, you were stuck behind a group of stragglers who cared to chat far more than they cared to walk. A sigh passed your lips as you continued trying to move around the group and reach your destination soon. You were able to press yourself against the wall in order to squeeze through the small gaps the group of elders made. When bumping past them, you whisper small apologies and pardons.

It isn’t until you are fully around the group of elders offering you small smiles that you are able to take large strides. You take the steps two at a time, hoping to beat the rush of the audience fleeing from the sept this morning. A smile spans across your face as you eye the end of the stairs, close enough that you feel the sparks of gratification stir inside. Accounting for the commoners surrounding you, your steps continue light and quick against the cobblestone.

Yet what you did not account for was a mother and her two small children toddling next to her. The little girl drops her wood carving of a bear which tumbles down the stairs. As the toddler leans down to grab her belonging, you take a swift sidestep to avoid falling upon her or her mother. And just as quickly as relief passes through you, your foot dips into a small hole in the ground, causing your balance to unfavorably sway. Your hands can cling to nothing to keep you up and so you feel yourself free fall into the courtyard.

You brace yourself for an impact that never comes. Instead, two firm arms have caught you, saving you from any injury of landing so roughly.

“May the Seven bless you! Thank you,” The words spill from your lips as you regain your footing, standing to meet whoever has come to your aid. The breath exits your body as you meet, the violet eye of one Prince Aemond Targaryen. A dark cloak hangs over his shoulders, the hood pulled up most likely to hide his silver blond hair from straying eyes. If not for your somewhat familiarness with the royal family, you might have dismissed him as another stroller in the courtyard. Except you do recall seeing him and the Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, observing the service in the sept just mere moments ago. The only other indicator to confirm that it is the Prince is the two King’s Guard that has joined his side, their shoulders relaxing when they recognize your noble appearance.

“My-”

“My lady,” Aemond is quick to cut you off, clearly wishing not to be recognized, “May I ask where you were rushing off so quickly? It seems patience might not be among your virtues.”

Before you can properly answer him, you feel a hand on your shoulder -- your father who bows his head slightly in observance to the prince, “I apologize for my daughter’s clumsiness, ser.”

Aemond’s face remains stoic as he addresses your father, “All is well, my Lord. Perhaps we might thank the Seven that your daughter fell into my arms, rather than injuring herself or others on the abrasive ground.”

A pause lingers for a moment as your father tries to find his next words. Should he thank the prince? Correct his daughter before the royal before him? Instead, you reply to the prince’s original question.

“There is a book stall that is only in the market once a moon with books from across the sea. I’ve almost read everything in the royal libraries, so I hoped to find a new text to read,” Your tone was polite, and kind when addressing the prince. You almost swore to the Mother that the corners of Aemond’s lips twitched into a smile before his disposition settled once more.

“Enjoy your noon then, I hear the Hand has summoned the small council and tends to busy them later” the Prince spoke with a nod, “my Lord, my Lady.”

And just like that, the Prince and his guards have almost dissipated among the crowd. They are undoubtedly returning to the Red Keep, yet you wonder why the Prince did not join his mother in the royal carriage. But the thought leaves your mind just as quickly as your parents escort you to the book stand, not wishing for you to cause another scene.

The sun has fallen past midday and your father has long left you and your mother to attend the meeting in the Hand’s tower. While your Lord Father attended to work and the realm, you entertained your mother in one of the social dens of the Keep. Your mother was currently perched on a chair by the window, completing some needlework. In the chair opposite to her, there you sat with the religious text of the Faith in your lap.

This was Sunday tradition, and even if your father could not be in attendance, you would not deny your obligation to thank the Seven for all they do for you, your family, and the realm. Though you knew nearly every passage by heart, your mother insisted you read so as not to be distracted from the outside temptations of the world.

But the book only kept your attention to a certain extent. Your mother was too enamored by her craft to notice when your eyes strayed from the pages and to the people that passed through the Keep. It was mainly guards going about their duties, and servants tending to wherever they must, but even Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon made a pass through.

Both the Targaryen princes were walking in the direction of the Hand’s Tower. Most likely to participate in the Small Council meeting as a part of their royal duties. After living almost two moons in the castle, you noticed that the elder brother, Aegon, did not share the same satisfaction in performing his tasks as Aemond did. Once you swore that you watched Aemond nearly drag his brother to one of the council meetings, but you would never vocalize such.

Here they were, the Targaryen princes, strolling through the corridor. Aegon was currently speaking but was too distant to make out what he quite said. You only assumed it to be a joke as he laughed while Aemond seemed less than entertained. But with a slight turn of his head, the younger prince caught sight of you, continuing your readings to your mother. He noted the book in your lap, familiar with it himself due to his time with his own mother, and offered you a nod.

A moment later, the princes were gone. It was as if you had only imagined it, in fact, you could have convinced yourself the slight interaction had never happened. Except your mother spoke up when she noticed you had fallen silent, “Continue reading, dear.”

Days passed and with it, routine settled into place. Consistently socializing with the other nobles taking residence within the Keep, attending septa lessons, and continuing your residency in the library. However, a new commonality slithers into your routine. At least once a day, your path would cross with Prince Aemond, just briefly, but always the same gesture. Just a nod.

You had anticipated today to be no different, spotting the prince earlier in the day. He had been sitting in the gardens with his beloved sister, Princess Helaena, as she cared for her collection of insects. Others would gossip of the princess’s peculiar curiosity, but you thought it endearing, almost divine, in how she cared for even the smallest of the Seven’s creatures. While you took station across the garden, Aemond gently passed back to his sister an arachnid one of the maesters had brought back from the citadel as a token to the princess. Once the creature was safely in Helaena’s palm, Aemond almost instantaneously caught your gaze.

The impromptu action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. As always, you offered the Prince a nod of your head and a smile as a sign of respect. And as always, Aemond returned the nod. But then the corners of his mouth twitched upward as well, eyes locked on yours. It was the first time you had seen Aemond truly smile.

Now that smile haunted your memory whilst sitting and attempting to read one of the new books your father recently purchased for you. It was some Braavosi epic that reached astounding popularity, yet now hardly held your attention. The poems bored you more than the Concise History of the Construction of Lemonwood. Taking the pendant of the Maiden between your fingers, you silently prayed to the Gods to rid these thoughts of the prince from your mind. Even as innocent as they were… you did not want temptation to come knocking at your door.

But the Gods speak in rhythm, or at least enjoy seeing mortals grovel, you thought as none other than Prince Aemond entered the library. He wore his usual dark tunic and trousers with a matching waistcoat and belt to cinch it all together. Even outside his training garbs, he reminded you firmly of the Warrior.

Prince Aemond offered you a curt nod upon his entrance to the library before making his way over to a previously organized stack of books. Most of them were about the histories of Old Valyria with the occasional book on law and reform. It seemed Aemond was consistently studying as if that were his duty to the realm. Though you acknowledged that it was part of what was expected of him.

Your focus finally returned back to your own novel when the Prince decided to claim your attention once more, “I have not seen that book in this library before.”

“Pardon me, my Prince?” You looked to him curiously, surprised at his observant eye.

“That book,” He gestured to your hand, “The binding is not only fresh but there is not a book in this library with a green cover and red stitching. That red stitching is not of Westeros either.”

You blinked a few times, absorbing this information, “You would be correct, my prince.”

“Then how did you come across such a book, my lady?”

Swallowing your nerves, you continued the light conversation with the Prince, “My Lord Father bought it for me from a Braavosi merchant.”

“Mmm… if I recall, it was the same day you took that tumble,” He raised his brow.

“Yes, my Prince.” The day I tumbled into your arms.

“And, if my memory serves correctly, you made a sentiment on how you’ve already read through the titles in this library.”

“Yes, my prince.” You agreed once more, “All titles that I was permitted to read.”

“Permitted,” The word lingered on his tongue as if it were a curse, “I see.”

Silence fell over the library. You assumed it to be the end of your conversation with the prince. Minutes passed and you returned to your pages, mulling over the same lines for what felt like eons. That was until the prince called your attention once more.

“Who gives you permission as to what books you read?” There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place, but it stirred something within you.

“That would be my Lord Father,” You answered softly, “my prince.”

Then footsteps thudded across the floor. Aemond moved swiftly from his desk to stand before you instead. From your seat, you gazed up at the tall lean prince. In your current position, he towered over you and a warm hue of orange outlined his head from behind - as if he was carved from the perfected chisel and marble in the hand of the Seven. With ease, he took the epic from your hand and replaced it with a slightly heavier book.

“At this time every day, I expect you to meet me in the library and read this to me,” Aemond instructed you.

Looking down, you took note of the title: Encounters of the Maiden and the Warrior.

“As you wish, my prince,” You nodded your head, “But I must ask my Lord Father for-”

“I am your prince,” Aemond interrupted, “Are direct orders from your prince not enough for you to do as you are told?”

You did not respond. Words were lost on you, and how could you correct him? He was right, in a sense… wasn’t he?

“Then the matter is settled,” He tilted his head, “Besides, your family mulls over religious texts quite often. This is simply a text to expand such education.”

Without another rise from yourself, you opened the book and began to read it to him. Aemond settled himself in a chair opposite of your own, fingers lightly tapping against the wood of the armrest. His expression gave away little of what he was thinking, so you simply continued.

The activity continued till the end of the moon. At first, you anticipated the meetings would only last till you finished reading the book aloud to him. But it shocked you one day when Aemond would instruct you to skip a few pages or even entire chapters. When you questioned him about this, he simply dismissed them as unnecessary to your divine education. He did not allow you to press the matter further.

One evening, you joined your mother in your parents’ apartments after a visit to the Sept with your mother. Together, you had participated in your weekly prayers to the Mother and Maiden, lighting a candle for each. When you both returned, you recounted the trip to your father who had been too tied to his duties to participate.

Dinner plans had been arranged for the families of Small Council members to have a private feast with the royal family. Typically, your family would pray in the godswood of the Keep before attending any supper, but tonight your parents thought it best to make an exception.

Your mother had just finished pinning your hair when a knock fell upon the chamber door. Looking at your father, he answered the guest’s knock.

There stood Prince Aemond, and his loyal King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole. It was rare for a royal to come calling at a door. Quickly, you all rose to your feet, paying respects to the prince before you. While your father and mother offered him a nod, you honored the prince with a curtsy.

“My Prince, why might we have the pleasure of your presence?” your Lord Father asked.

Aemond’s eye drifted over your form. He drank in the sight of you, prepared even if simply for a dinner with the King. His eye then adjusted back to looking your father in the eye.

“I have come to call upon the young Lady,” He stated simply, “I’d like to pray with her in the godswood before supper, under supervision, of course.” The prince gestured to Ser Cole who remained still.

Warmth filled your cheeks and chest at the thought of being alone with the prince. It wasn’t your first time, of course, but each private moment with him brought over a wave of new emotions.

Taking a moment to think, your father then nodded his head in agreement, “You have my permission.”

Ser Criston was notably trailing quite a few steps behind the prince and you as if he did not want to infringe upon the interaction. A part of your mind wondered if it was by order or out of the guard’s own consideration.

Aemond had led you from your parents’ apartments to just outside the garden wall. Your arm was carefully linked in his own, shoulders brushing against the other with each step. While you walked, you recounted your visit to the sept to the prince. He had not inquired, but you disdained any silence between you both and he did at least act amused. Amused as the prince would allow himself to be, at least.

“And who gifted you your pendant of the Maiden?” The prince asked.

“My grandmother, before she passed,” you explained to him, “It was hers. A gift from my grandfather upon their betrothal.”

“I see,” He nodded, falling quiet once more.

Before another word could be uttered, you arrived at the courtyard where the small godswood lay snug. Though you appreciated having a place to properly pray to the Seven nearby, your mind always trailed back to the godswood of your own ancestral home. It was considerably larger than this, or any of the Southern kingdoms. You never commented on the size though, not wanting to offend those who tended to it or sought comfort here.

As Aemond led you forward, Ser Criston remained in the archway at attention. His eyes focused on the halls, surveying for harm as expected of him.

Just as you approached the heart tree, Aemond stopped his moments, keeping you tucked into his side. Your eyes turned to his face, scanning his demeanor for a clue of what was in his mind.

Suddenly, he spoke once more, “My mother often comments on the fact that there is not a proper weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s godswood.”

After a pause, you offered him a response, “I believe I understand her sentiment.”

The prince turned toward you with a raised brow, dropping your arm in exchange for taking your hands in his own, “And what is that sentiment, my lady?’

Your eyes flicker over his face, the faintest hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. Tearing your gaze away from his face, you refocused down… down at his large hands which grasped your own. His cool, calloused hands nearly engulfed your own. Such thoughts sent a chill down your spine. The warm feeling returned, but you pushed away your acknowledgment of it.

Taking a deep breath, you looked to where a weirwood tree might take occupancy in this godswood, “I do not wish to speak in ill opinion of the crown, my prince.”

“I want to hear your thoughts,” His hands squeezed your own, albeit gently, “Speak them.”

With a sigh, you continued as instructed, “Very few Targaryens, much less Targaryen Kings have truly devoted themselves to the Seven. The show of faith is merely a guise to appease the High Septon and common folk. As I’m sure you are well aware, it was always said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. Being compared to Gods does not ignite one to take up faith in what one might perceive themself as an equal to. So King’s Landing and many southern kingdoms are sullied with sin.”

Silence hung in the air, but the prince did not weaken his grip upon you. Worry sank in your stomach, wondering if you had spoken too freely for the prince’s liking. His common smirk played at his lips once more, “An observant lady… a very smart girl.”

The small praise made your heart drum against your chest, You could sweat to the Gods that he could feel it in your pulse too as he ducked his head closer to your own.

“My smart girl has been paying attention to our lessons,” His breath was warm against your face. His eye flickered from your own to the pendant resting atop your chest, “Good…”

Slowly, Aemond released one of your hands and raised his own up toward your face. His fingers took hold of the pendant, thumb grazing over the engraving. Then, he brought the pendant closer to his face, the tension of the chain against your neck, causing you to lean closer to him. His eye now held your gaze in a moment of surprising intimacy. Aemond raised the pendant to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it, eye never once leaving your own.

When he released it, the pendant fell back upon your chest. You released the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Now that I’ve given you my blessing,” Aemond’s voice was warm, but still caused your skin to prickle, “Get on your knees and pray…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

548 notes · View notes

marciabrady · 2 years

Text

here are some sleeping beauty plot points/general details that i love and i would love to see more discussion around

the story team did such an incredible job with fleshing out aurora while still making her feel true to the mythos from which she was derived. in every novelization i've ever read that predates the disney film, she's only ever given one line of dialogue (something like: "what is that thing that spins so merrily?") before falling asleep. disney took that same princess and successfully expanded her into a living, breathing dynamic human who is filled with everything- ethos, pathos, everything, but is also authentic to her origins. they also did a genius job at creating a basis for why love is so revered in this tale. true love conquers all, we're told, and it's indeed what keeps aurora safe from maleficent for all these years, as it's the one thing the evil fairy can't understand. yet, the fact that the princess grew up surrounded by the love from the three fairies, which instills that care in her heart, along with the fact that she grows up in isolation, so connected to the universe around her and allowing her to be introspective enough to observe the animals about her and draw a connection to the human condition and that of the consistencies of nature is so...deep and profound and develops her and makes her an evergreen character that will always represent people, for as long as we're around, because aurora's struggle is one that speaks to everyone. she isn't just some "lovesick princess" but a character that's growing up and longs to be able to find her soul's mate and to express the love in her heart in a universe where she was socially excluded and deprived of others outside of her three guardians. as humans are tribal creatures, social inclusion is one of the main pillars of wellbeing. so to take aurora, who is already an innately romantic person, and to deprive her of that just gives all the more reason why the kiss of true love really would revive her. she isn't just some princess who grows to be fifteen or sixteen, pricks her finger, and then is awakened by a prince she never meets. she is someone who was raised in love, grows up and wants to become a woman and share that love and express it with someone else. when she finds it, it's suddenly stripped from her and she's induced into a magic slumber that's meant to symbolize her transformation from girl to woman. then, she's awakened by the same love she'd thought she lost and it's just...the structure of it is genius and incredible and they retain all of the qualities about her in the fairytale and storytelling devices but they develop it so much further and round her out so well but still maintain a reverence to her source material instead of condemning it or outright changing it and i just LOVE

i don't think enough people realized that, it wasn't until maleficent visited prince phillip in the dungeon and showed him the vision of aurora in slumber repose that he knew that aurora and briar rose were one in the same!!! like this is the moment it all clicked for him and it gave him the drive and determination to slay the dragon in her honor. he realized the woman he loved and the princess he had been betrothed to were both one and that's so important and it's just such a plot twist that, again, was so genius of the writers. it proves to us that he loves her enough to leave the kingdom for her and risk damning the princess he had been betrothed to to the curse she was under and he'd take her as she is, even if it were a peasant, but also that his love is so steadfast and true that he'd defeat a dragon for her. 10/10 and it sooo runs along the vein of the lyric "visions are seldom all they seem." this is a plot twist done RIGHT but with so much sophistication that it tends to fly under most everyone's radar because it isn't like loud

something i love about the original princess movies is how the female characters are forever in the forefront, and the fact that this film opens with the celebration of the birth of a female child is something that's so special! instead of having to think about how female children weren't celebrated in that time, or it was a disappointment she hadn't been a son, or something of the like, the fact that the spotlight is on their daughter and the opening of the film continues this matriarchy, where all in the land praise this female birth, before the fairies are introduced as their most "honored and exalted excellencies." we need to see more worlds like this instead of pixar films where there's like not a single main female character lol

THE FACT THAT PHILLIP WAS WILLING TO GIVE UP THE THRONE AND THE KINGDOM "for some nobody" and told his dad flat out to his face without hesitating makes me love him soooo much?? he loves aurora for who she is, not just because she was a princess to whom he had been betrothed to his entire life, and this proves how genuine his love is. it also paints how progressive and open-minded phillip was, seeming to be the first that would ever break the tradition of princes marrying princesses and opening up his country for a new type of culture and reign. love me a freak like that

one of the biggest facets to aurora's character, and something that further develops her relationship to phillip, is how differently she reacts to her guardians when told of the betrothal. where phillip already knows, and is aware of the king and queen and how his duty is to marry their princess daughter, aurora is just finding out that she has living parents for the first time and the future of a nation rests on her shoulders. she discovers she's to be married to a prince and must give up her true love forever. again, before i hear anything about "she just met this man for two minutes in the woods, why is she crying," this is a fairytale with magic that's meant to be archetypical. in the narrative of the film, and in the universe of this world, phillip is her true love- and this is confirmed when it is his kiss that awakens her from the curse. so to leave the one true love who was meant for you, when that's all you ever wanted in the isolation you were raised in, to accept your duty and responsibility over parents you didn't even know you had and to assume the obligations of a nation you aren't even prepared for...it's astounding. aurora does everything right, she even leaves love behind for the good of her people and puts everyone above her own personal desires, and yet people still criticize her and say she's dependent on a man and all she cares about is love. meanwhile, phillip never receives any hate, and he's literally willing to give up the throne and the kingdom and start a war between two countries for the girl "he just met in the woods for two minutes" but he's one of the most beloved princes...it really just makes me think about how misogynistic our society still is, without even realizing it. aurora literally couldn't have done anything better, by our modern standards, but people still condemn her just because? this is definitely a discussion piece i want to hear more about and, in general, i think it would behoof us all to understand why aurora has been so demeaned culturally as a character when her actions, in and of themselves, are exactly what we say we want and would appeal to modern sensibilities

this is a slight sidenote but i always was tickled by merryweather proclaiming, if she had it her way, maleficent would be turned into a "fat old hop-toad." i always felt like this was a nod to the original tale from which this movie was based on, where a magical frog tells the queen that her wish to be with child shall soon be granted and that it, just generally, was a very clever easter egg/allusion

in this film, they have enough action and movement to appease the more restless demographic/traditionally "masculine" crowd, but i love how the basis of maleficent's defeat lies still in the femininity of the three good fairies. it's these elderly women that save phillip from the dungeon and arm him, not just with weapons that will kill another being and are predicated upon violence, but with symbolic weapons that are laced with truth and virtue. i think it really reminds us all how transformative these values are and how, in arming ourselves with them, we'll alone be able to navigate the road to true love (whether that be familial, platonic, or romantic love) which will be "barred by many more dangers" and how it enables us to have a sense of autonomy where we'll be able to overcome anything that's thrown our way while still retaining the core of who we are

i wrote about this moment previously, but to piggyback off of what i wrote about phillip just above...i love how aurora is the most competent human in this world? much has been said about how the plot of sleeping beauty is essentially the fairy worlds dueling with one another and, in that, many of the mortals are somewhat...inept, to put it for lack of a better term. king stefan is unable to protect his daughter with the burning of the spinning wheels, even with all the power he harnesses within his kingdom, and the fairies are quick to see his folly. prince phillip would still be rotting in the prison had the fairies not interjected, and he would be burned to a crisp had they not sprung a final chant of magic upon his, already, enchanted sword. yet, maleficent has to hypnotize aurora for the princess to even succumb to her plan and, even then, aurora is temporarily able to snap out of the magic hypnosis she's put under. i don't think people realize how powerful that is? yes, i understand it's a minor moment, but the hesitation and the ability to counter magic while remaining totally unarmed is something that reminds me why aurora is our main character, despite what anyone else might say.

going along with what i said above, while many are quick to point out aurora's lack of screentime, the film begins with her birth, the plot is sprung forth with every character wondering what they could do to protect her, then when she pricks her finger upon the spinning wheel, she and the entire kingdom are put to sleep. it isn't until she wakes up, that the entire kingdom does, too. she holds the key to this entire universe in a persephone like way and i just love how important it is in the narrative of the film to wake her up. she isn't just this beautiful creature who's valuable because she's pretty, because if that was the case, her being a lovely figure posed to perfection in her slumbering mode would be enough...but the people of her universe value her so much more when she's alive and active and being her own person, that it ensues a fairy war, practically. she's also involved in every single plot, even if she isn't physically present. this is her movie and no one can take that away from her. but, just to restate, the fact that there's so much emphasis in aurora being alive and well is something that's so important

so, it's kind of a given at this point that every princess can sing, but i think the role that music plays in sleeping beauty is the most meaningful and well done? sleeping beauty makes much to do about its classical score and it skillfully combines realistic characters and storylines (like the fairies not knowing how to cook and clean, phillip being captured with no way out, the kings toasting to the impending nuptials of their offspring before getting into a quarrel centered around a misunderstanding) with the fantastical world of fantasy and opera. by giving aurora the gift of song, the narrative is creating a framework that explains her relationship to her singing voice in a way that's even more profound than that of ariel's connection with her singing. it explains why aurora sings more than she speaks and ties in perfectly with the thematic style of the operatic presence in sleeping beauty, which is that in the opera, instead of speaking about it, you sing.

OK but this scene of hubert's/his general plotline and character motivation that results from this is genuinely perhaps the best comedy disney's ever done? hubert is coming off of declaring war upon his best friend stefan, because he misunderstood stefan's caring for his own daughter as a snub against hubert's son. after challenging aurora's father to a duel, they quickly make up, before hubert hears phillip has arrived and rushes off to greet his son. there, the news is broken that phillip is actually in love with a peasant and that he plans to renounce the throne- which will actually cause a war- so that he can be with his beloved. hubert is convinced phillip is joking, especially as he happens to meet this mystery maiden on the date that aurora is set to come home- the most anticipated date for these past sixteen years in the kingdom- and his son is set to be a central figure in the celebration for the princess's homecoming! before he can reason with phillip, his son escapes, leaving hubert to be the one to break the news to stefan. heavy-hearted, as hubert tries to tell stefan, he keeps being interrupted by trumpets and the musical notes that are meant to accompany the princess in her debut to her country. then the fairies literally put hubert to sleep when he finally gets a chance to explain it to stefan and, when they're awoken from this fog like slumber, the first vision that greets hubert is that of his son and the princess??? the same son who said he had no interest in aurora, but was set to marry the peasant maiden. the whole thing concludes in a very charming "all's well that ends well" but i still think the whole "how am i ever going to tell stefan" dilemma, while continually being interrupted, and this king who declared war in 2 seconds flat and minced no words in being so short-tempered was suddenly at a loss for words and so hesitant and fumbling and nervous about this news his son sprung on him lol

one of the most haunting sequences in film is the one above. the three good fairies have endeared themselves to their mortal charge, even giving up their magic for her for sixteen years. their bond is so much deeper and meaningful than it would've been otherwise, as they probably would've blessed her at the christening and then only appeared in her life intermittently, at a distance. they clearly aren't close enough to humans to know too much about their customs, and their magic always gives them away as outsiders, which indicates they were always content to live in their own fairy-world. but then they give it all up for this baby, this child, and they change their entire world for her. she is their world, to the point where their sole purpose is protecting her, until that's all they can think about for close to two decades. they would do anything they could to make her happy, to give her a fighting chance at life. they're so protective over her- and the fact that they got this close to the finish line...only to leave her alone because they want to be respectful of giving her privacy as she's still reeling and processing from all the news they sprung about her at once. they were even discussing going to king stefan and attempting to convince him to let aurora out of the arranged marriage so that she could be with the boy in the woods. and this all leads to maleficent enchanting aurora to her demise. as the fairies place her in a bed for the last time, looking upon her in her princess form, all of the time they've spent with her runs through their mind. how this isn't their little briar rose anymore, but a princess who inhabits, not the woodcutter's cottage, but king stefan's castle. someone who will never be with them the way she once was ever again and who, presently, is dead for all they know. as they look upon their lost daughter, the faint chimes and musical notes of the celebration of her homecoming is heard in the distance. i could talk about this forever but it's just such a heartbreaking and sad but also eerie mood

in 2023, it's time king stefan gets his flowers. while, in the time period in which this film is set, it'd be totally realistic for a father to set his daughter up in an arranged marriage to further the prospects of his land, stefan displays an understanding that seems more contemporary than his counterpart, hubert. hubert doesn't think about prince phillip's feelings for a beat and concedes that the "children" are bound to fall in love with one another. meanwhile, stefan seems to display a much more well-rounded paternal instinct, even exemplifying a degree of care and concern for both aurora's emotional wellbeing and her consent. he urges hubert to calm down and remember that this might come as "quite a shock" to aurora and to not push all of these political arrangements upon his daughter before she's had a chance to react to them and digest them.

the duality of briar rose and princess aurora is so fascinating, but also the moments in which they overlap is more enchanting still. this is a fairytale that is meant to be archetypical, and aurora's enchanted slumber is meant to be symbolic for her transition from girlhood to womanhood. briar rose, the girl, is anxious about her future, the prospect of meeting her love and settling down and getting to the next stage of her life. she loves her guardians, but is frustrated at their inability to see and treat her as anything other than a child. she goes to sleep a scared, shy, unsure teenager and wakes up as a self-assured, mature, gracious woman- the princess aurora. she's a vision, descending the staircase on the arm of her beloved, and she paints quite the picture as she gracefully curtsies to her parents, the king and queen. yet, true to the girl from the cottage, briar rose takes over. unable to contain the love she feels, she bolts forward and rushes to embraced her lost parents. i love this because, for as calm as a character as aurora is, i've always been so mesmerized by the breathless excitement with which she speaks when she returns to the cottage. this is a girl that has more love inside her than she can contain and it renders her a beacon of light. her running into the arms of her parents, instead of resenting them for giving her up, putting her in an arranged marriage, or even pausing to question whether or not she should be so warm with these figureheads of state, is such a tender moment that i don't think i've ever heard anyone speak of.

i will never get tired of singing the praises of the three good fairies. this film placed three older, conventionally unattractive women at the forefront- without pushing forced hetero ships on any of them- and allowed them to be bad ass (ie saving phillip from the dungeon, providing him with the tools and guidance with which to defeat maleficent, coming up with all the plots and actions that propelled the plot forward), while reminding us that love and kindness is truly the most powerful force on earth and placing an emphasis on the strength and power of femininity. the entire transition, from them being business women in the kingdom essentially (this is more in modern jargon; them being the fairies who are invited to political organizations for their contributions and not knowing anything about things like cooking or cleaning or rearing a child) to learning how to raise a baby and the film ending with them beaming over the shining achievement of their assigned charge finally being safe and happy is...it's everything. how beautifully the film focuses on them and the relationship with their adopted daughter and how that's the driving goal in all of this is something that's been unable to ever be surpassed

#mine #marciabrady #sleeping beauty #disney #sleeping beauty 1959

730 notes · View notes