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i-did-not-mean-to · 5 months

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Pretty Lies

It's Gondolin OT3, so it's @jaz-the-bard :p

I am afraid that, by the nature of the prompt, this is not an entirely happy ficlet :s I hope you can forgive me <3

Characters: Idril x Tuor x Maeglin

Words: 1 840

Warnings: lies, well-meant and otherwise, mental pain, anguish, imminent doom

Idril knew that something was wrong.

She would never have told him as much, but Maeglin—Twilight son of her father’s sister—was much less mysterious than he might have thought.

Of course, he had not gotten to know his extended family, so he had no idea how much of his grandfather and his uncles were inscribed in his face, his gestures, and his movements.

She, on the other hand, remembered—she had been but a child, swaddled in her mother’s arms, but she recalled her father’s brothers perfectly—the heroic, often silly stories, the warmth of their love, and their roaring laughter—as well as she remembered Maeglin’s mother.

“Cousin,” she said now, trying hard to break through the armour of compounded grief and hardened resentment. “You know that you can talk to me, don’t you?”

A part of her wanted to reach out, yearning to cup that pallid cheek in a poor imitation of her mother’s grace and generosity. Still, she didn’t dare—too fierce was the fire burning in the other’s unfathomable eyes and the cruel twitch of his sensual lips he tried to dissimulate.

“I know,” he replied, but there was a hint of mockery—twisting like a knife in her heart—colouring his voice.

Idril flinched back as if feeling the sting of his rejection like a physical blow.

“There is nought that should preoccupy you, Princess.”

It took a moment until Idril could identify the sickly, sinking feeling in her chest—Maeglin was lying to her, and he was not even really trying to hide that fact. It seemed to her that a part of him wanted her to know.

Before her ire, tinged with an almost puerile feeling of betrayal, could overwhelm her and make her say things she would not be able to take back, she forced herself to remember that she was her father’s daughter and heir—she had to rise to the occasion with as much grace as she could muster even as her heart broke.

Breathing in and out slowly, she stared at the stranger who had his uncle’s smile and his grandfather’s frown, seeking a way to connect with him.

Had she suspected that he might react positively to such a confession, she would have offered him all her most precious memories as a token of goodwill and kinship—more yet, she would have laid that part of her heart that was duty and loyalty at his feet to soothe them, sore and weary as they were from running from she knew not what terrible threat.

“Please,” she breathed instead. “I see that you are suffering, share your burden with me,” she wanted to cry, but she was too afraid that her words would be met with scorn once more. “Something seems to be troubling you.”

“If you say so.” It was not a concession—it was a doleful accusation. She had heard these very words drip like poison and be flung like arrows from the lips of her ancestors, and she hated herself for finding echoes Finwë’s tired overindulgence, Fingolfin’s affectionate permissiveness, and her own father’s pained stoicism in her own demeanour.

As tears burned in her eyes, she reached deep into her soul to find her mother—warm and brave—but there were only the ashes of Turgon’s inconsolable silence where she sought to find Elenwë’s reassuring smile.

“Please, do not worry on my account,” Maeglin pleaded darkly.

“What are you not saying?” she thought, sadness overshadowing her dying wrath. His words tingled like a warning instead of settling like a blanket of comfort around her heaving shoulders.

“As you wish,” she said tonelessly, her voice cold, her face motionless. “Tuor is awaiting me—you know where to find us, should you change your mind.”

“Are you well, my love?” Tuor asked softly.

“Of course,” his love, his shining miracle, replied in a voice and inflexion that sounded so much like her father’s that he was dumbfounded for a moment—he had learned much about the enigmatic, enchanting creature he adored so deeply. Still, he was reminded every so often of how much his feeble, woefully mortal mind would never be able to grasp.

What secret grievances and momentous misgivings were pondered behind that smooth, fair brow even as she humoured him by making pleasant conversation about his diurnal duties and delights?

To this very day, she had refused to share many details about her time on the Ice and her mother’s death—she claimed that she wanted to protect him from the pervasive rot of grief that would gnaw on every happy moment they experienced—but Tuor was no longer sure that he fully believed that.

“How is Maeglin? Have you conversed with him?” he asked instead, probing at the open wound she probably thought he knew nought about.

Idril loved her cousin in ways Tuor could hardly even begin to grasp—all he knew was that the unfortunate orphan who had found refuge in Gondolin was of a rare and alluring beauty which complimented his beloved’s in the most maddening ways.

Everyone here was so incredibly enthralling—hewn of living stone and adorned by animated gems—that he was perpetually surprised that Idril and Maeglin seemed to bring out one another’s best assets without ever overshadowing the other.

It was a testament to his innate weakness that he yearned to see them together so much; indeed, catching them during a private meeting or tense conversation made his heart race and mind swim, but he relished those few precious, erratic heartbeats of hopeful delirium that threatened to tear his chest apart.

“I have,” she admitted. “He was cagey.”

“Isn’t he ever so?” Tuor replied with easy charm and bent down to press a kiss onto her smooth, flawless cheek. Thus, he nearly missed the flash of anger and pain passing through the bright summer sky of her gaze like an ominous storm cloud. “You suspect that he hides something of importance?”

“No,” she rejoined a little too quickly and too vehemently. “No, never you mind.”

The smile she plastered onto her bewitchingly gorgeous face was too static, Tuor thought as his stomach lurched miserably. The one he had seen laugh, dance, and argue passionately now resembled a forgotten statue of a long-lost heroine, and he loathed the fact that she had ruthlessly and unconditionally shut him out.

He did not doubt that something was weighing on her—a bleeding ache that made carmine roses bloom under her otherwise unblemished skin—and yet he had to accept that she would not share her doubts and fears with him until she deemed it absolutely necessary.

Maybe, she was still shielding and sheltering him, he mused, and maybe, she had just grown incapable of speaking words of dread and imminent doom for fear that her very speech would ultimately conjure up and breathe life into her starkest nightmares.

“He is well, I take it?” Tuor tried one last time, flinging his heart and soul against the impervious walls of Idril’s unyielding secrecy.

“Yes,” she smiled. “Yes, we both are quite well.”

Maeglin stared at the peaceful horizon, unfurling like a golden tapestry beyond the confines of his sanctuary and prison.

Even though there was not a single sign of looming danger in the sweet air yet, the landscape was already ablaze to him, set alight by the voracious flames of his guilt and apprehension.

Idril knew—he was certain of it—although he could not fathom how she could have seen into his head and heart and deciphered the feelings and thoughts even he could not always make sense of.

He replayed his conversation with her over and over in his mind, analysing every word, every movement, every feigned smile, but he could not pinpoint the moment he had given himself away.

Oftentimes, his cousin’s effect on him positively bordered on terrifying—for some reason he could not identify or remedy, she seemed to know more about him than he ever divulged.

It was, of course, common knowledge that Idril was exceptionally gifted and versed in the art of mental communication, but Maeglin had to presume that there was another underlying truth—probably quite simple and therefore deeply perplexing—that entirely escaped him.

“Hello, are you all right?”

He whirled around when the kind, gentle voice of Tuor resounded behind him like a breath of warm air, chasing away the cloying fumes of asphyxiating mist.

“I cannot help but feel that my dearest love is worried about you. Did you fight?”

Maeglin smiled sadly at that; it was true that he and Idril oftentimes did not see eye to eye on matters of the realm, and they had been known to argue passionately about their discord—he almost wished that his crime against blood and soul only went as far as urban design.

“No,” he replied affably. “She has much on her mind these days—motherhood makes her suspect unspoken dangers looming behind every corner.”

The words tasted like ash and bile on his tongue. This was more than a despicable lie; it was a conscious effort to achieve the most reprehensible misdirection.

As Tuor’s smile softened to the point of looking positively boyish, Maeglin knew that he had succeeded in building a rapport based on gender and feigned privilege—within their hearts, they were both aware that Idril was more clear-headed and circumspect than any other person in the city, yet they let the gnawing curse of petty insecurity lead them astray.

As a matter of fact, it was easier to simply claim that Idril was chasing phantoms than to accept that she might see and know more than either one of them could even perceive, let alone understand.

“You’d come to us if you were in need of help, wouldn’t you?” Tuor grinned; his eyes were shining with faith and support, and his conspiratorial grin was unwavering.

Breathing out audibly to alleviate the torturous pressure weighing on his chest, Maeglin nodded gravely.

“Come to dinner soon,” the other pressed on. “I am sure it would reassure her so much; we love you well, you know that, right?”

Again, Maeglin moved his head—heavy with words unspoken and tears unshed—and fled the premises before the valiant Man could dig deeper into the distinctive mist of misery billowing around one he had accepted as a kinsman and friend.

If only they had invited him to their marital bed rather than their familial dinner table, if only they had laid their hands on him to arouse rather than gentle, if only they had spoken of loving passion rather than affectionate indulgence, he might not have quailed and capitulated before the terrible, relentless, corrupting presence of their common enemy.

The truth—bleak and burning—was writ plain across the darkening horizon, and—as so often in his life—Maeglin wished he had been given more time to tell the frightening, humiliating truth before he was forced to swallow the bitter drafts concocted from his craven lies and unspoken desires.

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #November #Nanowrimo2023 #Gondolin OT3 #Idril #Maeglin #Tuor #Pretty Lies #anguish #lies and betrayal

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flamingpudding · 3 months

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I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.

Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.

Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.

Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.

Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!

Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.

Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.

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Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.

"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"

It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.

So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.

Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.

Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.

He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.

Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"

Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.

The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.

"Kla-"

"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."

Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."

Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.

"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"

"Look at these snacks."

"These accessories don't look to bad..."

His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"

The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.

"My mom is planning to visit me."

"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.

"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."

They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.

"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.

"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."

"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.

"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"

"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.

Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.

They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.

All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.

"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"

"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.

Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....

"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.

"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.

"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."

"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."

"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"

Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.

Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...

Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.

"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.

Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.

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