#rotten princess and rotting servant

[icelandsgirl]

I made a fairytale based on my life (the explanation is after the story)

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away, there lived a king and queen who lived in a magnificent palace with their two beautiful daughters. The princesses had their quirks, but they were kind, smart, and beloved by all. The eldest princess was the top of her class with many, many friends and took her duties as future queen very seriously. In her free time, however, the princess loved to be wild, to roam the mountainous countryside, to run through the meadows and fields of spring flowers and morning dew, to feel the cool breeze on her face as she twirled in the dirt. The king and queen loved her adventurous spirit and praised her for it constantly. That all ended much too soon. Over time, the princess fell ill, getting weaker every day. The king and queen took her to see many doctors, but none could figure out what went wrong. The princess kept feeling worse, and the king and queen were forced to use their last resort. They brought their beautiful daughter to see The Witch. The Witch told the king and queen that their daughter was very ill and would leave this Earth very soon. The queen begged for The Witch to save her daughter's life, and The Witch told her there was one more option. Black magick. The princess would have to give up something very dear to her to keep her life. The princess had to chose what to give up. She couldn't give up her intelligence or her kindness, so the princess gave up her beauty. The Witch used her magick to turn the princess into a hideous beast, but the princess was cured. When the princess tried to return to school, her classmates were scared of her. They ran and hid anytime she came near. Even her teachers thought she was a monster. The king and queen didn't want their daughter to scare the people, so they pulled her out of school and forced her to live in seclusion deep inside the palace walls. The queen forced her to stop going outside, leaving what was once the crown princess to lay in her lonely prison, rotting away. The king and queen couldn't have a monster as the queen of the kingdom, so they told her she wasn't going to be the queen. They couldn't have the younger daughter be the queen because the younger princess had grown cruel and enjoyed hurting others. The queen had another baby, a boy this time. He was to be the king. The king and queen loved him more than they ever loved their daughters. He was spoiled rotten. Meanwhile, the eldest princess had grown bitter and closed off. She stopped showing her emotions and started dabbling in black magick. Desperate to return her beauty and be loved by her parents once again, she used black magick to turn her beautiful again. The price to pay was her soul, sold to the dark Underworld. She was bound to go to Hell and serve Satan for all eternity. The princess was beautiful again, and she was still as clever and caring, but the king and queen didn't want her anymore. She mattered not to them, who had a new heir to the throne. She was hurt and felt betrayed. Then the war started. The war lasted a long time, and when the king went off to fight, he found a woman more beautiful than the queen with a son smarter and braver than the king's own son. The king annulled his marriage with the queen and made this new woman the queen. The eldest princess was no longer a princess, just a simple peasant, a peasant who practiced dark magick. No one liked her; she was an oddity. The girl was all alone. And then she met her. A young girl, a peasant, who understood. A girl who didn't think she was a witch or a demon or a servant. A girl who saw her as an equal, as a friend. And it didn't matter that the princess wasn't a princess anymore. It didn't matter that the queen would always be disappointed in her. It didn't matter that was weird or ugly or stupid. Because this girl was her friend. And that is all that really matters.

EXPLANATION:

Okay, I know, kinda confusing. Alright, so let me start from the beginning. I grew up in an upper-middle class family (we were really poor when I was really little but that's not important) (there was also this one time my uncle tried to rape and kill me but that's also not important) and I had a lot of friends, good grades, etc. I was a champion skier and I was on the track team. When I was around ten years old, I started feeling sick. I got worse and worse before I was diagnosed with two brain tumors. I had to have surgery to have them removed (it saved my life, thank the fucking Gods) but to do that they had to literally scalp me. (Don't worry, they put it back ;)) Because of this, the skin was on a little loose, and I had skin that sagged around my eyes. When I returned to school, my classmates, my teachers, and even my friends laughed at me, called me names, and pulled at their eyes, mocking me. My mom made me stop skiing and running. It fucking hurt. And I already had a prescription for codeine. I took a few too many here, way too many there, so on and so forth. I was pretty much a child narcotics addict. Not even pretty much. I was. The bullying got so bad that my parents pulled me out of school and homeschooled me. It was horrible. COVID hit and I was stuck in the house while my precious baby brother was born and my dad became a drunk, and my mom and dad started fighting and it escalated physically, and my dad molested me, and my mom beat me, and I wanted to die, and I was flying through my codeine prescriptions way too fast. They ran out, and I turned to undereating and overexercising. Eventually, my face went back to normal. I still look ugly, though. After my mom screamed at me over my skinniness, I turned to self-harming and oh boy, that sucks. It made me feel good though, kind of like the codeine did. What I wouldn't give for some of that right now. My need for some kind of addiction lead me to Hetalia, where I obsess over certain characters (mostly Iceland) because it distracts me from what is actually happening in real life. Eventually, my mom signed me up for dance lessons, in hopes I would be her pretty perfect ballerina. I hate it. No I don't. I like it, but I like skiing and running better. I'm expected to be perfect when I'm not. Eventually, my mom beat her own face in with a paint can (she lived) and blamed my dad, so he left the house and now he lives with his girlfriend and her son, while we struggle with money. I'm autistic, and no one likes me. That is, until I met this girl recently who is so nice to me and talks to me and doesn't think I'm a loser or a weirdo or anything like that. I love her more than she will ever know.

Thanks for letting me rant and reading this far. It means a lot <3

[magioftheseas]

A Meal With Chestnuts

written for @yuzuria​ because it’s her biiiiiirf

Summary: In which Hinata adopts a cat that's a whirlwind of fluff and trouble. His brother sometimes helps.

Rating: G

Warnings: Ehhhhh? There are some tribulations related to caring for a pet but that’s it.

Notes: Because I love Mewshi (cat!servant) I decided I’d whip up a quick fic with him and Hinata. Yep. Yeah. Look at this angel. Precious.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

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“I... Izuru... Hey...”

“Hajime.” His brother doesn’t miss a beat. “It is strange for you to call me out of the blue like this.”

“Y-Yeah. Um. I... I called because... I need, urgh, I-I need help.”

“Did something happen? Are you at the hospital?”

It doesn’t surprise him that’s the first conclusion Izuru jumps to. Honestly, if he were Izuru, knowing himself the way he does, that’s the first conclusion he’d jump to, too.

“I’m fine,” he says, almost snaps really. “But I...” He pinches his nose, swallows, and struggles. “I-I... I need money...”

“...”

“A-And I know!” he exclaimed. “I know I said I’d rather fucking die on the streets than borrow money from you when you offered—t-that was stupid...and immature... I’m sorry. I...”

“...”

“I... I...”

Can I really do this?

Just as he’s this close to hanging up, he glances over and ends up meeting the wide, gray-green eyes of a scraggly, tangled mess of fluff. Said fluff gives a weak chirp in acknowledgement.

How can I even ask myself that?

“I found a cat,” he said, sighing. “It’s in really, really bad shape. Like, its back legs are badly broken, one of its front paws is mangled, it has worms, and it... He smells awful, Izuru. And I don’t have enough to pay for the medical bills.”

“Understood.” The response was immediate. “Which vet?”

“Uh... The one on...” He rattles off the address. “So, uh, does this mean...?”

“I will be there right away.”

“Right away?”

“Right. Away.”

Just like that, Izuru hangs up. Hinata blinks at his phone before pocketing it. With a sigh, he reaches out to stroke the cat’s head, mindful of the plastic cone. He earns a purr for his troubles, and he can’t help but smile in spite of his grimace.

“You made me broke one of my oaths to never ask my successful, genius brother for help,” he said. “Fifteen years I kept that oath. And now it’s broken. Because of you.”

The cat nuzzled his hand.

“...I hope you’re happy. You’re really lucky, too. Izuru loves cats, and he barely loves anything. I’m still doubtful that he loves me, y’know.”

Another chirp.

“You’re...you’re in good hands. Definitely.”

--

Hinata Hajime was, putting it lightly, not the happiest he could be with his life.

Law school had been stressful enough, but actually trying to make it as a lawyer could be a nightmare with the weirdos he had to put up with and the cases he had to swallow his pride and do his damndest to defend when they actually made it to court. Even so, he wasn’t very successful.

Not like Izuru, never like Izuru.

Still, he had a stable life, if anything A good apartment, an alright car, a good neighborhood, a social life that sure existed even when he didn’t have the energy for it. He was doing well for himself. Not great, but well. Well, well, welly well, well.

Izuru called him boring for good reason.

He resented Izuru, of course, but he was hard-pressed to argue with him over anything. Izuru was right. Even Hinata’s own friends agree that he was the kind of guy who seriously needed to go out more. Relax more. Get laid.

Especially since his crush of seven years hadn’t picked up on any of Hinata’s painfully obvious hints. Better yet, said crush tended to fawn over his doctor. They weren’t in a relationship for that reason, but... But... Still. It was pretty damn hopeless.

Too fucking bad Hinata didn’t have the itch nor confidence to just find someone, anyone to put up with his boring, mundane, sometimes miserable ass in bed.

So Hinata was at a loss over what the hell he was supposed to do to find some level of actual contentment with his life. Or at least something if not someone to distract him from the void.

And then a flurry of wild, filthy white fluff rushed out in front of his car while he was driving and he almost wrecked then and there. Breaking the law, he ended up pulling over and investigating only to find out it was just some cat. Some cat that just chirped at him before returning to gnaw at the remains of some roadkill.

It looked like a possessed mop. Hinata took it home for the night. And then he went to the vet and called Izuru for help. Something he swore up and down for fifteen years that he would never, ever do.

Izuru didn’t hesitate at all. If anything, Izuru was immediately enamored with it. Hell, Izuru already ordered several cat toys and high-end cat food to be delivered to Hinata’s apartment around the time that the cat was expected to recover enough to go home with him.

He should feel pretty stupid right now, and he certainly felt awkward watching Izuru stare at the sleeping bundle of white.

“Does he have a name?”

“Uh... Huh?”

“A name. Did you name him?” Izuru frowned at him. “Were you planning on keeping him?”

“I...” He knows he should say no. That if anyone’s equipped to take in a cat, it’d be his crush. Komaeda already had a cat, he’d probably love another one and Izuru couldn’t have pets in his building, but... Hinata’s own apartment doesn’t have any pet policy. And it’s as alright a place as it is an empty one. And maybe, just maybe, he had fallen in love with the stupid thing overnight after making it a makeshift bed of towels, pillows, and blankets. “I wanted to, yeah.”

Izuru nods. “What’s his name?”

“His name, uh...”

And it just kind of comes naturally. The cat has long, white hair that’s fine and reminds Hinata of grain, and... Said cat had also pooped in his rice bag. Hinata still wasn’t sure how it got in there.

“Meshi,” he said, shrugging. “Is that an alright name?”

Izuru blinked at him, but glanced over at Meshi, still caught in a peaceful slumber.

“Meshi is a fine name,” he said. “After he gets cleaned up, I do predict that his fur will be as white as rice.”

“Yeah...?”

“Yes.”

Hinata could only nod along.

“Take good care of him, Hajime,” Izuru said sharply. “Or else I will not forgive you.”

“O-Of course I will!” he exclaimed, gawking. “I... I... Yeah, I will!”

He just hoped he was prepared for what he was getting into.

(He wasn’t. He had no idea.)

--

Meshi, as it turned out, was exceptionally fluffy, even more than Hinata already thought. In fact, Meshi likely doubled in volume entirely due to fluff.

Meshi had needed his front paw amputated but Izuru paid for a prosthetic. Of course he had.

Izuru also needed to leave for work but he had left several files on how to take care of Meshi and administer medication if need be. Izuru even set up an account with money for future medical bills. Just. In case.

And then Meshi bit Izuru when he tried to pet him. And Hinata hurriedly pulled him away. Meshi had chirped but nuzzled against him, and it was the first time Izuru had ever looked at him with such envy.

He...had felt a little satisfied. But only a little.

“I... Don’t worry, Izuru,” he said. “I promise, I’ll take good care of him.”

“Or else,” Izuru muttered. Hinata nodded again.

“...yeah. Or else.”

--

So...now he has a cat. And his apartment has gone from empty and clean to a mess of cat hair everywhere.

And there are child safety locks on his cabinets because otherwise Meshi would spill rice everywhere.

And the trashcan has to be facing the wall otherwise Meshi gets stuck in it. Meshi, Hinata learns, has a weird affinity for trash.

“Komaeda’s cat isn’t this high maintenance,” he grumbled while scrubbing Meshi’s fur clean for the umpteenth time today. “He’s lazy and always sleeping. Why do you have to be completely different, Meshi?”

Meshi meowed at him happily as he rinsed him off.

“A-And what kind of cat enjoys baths, anyway?!”

Another happy meow. And then Meshi gagged from trying to nibble at his soapy fingers. And then Meshi started to hack. Hinata panicked.

“Wait, no, don’t throw up!”

Hinata had to wash the tub as well that day.

--

Every ounce of his space is now Meshi’s space. Even when it’s late, rather than use the plush bed that Izuru bought, Meshi sleeps on his face and nearly suffocates him overnight.

He drags the cat bed onto his bed and tries to force Meshi to sleep there. It doesn’t work out.

He wakes up coughing up cat hair while Meshi innocently groomed himself.

“You,” he grumbles after washing out his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

Meshi chirps at him.

--

You would think that with one prosthetic and weakened hind legs that a cat like Meshi would have difficulty getting around.

Not so.

“Meshi! Meshi!”

Meshi kept on crying.

“How did you even get up there?!”

You would also think that with as much fluff that Meshi had, that it’d be difficult for Meshi to squeeze into all the weird places that cats liked to explore.

Also not so.

“Meshi? Meshi?!”

Hinata would’ve had a heart attack over his missing cat if not for noticing that the drawer was open. And, unsurprisingly, Meshi mewled at him when he peered inside.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

He ends up tying a bell around Meshi’s neck. It’s easier to keep track of him and... Maybe, just maybe, it suited him.

--

Meshi doesn’t play with cat toys. Meshi plays with his ties. And string. Meshi seems to really enjoy string.

“Luxuries are wasted on you,” Hinata grumbles. “Poor Izuru.”

Meshi attacks his antenna. He ends up with a shiner thanks to the prosthetic.

It’s very awkward trying to explain it to his coworkers and clients that no, he didn’t get into a fight, yes, it was just because of his new cat.

“Your cat seems to be quite the handful,” Kirigiri had murmured. “Be more careful, Hinata-kun.”

“R-Right...”

Meshi afterwards still had the gall to show him his fluffy belly and look like an angel while doing so.

Hinata knits him a mitten for his prosthetic. It takes a while because Meshi keeps gnawing at the yarn, but eventually Hinata manages.

“There we are.” He pulls back to inspect his handiwork and sticks his hand out to take Meshi’s newly knitted paw. “It’s not as soft nor as nice but... You’ll cause less damage like this.”

Meshi chirps almost cheerily and nuzzles him. In particular, the bruised side of his face. It irritates his injured eye. Hinata almost cries, but he valiantly holds back.

He forgives Meshi quickly even as the bruise lasts a while.

--

His life has gone from unbearably dull to dreadfully unpredictable, thanks to Meshi.

It also changed in several other significant ways. If Hinata laid on the ground, Meshi tended to trample him without missing a beat. Cooking was now a serious hazard with how curious Meshi could be in the kitchen, especially near the stove and with fluff like that—Hinata couldn’t cook until he was sure that Meshi was safely kept far, far away.

Because it’s a cat, I’m the one that has to be completely and utterly accommodating.

Sometimes he took Meshi outside and just...watched Meshi sniff around the grass and area. And afterwards, he’d have to give Meshi another bath due to Meshi rolling around in the dirt.

Because it’s a cat, it’s just going to do whatever it wants regardless about how I feel about it.

He always needed to keep a close eye on Meshi. Because, otherwise—

“Meshi, no! Out of the trash! Get out of the trash!”

Why am I willingly subjecting myself to this again?

The answer was obvious even without Meshi purring after being pulled out of the trash.

“I was already pretty busy,” he grumbled as he once more scrubbed Meshi clean. “You’re making this almost impossible.”

Meshi chirped.

“But...it’s not like you have anyone else, huh? I’m the one who took you in.” He rinses him off and wraps him up in towels to blow-dry his fur. “That makes you mine. Izuru probably could’ve found a way to make you his but—but you’re mine and that’s that.”

Meshi purrs against him as he brushes his fur afterwards.

“Mine,” Hinata murmurs. “You’re mine, Meshi.”

Meshi meows, and Hinata likes to think it’s a sound of agreement.

--

When Komaeda visits, bright-eyed and carrying a cat carrier, Hinata’s sure that his heart leapt up into his throat at the sight.

“I heard about your new cat!” Komaeda practically beams. “I brought Izumi with me for a cat playdate.”

There’s a low mreow from the carrier. Just a sound to acknowledge his name being said. Nothing else.

“Oh... Huh...”

He swallows as Komaeda brushes past. Komaeda sets down the carrier. And with the tinkling of a bell and the padding of feet, Meshi practically rushed up to him.

“Hi there,” Komaeda coos, reaching out to run his fingers through those long white strands. “Ooh, Kamukura-kun was right, you are a beauty. No wonder he was utterly enamored with you. Hinata-kun, you’ve been taking pictures and showing them to Kamukura-kun, right?”

“Uh, yeah, a few...” But whenever I bring out the camera while Meshi’s doing something cute, Meshi immediately stops doing the thing. “Are you sure it’s alright for you to be out and about, Komaeda?”

“Yep! Matsuda-kun even says I’ll be well enough to start working! Though he also says someone as rich as me doesn’t need to worry about that, haha...” He opens the carrier, humming. “Come out, Izumi. Come say hi! Oh.” Meshi rushed into the carrier, which Hinata more or less expected even as he worried. “H-Hey, Izumi won’t attack him right?” “Of course not! My Izumi would never...!” Komaeda stared helplessly at the fluffy tail flickering in the air sticking out of his carrier. “Meshi... Izumi can’t leave like this.” “Meshi doesn’t believe in personal space,” Hinata said. A pause. “Unless it’s with Izuru. So... I guess he’s warmed up to Izumi, at least.”

All the same, he swooped down and pulled Meshi out of the carrier. Drearily as ever, Izumi stepped out, sniffing as he did and elegant black tail flickering with those piercing red eyes.

It still weirds me out that Izumi is a lot like Izuru but... Come to think of it, Meshi looks a little like...

Meshi blinks those pretty gray-greens at him. Hinata flusters when Komaeda glances at him with eyes a similar shade and hurriedly looks away.

“Uh... Here you go, Meshi,” he mumbled awkwardly, setting Meshi back down so that he and Izumi could familiarize themselves with each other. Or at least so that Meshi could, seeing as Izumi just flopped onto the ground.

Yeah, that’s what I expected.

And Komaeda softly squealed, pulling out his phone to take pictures. Probably getting the most flattering ones, too.

“Kamukura-kun will love seeing these,” he hummed. “And Matsuda-kun will, too.”

Hinata deflated, nodding.

“I... Yeah... Anyway, can I get you anything to eat, Komaeda? I have some leftovers I can heat up if you want.”

“So kind, Hinata-kun!”

“Not...really. It’s just a courtesy.”

He still couldn’t meet Komaeda’s sparkling gaze directly and Meshi, at the very least, proved to be a very suitable distraction. Especially with Meshi crawling over Izumi like that, pawing at him curiously.

Cute... Shockingly cute...

With Komaeda bouncing after him, Hinata couldn’t help but wonder if he’d really be able to handle both of them at the same time in his tiny, tiny apartment.

God give me strength.

--

After they ate, Komaeda was almost as eager to look around as Meshi.

“Aha, there’s a lot of toys! Did Kamukura-kun buy these?”

“N-Not...all of them... But a lot of them...” Hinata rubs at the back of his neck. “That said, Meshi largely prefers the toy box to any of them. And sometimes he steals my ties regardless of what drawer I put them in. He’s...a weirdly intelligent cat when he wants to be.”

Even though I’ve had to keep him from literally dumpster diving more times than I had to count.

“I see, I see...” Komaeda claps. “Your apartment is still so clean, Hinata-kun, all the cat hair aside. You completely gave up on that, huh?”

“Sure did.” Hinata doesn’t even miss a beat. “Meshi gets around a lot. He’s the complete opposite of Izumi.”

Komaeda glanced towards Izumi, who still hadn’t moved from his spot, even though Meshi was kneading him. Chuckling lowly, he went over to scoop Izumi up and placed him atop the cat tower. Meshi immediately darted after him, squeezing right back into his space. Izumi didn’t seem to mind.

“I guess opposites attract,” Komaeda hummed. “That’s really nice. I’m glad. A lot of cats aren’t very sociable but Meshi seems really friendly!”

“...Yeah...”

I’m still on edge. Komaeda’s cat can be weird, but—at the very least he doesn’t look like he’ll snap at Meshi.

“Uh...” He shakes his head. “So how have things been? You’re getting better, right? That’s... That’s good...”

“All because of Matsuda-kun!” Komaeda chirped and then paused. “And Izumi, actually.”

Hinata blinked.

“I really appreciate Matsuda-kun,” Komaeda went on, blushing a bit. “But truth be told, it’s really Izumi who keeps me going. Matsuda-kun can’t always be there, of course not, he has other patients, so I used to be really lonely when he wasn’t around... Everyone’s always so busy, living their lives, I really envy them...being stuck at home by yourself and not really having anything to do, anywhere to go... It’s such a boring, empty life.”

Hinata frowned but couldn’t bring himself to comment.

“But after I got Izumi, that completely changed,” Komaeda said, lighting up. “Izumi isn’t the most energetic cat, obviously, but he’s still someone I have to watch over and take care of and... Honestly I’m never bored with him. He’s got his own little quirks that are fun to discover. For example, he does have bouts of curiosity with the strangest things. One time I accidentally left a coat hanger on the bed and he cried because of it. Another time he was absolutely fascinated with this documentary on boats so I bought him a rubber toy. After I set it in a small tub of water, he made such a mess! Haha!”

Hinata looks towards Izumi, unaffected by everything including Meshi draped over him like a big fluffy blanket.

That’s...really hard to imagine.

“...it’s the same for you, isn’t it, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata flinched at that.

“A-Ah, huh...?”

He flustered more at Komaeda’s widening smile.

“It’s the same for you, right?” he asked cheerily. “Having a cat around—it really livens up the place, doesn’t it? I was pretty worried actually about getting a pet. After my dog died, I didn’t think I would ever be ready for it, but... I’m really glad I picked Izumi up. He was so listless at the shelter and even though he’s still pretty lazy, he’s has moments of such brightness!”

“I...” Komaeda looks pretty bright, too. “I see...”

Suddenly Meshi hopped up to them, pawing at Komaeda’s side. He headbutted him, and Komaeda could only laugh, patting his lap. Meshi pounced before curling up as Komaeda stroked his fur. And then Izumi, too, lazily walked up and pressed up against Komaeda’s knee.

...I want to take a picture, but...

“You are right,” Hinata said, reaching out and pulling Izumi towards him. It still mildly unsettled him how Izumi reminded him of Izuru, but all the same Hinata petted him, and a smile pulled at his lips as Izumi pressed back against his hand. “They really do liven things up.”

And then Meshi leapt out of Komaeda’s lap and barreled into Hinata’s stomach so hard that he nearly choked.

“H-Hck...!”

“H-Hinata-kun?!”

Hinata quickly recovered, taking in deep breaths as Meshi whined at him.

“I-I... I... Huh...” He blinked at Meshi and then scooped him up, cradling him. “You’re possessive, too, huh?”

Maybe...we’re made for each other or something...

Komaeda still looked rather worried but after a while he snorted and picked up an ever-stoic Izumi.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” he remarked. “You’re actually really handsome, Hinata-kun.”

“H-Huh...?!”

Meshi smacked his face after he snapped up to regain his attention. At the very least the mitten did in fact keep the prosthetic from hurting.

Komaeda just laughs.

“It looks like you’re trapped,” he said. “Well, there are worse ways. Like with rubble!”

“I... Uh...” Hinata averted his gaze, nuzzling Meshi to keep him happy. “Yeah... Yeah...”

Komaeda’s laughter was carefree and calm. Even though, his heartbeat stuttered over it, but...

Meshi whapped him again and kept him in line.

In a weird way, he kind of appreciated that.

“It probably would be nice for Meshi to spend more time with Izumi since they seem comfortable with each other.” If Izumi even cares. Hard to tell. “I can’t always play with Meshi, so it’d be nice if he had someone else...y’know?”

“I do,” Komaeda agrees. “Cats usually rely solely on us for stimulation and they can get lonely while we’re busy. So it’s better to have friends, I think. So maybe you can visit sometime and bring Meshi?”

“I-I...” Another whap. He got right back on track. “Y-Yeah! Yeah... That... That’d be nice...”

“It’s a date theeeen!” Komaeda sing songs and claps with Izumi’s paws. “Yay, yay! Izumi, isn’t that wonderful?”

Izumi just yawned. Hinata snorted as Meshi meowed.

“I think they’ll be fine,” he said. “Thanks, Komaeda, for visiting.”

“Ehehehe! It’s nothing, it’s nothing! I’m glad I did!”

Maybe...just being like this...won’t be so bad.

Yeah. He was almost sure of it.

--

It didn’t surprise him that despite cuddling up against him all that time, Meshi kept his distance at bedtime, grooming himself as Hinata could only lie down and watch.

“You know,” he found himself saying. “I’ve liked Komaeda...for a really long time. Long enough that I honestly should’ve give up by now, but...”

He shrugs.

“I still...like him a lot...”

Meshi didn’t say anything. Of course not. He was too focused on licking his paw.

“I think even if he never understands, I’ll be fine,” he murmured. “Seeing him again... I’m just happy that he can smile like that. And according to him...”

I smile like that, too. That’s really embarrassing to think. Why? Just because of Meshi who causes so much trouble and yet...

Meshi crawls over to him and curls around him. Just when Hinata perked up, Meshi starts trying to groom him. And he can only sigh.

I’m going to have to shower in the morning. As usual.

“It’s hard to dwell in self-loathing when I have you to keep an eye on.”

Meshi is definitely frustrating...but it’s hard to resent him for that. If anything, I might just be grateful, black eyes and scratches aside.

“...Izuru loves cats,” he said, humming and turning towards Meshi’s fluff. “I guess... I can sorta understand why.”

Meshi bit his ear afterwards. It really hurt.

But it didn’t really change anything.

--

It didn’t change anything. He certainly wouldn’t regret taking Meshi in for the world. But. But.

“H-How did this happen?! Did Komaeda’s cat impregnate him?!”

“Hajime, that’s impossible.”

Hinata still screamed into his hands, meanwhile, Izuru observed more closely. As close as Meshi would allow anyway, with Meshi hissing if he so much approached within a certain number of centimeters. Izuru respected that, but he still blinked down at the small ball of tea green fluff nestled into Meshi’s fur.

“Tea...” Izuru mused. “Monaka would be a cute name for her, don’t you think?”

“I still don’t understand,” Hinata rambled on. “I just, I just left Meshi alone for two minutes outside and he darts inside the house with this...this...!”

“Kitten,” Izuru finished for him. “You now have a new kitten. Congratulations. She’s very, very cute.”

“She’s a demon, actually,” Hinata retorted, pointing to the scratch marks all over his face. “She’s only cute right now because she’s sleeping. But the second she saw me, she attacked my face. Meshi had to pull her off.”

Izuru frowned.

“I think you just startled her.”

“I was as careful as could be...!”

Suddenly, the kitten stirred awake. Yelping, Hinata quickly hid behind his brother but all she did was crawl up to Izuru and mew at him, blinking wide green eyes at him.

Hinata’s useless brother melted in a heartbeat, picking the kitten up and doting on her, listening to her purr.

“She’s an angel, Hajime, you must have been mistaken.” Izuru gave him a pointed look as she batted at his hair. “Or, as I said, you startled her. It was likely your pointy antenna.”

“Hey leave my hair out of this!” Hinata exclaimed heatedly. “Meshi doesn’t mind my hair!”

“Well Monaka is clearly different,” Izuru huffed.

“Where did that name even come from?!”

Izuru ignored him, humming softly as he stoked Monaka’s neck. Hinata groaned, rolling his eyes, but there wasn’t exactly much he could say.

Izuru only paused when Meshi bit his ankle, puffing up angrily at him. Blinking, Izuru reluctantly set Monaka down so that Meshi could drag her away.

“...you really are lucky, Hajime,” Izuru sighed, looking at him enviously once more. Somehow, the novelty had worn off.

He looked at Monaka. Monaka looked back and hissed.

“...I think...it all balances out,” Hinata said, sighing. “I wonder how Komaeda’s going to react...”

“I want pictures,” Izuru said.

“...don’t worry; he’ll definitely take pictures.”

It’s alright being like this...is what I thought.

Monaka doesn’t seem terribly content with Meshi fussing over her. Somehow, Hinata just knew she’d find a way to cause enough trouble to give his Meshi a run for his money.

Things are about to get wild. That’s just the feeling I’m getting right now.

He might have to ask Izuru to come over more often. They might just be closer in the future than they ever were for fifteen years.

Man.

That’s a thought.

[evieswritingjournal]

Writer’s Month day 30 - tree

This is written in the POV of an actual tree that used to exist in the grounds of Hatfield House, in Hertfordshire, England.

I’ve had to guestimate the date of the tree’s ‘birth’, which I have written as around the time of the Norman Conquest as an oak tree’s full lifespan can be over 1000 years. After that I have mentioned The Anarchy, the building of Hatfield Palace, the Black Death, Princess Elizabeth's (later Queen Elizabeth I) imprisonment at the palace, the English Civil War, visits by King George III and Queen Victoria and Albert, and the tree’s death somewhere between 1882 and 1978.

Who knew that just one tree would have seen such history!

My birth was unremarkable, just another young shoot of green in a land in turmoil. How could I compare to the invasion of a country, foreigners claiming my land as their own, their beasts eating my young leaves? 

I was still a child when strife once again roamed across the land, the fight between two cousins setting sibling against sibling for the seat of rule. Hooves trampled the seeds of what could have been my children, men on horseback hunting their enemies: families torn from their homes who I sheltered under my branches. I was proud to offer them protection, I was big and strong back then, even as a child; we oaks grow fast but sturdy and it meant nothing to give cover for the fragile humans whose lives flitted out in a few score years. 

Everything quickly went quiet again and I was left to bury my roots deep into the earth in peace. 

A dwelling was built nearby, a palace at the edge of the village I had watched grow from a few scattered houses to a prosperous settlement, travellers regularly passing by me on their way to market. Not even the sickness that had spread its fatal fingers into rich home and poor home alike had managed to stop it grow. But the travellers soon stopped, the palace claiming my ground as its own, leaving me lonely of human companionship, no matter how brief.

But for three winters I befriended a young woman who was imprisoned in the palace. I had watched her and her sister and brother in the gardens when they were children but now she regularly walked to sit under my branches and read a book. I was as far as she could go, she told me. I hoped she would be allowed to roam one day, to walk among grass in places that I would never see. I kept the harsh sun and cold rain off her as she ate, rustled my leaves when she cried and dropped acorns and leaves in the autumn for her to catch with delight.

That final winter, as I let my last leaf go as I settled down for my sleep, a messenger came to her as she sat resting against my trunk. He was slightly dishevelled, hair a mess but he had obviously tried to smooth down his clothes that had been rumpled from a long ride. He bowed to her deeply, deeper than the usual palace servants, then told her that she was Queen. When I was just a seedling I could never have thought that I would have sheltered a Queen under my branches!

The decades passed. The palace was torn down and another built in its place. Civil war once again split families and caused death. I grew taller and stronger, but then age started to take its toll. My branches became gnarled and knotted, I no longer bore leaves on all my limbs. Bits of me decayed and fell. The humans at the palace built a fence around me, protecting my ageing body, starting to rot from the inside out.

I was visited twice by royalty, the first in passing, the second by a couple who were gifted one of my small branches and an acorn. There was not much of me left by then, but people still came to the tree that had sheltered a young princess made queen. I was glad my friend had been remembered through the centuries.

There is one disadvantage of being so long lived. I lived long enough to see the machines that the humans had invented change the land they lived in. From wooden houses they had built stone and clay factories, horses discarded in favour of metal monstrosities that sped along belching out soot and dirt. Gone was the pure air of my youth, now everything tasted of fire and death, my few final leaves coated in a layer of grime.

My death was just unremarkable as my birth. I faded away, more rotten than living, until one day I was no more.

One more tree lost in the grey world that once was green.

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was AZAZEL, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. She is said to be IMMORTAL and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as THE MOON. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

Once the inculpable ingénue of God’s holy servants, the angel Azazel fell from Heaven shortly after Lucifer, pulled down by some impossible enchantment as the underworld’s dusky circles danced below her. In Heaven, she had attracted the tender affection of her kind without ever needing to ask for it, and in Hell she was no different, drawing a new cohort of creatures around her like a shield. Azazel certainly draws the eye in the company of monsters and beasts, her gentle eyes and the faintly silver glow of her body marking her out, but the animals of the night find themselves mysterious fond of her. Even the worst beasts treat her with a sort of unsolvable gentleness—whether this is a mysterious gift from her creator or merely her nature, not even Azazel knows. She fulfils the role of Keeper of Hellhounds, monstrous animals which linger at her side obediently, and since the neutralisation of the Heretics she has also served as the Moon of the Holy Land, an honour bestowed upon her by the de facto leader of the Demons and her doting pseudo-brother, the Antichrist. She is the object of great desire and curiosity, though she keeps the world at arm’s length; nobody quite knows what hides behind her dove-like exterior. At the point of her fall, Azazel had her white feathers singed from her back, and these cauterised wings now stem from between her shoulders in the shape of mulberry smoke.

THE HISTORY.

How she came to be, Azazel barely recalls. Pulled from a cloud, some long-dead star, the shine of the moon which drank up the sun’s brilliance, or perhaps all three at once—it barely mattered. Only that she did. Where her counterparts were forged with purpose, Azazel seemed to have come into existence entirely by accident, betraying no real aptitude for anything in particular. Instead, she glowed. She glowed with a secrecy all those around her failed to unlock; not even herself, not even God. The Creator doted on her, heralding her as one of many of His great treasures, her sweet beauty and gentle demeanour transformed into His shining glory—He would have her do no more than merely sit there, ethereal. She would work for nothing. Azazel, after all, had not been crafted for labour; she had been made in the image of idolatry. The Angels called her the Dove of God, arranging their bodies around her like a divine shield. Perhaps that was why she slipped from their minds as easily as she did, left to uncover the shadowy corners of Heaven, if indeed there were any, alone. Though the light clung to Azazel, it bored her. Light cast itself on everything, and she was interested in the things the eye couldn’t see. She felt like your hands might go straight through her: it was a want from which she couldn’t right herself, a desire that spat itself out from her, following the scent of rot and decay and offal. So, when Hell worked to lure her, it didn’t have to exert itself much. Azazel worshipped its poisonous flowers, its rotting walls, the night. It didn’t need to teach her how to understand the darkness—she always had.

As she leapt from Heaven and draped Hell over her shoulders like a dark shawl, Azazel seemed to both change beyond recognition and remain precisely as she had always been. That was the magic of her. Curious and feeding herself on the shadows, she sank into Hell and felt its cleansing properties wash over her, like dipping into a moonless river. Azazel meandered down this murky nook and the next, slipping into some dark hole and emerging with its wicked secrets, and still the appearance of innocence stuck to her skin. It hardly mattered; Hell suited her. The darkness had sensed something in her up on her ephemeral cloud, called seductively out to her, and she had answered it. That was all. When Judas offered his hand in invitation as she looked down into Hell’s mouth, his mouth curling in recognition, she took it willingly. Azazel went further than he could ever have possibly imagined: she made ancient friends of the shadows, she had her feathery wings cauterised from her back, and all that remained of the heavenly creature she had once been was the ghost of her wings stirring behind her. The Demons yielded themselves to her, offering their wicked guidance—but she never needed it. As she planted her feet firmly in Hell’s soil and watched the twilight grow around them, Azazel purred like a primordial animal, called back to its feeding ground. After all, old things have old hungers, and who could point her to a thing older than the dark?

Azazel befriended all the monsters of the night: a coterie of beasts and hounds who, growling disbelievingly and baring their fangs at her glow, prowled around her before burying themselves obediently at her side. It was an odd sight to behold: this elegant, angelic-looking thing, surrounded by a sea of phantoms and ghouls. Nevertheless, they devotedly swore themselves in as her godless protectors, always anxious to return to her side and linger there. What could have caused it Azazel couldn’t possibly say: it couldn’t be that they felt she needed their chainmail, because when she stared into the beasts’ eyes, and when she watched them blink back at her, she knew they saw the horror in her. Azazel knew they detected the enormous malice she was capable of untying. It made her feel strangely understood. She became something of a marvel in Hell’s noxious halls: some desired her, some despised her, some couldn’t fathom ever coming to understand her—but, in the end, all fell at her feet. With the Antichrist by her side, who had seized something in her and sculpted her into the rotten sister he’d never had the pleasure of having, she made Hell her hearthstone: they misbehaved, wild as animals, and Azazel remained as elegant as she had always been. She leaned into Judas’ paternal-like wisdoms, who was, of course, king in all but name—and what did that make her? An heiress set to inherit his gospel. Hell’s own princess. Cherry-sweet and, in her centuries of existence, never denied anything, the darkness grew from her.

Pulled toward a land poised between the new and the old, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Azazel took to the earth as easily as she did. Was she not the perfect parity between divinity and devils? In Heaven she had been half-starved, and in Hell she gorged herself on slices of the darkness, but the mortal world offered her something new to wrap her hands around. Greedy, she hoped to slip into a crepuscule throne of her own and, grown increasingly petulant over the invisible crown that had settled itself upon the Antichrist’s brow, he had granted her one—indulgent as ever. As she climbed to accept the role of the Moon, promising to represent her kind’s own interests in Sanctus Terra, Azazel’s beasts languished at her feet, her desire sated. If truth be told, she kept little interest in the politics of it all, but she delighted in the many eyes that fell upon her. As the Angels watched on, they supposed she looked little changed by her fall, while the Demons leered up at their wicked princess, knowing her for precisely what she was. Humankind seemed to see her through the crystals of a kaleidoscope: twisting left and right, up and down, seeming soft and dulcet where she was selfish and lotus-eating. They call her Sprite of Darkness as she passes, the Cherub of Hell, and Azazel luxuriates in their strange deference. At her fingers rests all she could possibly want: to have her curiosity sated, to pluck admirers from the crowds, to be blindly worshipped. Yet, she has always looked for more to chew on.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ABADDON, JUDAS & DAMIEN WARD: Dynasty. They’re like family, in a strange, twisted sort of way. They’re a family that has at once nothing and everything to do with each other: they share no blood except the stuff that they steep their hands in—they’re not kin, but still there is a kinship shared between them. There is no such thing as royalty amongst Demons—not now, but all of Infernum bows to them nonetheless. In Abaddon, Azazel finds a hesitant sort of mother, bound to Azazel by something more profound than mere history. She finds herself caught in the child’s web far more often than she cares to be. From Judas, Azazel collects his barrages of wisdom and adoration, gorging herself on slivers of his guidance and affectionate love. To her, he yields a part of himself that few are fortunate enough to witness. Though Azazel doesn’t share his interest in politics, nor his desire to crush the earth in his jaw, she certainly shares his appetite to hold the world in their palms. Damien, however, holds an unparalleled place in her heart; she loves him wickedly. He is a playmate, a co-conspirator, a confidant. He indulges her as much as he criticises her, and though they fight like monsters and argue like beasts, there is perhaps no-one she loves in the world more than her pseudo-brother. The four of them are an utterly indivisible unit—in Azazel’s mind, nothing can rend them apart.

CASSIEL: Rival. They are two creatures that God had carved from exactly the same things: beauty, enchantment, divine thrall. Perhaps it was only natural that they would each see the other as an enemy. Heaven had been filled with the sonorous ring of Cassiel’s heavenly laughter when Azazel had first ebbed down into Hell, for she was a creature who could only revel in the elimination of her most galling adversary. And yet, look how the mighty hath fallen. Not, of course, as Azazel had, slipping into the mouth of Hell, but crushed indifferently beneath the oppressive rule of those who easily eclipsed her. Azazel peers down from her bone-carved throne and can only virulently laugh at the way Cassiel is forced to scrap for a morsel of devotion, all while her many worshippers run their bare feet raw, setting off on pilgrimage, all to fall beneath her. She has always received precisely what she wants without ever having to first think of it, and when she feels the cold iron of Cassiel’s green gaze upon her, Azazel smiles something wicked. Let her dream of knocking the head from her shoulders, of her Hellhounds loosening from her bewitchment and turning their bloodied mouths back on her. Dreams haven’t served the invidious Cassiel for some time now.

JASPER RICHE: Intrigue. Because she has never had to ask for what she wants, Azazel has forgotten how to. He had never been particularly interesting to her in the beginning; his eyes were the same ravenous eyes lodged in the skulls of those who drank her in, and he was, after all, only mortal—but in withholding his reverence, when she can plainly see it delineated on his face, Jasper has drawn her interest. He mocks the way the people fall at her feet, as if she is the altar and they are its worshippers, and thus he has resolved to bridle his fascination—that, after all, would make it exactly the same as all the others. Jasper is mysterious in a way that she has found, in her many centuries of existence, mortals are never mysterious; though he cleverly compels her to tussle for his attention, Azazel finds herself drawn to him by something more than mere rebuffal. There’s something darker that lingers beneath, something powerful and ancient—at times, catching his gaze is like returning to the beginning of the ages. She wonders if that means something.

ORIAS: Companion. When she had first fallen into Hell, Orias had uniquely drawn her interest. Once, they had been nothing more than flesh and bone, but now they sat on a gut-carved throne above them all—almost all of them, at least. So used to being the object of affection, they are perhaps the only person that Azazel doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight with; they are, after all, hewn from the same cloth. In Hell, they kept her attention by plucking creations as beautiful as they were awful from mid-air, and on earth they surround the both of them with a gauzy veil, purging the things Azazel refuses to look at. In turn, she is utterly indulgent; she shows Orias true and genuine tenderness, and when the skies wheel into grey, they each find comfort in the other. They are her most intimate friend, her secret-keeper, her musketeer—for them, Azazel would ruin cities and whole worlds. What remains to be seen, however, is whether she’d be willing to crush her own kingdom. That is the ultimate test of their companionship.

Azazel is portrayed by Ravyanshi Mehta and was written by CAS. She is currently TAKEN by OPEN.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 33:  Someday Soon

It was no wonder he'd never suspected anything like "The Dark Curse" would take him to Baelfire, information on the damn thing was nearly impossible to find! It took him two years to find a single reference to anything called "The Dark Curse", and even then, it was only a sentence in an introduction to a book on Dark Magic, something that suggested such a thing was a myth and legend. Still, it was something, and considering the fact he'd been about to lose hope and assume that Donna had simply written down some phrase she'd heard while she'd searched without actually finding evidence of such a thing, it was enough to reinvigorate him.

A "myth" the author claimed…then he would look among the myths. For a year, he waded through them, through book after book, library after library, sometimes breaking into houses and stealing books they had, absorbing every bit of information he could when he found it and even then, what he found was still not much.

The Dark Curse, it had been first penned on a scroll that was made of magical parchment. It was a difficult piece of magic, requiring lots of power, but it was also, at its heart, a simple spell. He learned that the cost to enact it would be great, nearly impossible for some individuals. But, if the Curse was done correctly, if everything was sorted and the price was paid, and the ingredients were right, then the Curse had the ability to rip through this or any land, taking everyone and their most precious items to another world, one that was the complete opposite of this one, a realm where magic didn't exist.

It took him a little over three years to put that much together. Three years to come up with a name, a description, a warning…now all he needed was to find the damn thing! He couldn't just put one of his own together, not without getting a magical scroll and as far as he knew those were exclusive to the Fairies hideaway and he knew for a fact there would be no getting in there now. As much as he hated to admit it, the Blue Fairy was a smart little insect, she'd have found the insecurities Donna and Stephen had exploited and made efforts to be certain it could never happen again by now. And as for going there himself, well, he'd tried once, just before sending he dolls to do it for him…the experience hadn't ended well. That only meant that he had to find the original.

The myths he read only left one hint for him. It wasn't with the fairies. Not anymore. They may have had some kind of record of it, which had enabled Donna to find it, but they didn't have it at their Garden, not anymore. The Dark Curse was just that-a Curse of Dark Magic, and creatures who claimed they only practiced blessings of Light Magic wouldn't be able to physically endure having it close to them. It would rot them from the inside out. Pleasant as that image was in his head, even better was the knowledge that they hadn't destroyed it. The magical parchment used to write it upon was sacred to fairies; once the Curse was bound to it there would be no way they could destroy it unless it involved enacting the Curse. Only by casting the Curse would the parchment be weak enough to be torn in two and then reversed.

And so that deduction left him with two solid leads. One, the Curse still existed. Two, it was somewhere in this world. But where?! Obviously, it was guarded. The Wretch knew he was looking for it and had been for over a hundred years, she may not be willing to risk keeping it inside the Gardens, but he doubted she was going to simply bury it in a treasure chest where just anyone would find it. It would have a spell, maybe even several enchantments, that would protect it. But every time he searched for a location where good magic was in excess, it was never what he was looking for. There was something else to this, something else to this puzzle he wasn't mastering. He had to get his hands on The Curse soon, so he could learn it and manipulate it, understand it, and plan for it. He had to do this all so he could get it into the hands of Regina when the time was right!

At eight years old the spell over her home had yet to be broken, but eight was still far too young, even if he was beginning to notice some signs of the girl having abilities, she wasn't aware of them yet. Much to her mother's displeasure, she was far more interested in horses than she was learning about balls and manners and government. But sometimes, when he watched the family together, he could see the seeds of unhappiness growing deeper than just ordinary family quarrels. It seemed that Regina had inherited her mother's ability to do magic when she was angry, ironically enough, that usually only happened around Cora. Henry, he was loathed to admit it, was a doting father. He spoiled the girl, but not to the point she was rotten. Around him, she was sweet and happy, the second her mother took over, every time he saw her scream at the pair of them or insist Regina did something or other, he could see that spark in her eyes that told him someday she would be far more than she was. Someday he'd use that to help her and use it to get his revenge on Cora, without a doubt.

And one day, as he peered into his cauldron and watched a scene play out that he'd already seen in his head, the remembered he'd use another doomed relationship to get what he wanted from her.

There she lay, just as he'd once seen her in a vision, Queen Eva.

He'd been watching all day as maids and mistresses, doctors and doulas, ladies-in-waiting, and midwives had fluttered in and out of her bedroom. It had been an usually cold and bitter Winter. Their Kingdom had a record snowfall. And as the Queen's water had broken, another storm had swept over the Kingdom. The birth had not been easy for the first-time mother, it hadn't been easy for him to watch from his cauldron too if he was entirely honest. He couldn't hear anything, but he'd become quite skilled at knowing what things sounded like in a room just by the reactions of those around the individuals. Truth be told, without magic in the King's home, he could have watched through a mirror which would have allowed him to hear it, but he didn't feel he needed that. If he was reading the situation correctly, every time Eva cried, it was more a scream. He didn't need noise like that in his head.

The servants who held hands and legs were nearly as covered in sweat as she was. Even times of rest had the poor Queen laid back on her pillows crying and shaking her head as her body trembled. But eventually, the faces of worry exploded into joyful smiles. A small flailing bundle was laid on the chest of the Queen before she was cleaned, then she was taken away, swaddled, and placed properly in her mother's arms.

He'd watched content from his tower cauldron as people had come and gone, coming to see mother and child, including her husband Leopold, all before the rather large servant finally ushered them out of the room and left Eva there with the child in her arms for a moment of peace and quiet. It was then that he allowed himself to look in on her through a mirror, to hear the words he knew would be said because of the vision he'd seen when he'd first met Cora.

"There must be three feet of snow out there, your Highness!" the servant by the window stated with a happy smile. "An oddity this time of the year, to be sure, but not this year it seems. Still, now that the little Princess has come, it's stopped. There is nothing but beautiful pristine white, but it all pales in comparison to her. It's as though the gods knew that there was no competition for a more glorious sight."

"Then, we must name her after it!" Eva cooed, looking down at her sleeping daughter with a happy smile. "Mustn't we, my little Princess, my little Snow White."

Someday was coming soon.

[ren-c-leyn]

A Zombie’s Justice

Another short for @thependragonwritersguild ‘s unconventional challenge. This one uses prompts 4834, 4839, 4846, 4855,  4857, 4866, 4875, 4877, 4884, and 4912 .

 It’s another spin on what the life of an immortal might be like. This one is set in a prison, has swearing, talks about executions, has deaths in it, mentions beatings but doesn’t describe them, and has some corruption in it.

  He was the worst criminal we ever held in this prison. And three weeks after his execution, he started running it. We called him the 171st zombie, because he was prisoner #171 and, frankly, wouldn’t fucking die. We hung him, electrocuted him, drowned him, shot him, poisoned him, stabbed him, and even tried smothering him with a damn pillow. The muffled giggles from beneath it still give me nightmares late at night. In the end, his sentence was changed to life in prison.

 He wasn’t the least bit upset about it. In fact, the man was thrilled. Strutted about the place, whistling that gods awful tune. Sometimes he’d start muttering to himself. I remember overhearing a few of his mumblings, but one in particular had sent chills down my spine.

  “Tsk, tsk, why is it that the talentless always run the show?” 

  Other inmates started turning up dead, and it didn’t take a genius to know who it was. Don’t know how he kept getting out of his cell, but he did it. All of the leaders of criminal packs were gone, and he stepped into their shoes. Most of the other guards stepped aside, but the warden and I refused to back down.

 He’d flash me his mad grin from time to time, but never gave me a reason to act. That was his way, pushing to the edge, but never stepping over the line. He was waiting for us to do something. What that something ended up being, I’ll never forget, nor will I ever forgive.

 The warden had me arrested under false charges and put into the prison. I was not given a choice, I was not given an explanation, I was just stripped of everything I had and tossed in like common scum. My time in the prison was, in short, a living hell. The prisoners were more than happy to unleash their fury, beatings and running for my life became the new normal. My fellow guards happy to sneer and push around the fallen one. No one lifted a finger to stop it, no one but the 171st zombie.

 I was running from another rabid pack on my third week when the zombie’s main clique appeared and formed a wall between me and my tormentors. I stopped and stared before thinking better of it and looking forward, only to be faced with that mad grin. He winked at me before making his way to the front of the wall.

 “I think it’s time you rabid dogs go back to the den from where you came before someone takes it upon themselves to put you down.”

 The effect was instant. They were all gone. Just as quickly as they had gotten onto my scent, they had vanished back into the bowls of the prison from where they came. The zombie returned to me, a smile on his face.

 “Tired of close shaves yet?”

 “Why did you do that? What do you want from me?”

 He rose his eyebrow, smile vanishing.

 “Nothing at all.”

 “Don’t play games with me, zombie, we both know you don’t do anything without some sort of gain.”

 “No gain to be made here, you are useless as far as my small ambitions are concerned. After all, misery is a disease. You don’t get rid of it by passing it onto others. The world is a dark and cruel place, if you let it be, and I’m not interested in letting it be cruel much longer.”

 And with that, he started to walk away. I followed him, pissed off beyond belief. How dare he say something so profound after what he’s done. How dare he say that he wasn’t going to let the world be cruel after he had done so much to make it that way. How fucking dare he.

 “So what, are you trying to tell me you’re going to be some fucking hero?”

 “No, I’m just another monster. However, I happen to be a monster with a conscience, unlike your masters.”

 “How can you say that after you’ve burned an entire fucking city to the ground and killed the queen of Juniper?”

 He stopped and faced me, that mad smile pulling at his lips.

 “The thought really hasn’t crossed your mind, has it?”

 “What thought?”

 “That you’ve been deceived.”

 “What the fuck are you talking about, zombie?”

 “You what’s better than keeping your own secrets? Exposing the secrets of others. That’s why they wanted to kill me, you know, because I knew. The trouble is, I can’t die, as you’ve seen firsthand. No one will believe the words of criminals, but they’d believe you,” he said before leaning forward, nose almost touching my own, “so here’s what happened.”

 He wove a complex tale of trusts and betrayals, of one event spiraling into another. He talked about how he had been a spy for this kingdom for longer than he could remember, talked about the current king’s orders, and how the princess had him set up to take the fall for the murder her fiance committed. Then, they burned the city with him still inside, hoping he’d be among the body count.

 “I would have died, of course, but I can’t die,” he told me, before continuing on with his attempt to tell the king and his eventual arrest. 

 Then, at the end of the history, he spoke of his plans for the future. I wasn’t sure if I really believed any of it, or if I thought it was all shit. One thing I did know, however, was if the story was true, there was more at stake than just my head. So, I agreed to join in on his madness.

 “Few men know what to do with fury, but you seem to be one of them,” he said before smiling. “We’ll be out of here and on the castle’s doorstep in less than a month. You’ll see.”

 And I did see. Two weeks after I had successfully infiltrated the zombie’s pack, I watched him rally the prisoners. It should have been the bloodiest riot I had ever seen, every single one of the prisoners taking on the guards at once, but not a single guard was harmed. It seems as though the zombie promised certain death to the men who killed my former coworkers. After seeing what he had put together in so short of a time, I couldn’t say I blamed them for fearing him. I was terrified.

 He led the way up level after level, showing me the secret magics he had worked to get to his victims before. How useless our iron bars were against one who had the ability to warp their shapes on a whim. Through them we ran until we reached the warden’s office. He sat in his seat, a stony expression on his face as he stared at me.

 “What is the meaning of this?”

 The zombie stepped up before I could answer.

 “You are being relieved of your post, effective immediately. You have proven that you’re not part of the problem or the solution. You’re just part of a rotten world gone to hell. Actually, that’s not quite right. You are a part of a problem, just not my primary concern.”

 The warden slapped down his papers on his desk.

 “And what problem might that be?”

 “You’re lack of security measures against magic. I could have rotted in here for the rest of eternity if you had even one magic resistant gate.”

 The warden and I stayed silent as the zombie rattled about proper mage proofing and runes and such. At the end of it, I found his story more credible. Magic was a lost art, one reserved only for those who served the royal families directly. Though, that didn’t mean he was a servant of our allies. I didn’t get much time to dwell on it before the zombie drug me on our way to the castle.

 He was mad, insane, crazed, a complete lunatic. Only someone with no mind left would enter through the front gates, and we did. We just walked right passed the guards and into the castle like we belonged. My mind was screaming every profanity I had ever learned as I counted the parade of knights and soldiers that was steadily growing behind us. We were dead men. Well, I was a dead man, he was always going to be undead.

 I had already said my prayers to whatever Gods took the prayers of fools by the time we entered the throne room. All of the parties he mentioned in his tale were gathered: the King, the Princess, and her fiance the Prince of some kingdom over the seas that I couldn’t recall the name of.

 “Your Majesty,” the zombie said before bowing low.

 “I knew you were not dead, but pray tell why I have been told you were.”

 The zombie told the king the same story he told me. The king looked to me at the end of the tale.

 “And what role do you have in this matter?”

 I told him what little I knew, from the execution orders to my being thrown in prison to figure out how he kept getting out and find a good reason to lock him where the sun would even forget his face.

 “Arrest them,” the King ordered at the end of my story.

 I felt my heart stop and time slow, that is, until I saw the guards and the zombie approaching the princess and her lover.

 “You monster! You ruined everything!” she screeched at the zombie. 

 He flashed her that same mad smile.

 “You only carved out your own piece of this ruined world so you could inflict pain and forget your own, but you forgot something important, your highness. No amount of power will make you happy. You’ll always want more, and it will never love you back.”

[puppetwritings]

It Isn’t Love || Seungcheol || Pt. 3

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 (Final)

Word Count: 3475

Genre: fluff, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Summary: In order to solidify and further prove the alliance of two kingdoms, the Choi Kingdom had decided to arrange a marriage between their kingdom and the Lee Kingdom. It was a great plan! Now, if only the two parties personally involved were willing…

Seungcheol adjusted his shirt and fixed his hair a little before stepping forward. The maids bowed and announced his presence before opening the door for him. He stepped through nervously, his heart pounding against his chest but all of that melted away when he saw his mother, smiling at him from where she sat on her bed.

“Seungcheol, you’re home,��� she cooed, holding her arms out for him.

Seungcheol glanced back at the servants, his cheeks a little pink, as they began to close the door. He smiled more comfortably and walked over, taking a seat beside his mother as she wrapped him in her arms. She stroked his back like he was a child waking up from a nightmare and sighed against him.

“Was it tough?”

Seungcheol chuckled. “No, mom, I’m used to it.”

His mother pulled away, holding him at arm’s length. “Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“It was just a small cut,” Seungcheol shrugged.

“Where?”

He held up his right hand reluctantly and his mother sighed. She took his hand, carefully running her fingers over the scarring wound. Seungcheol looked at her guiltily. He slowly pulled his hand away, curling his fingers together to cover the scar and letting it rest against his lap. He smiled at her softly when she looked up at him with red eyes. She turned away momentarily and sniffled.

“Sorry, I just,” she shook her head, turning back to look at Seungcheol again. She reached up again and pushed the tears away once more before placing her hand against Seungcheol’s cheek. He could feel the tears she had just wiped away linger against her fingers as she carefully brushed a thumb over his cheek. “If only you were born to Queen Consort Kyunghee…someone with noble blood. Then—“

“Then I would be spoiled rotten with no common sense like the rest of them,” Seungcheol said, resting his hand over his mother’s. “Trust me, mom, I prefer this life over whatever Jinho and his three maniac brothers are living.”

“It’s unfair,” she said, her voice quivering as new tears began to fall. Another hand rose to hold Seungcheol’s face. “You’re talented. You’re so, so smart and so hardworking yet…your father doesn’t see that. He…he only sees you as…”

“I don’t care what he sees me as,” Seungcheol pulled away from her for a moment and stood, returning with tissues. “What I care about is you, mom. I’m happy, living like this. You realize that right? I’m alive, I’m eating well—“

“But you’re always at war,” his mother took several tissues and dabbed at her cheeks. “Wh-what if one day you—“

“I’m a skilled general,” Seungcheol assured her. “I’m not gonna die that easily.”

She looked at him tearfully and then nodded, sniffling as if to steel herself. “Of course not,” she lifted a hand, petting his head, “You’re strong. You’ve made it this far without your mother’s help.”

Seungcheol smiled, nodding childishly. “And I’ll be fine in the future too. So you,” he lifted a hand, carefully brushing aside her tears, “can stop crying.”

His mother sniffled, nodding firmly. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Seungcheol said, handing his mother more tissues. He looked at her guiltily and sighed.

“Let’s move away from this topic, okay? Um,” she thought for a moment and lightened. “I heard the Lee Kingdom came yesterday?”

“They did,” Seungcheol nodded, leaning back to reach for the trashcan.

“They were here for a marriage arrangement?”

Seungcheol swept the tissues into the trashcan with a nod. “They were.”

She looked at him curiously, “How did that go?”

“I, uh,” Seungcheol thought about lying to her for a moment but knew better than to do it. When she figured out the truth, that her son had lied to her about his own marriage, she would be devastated. “Depends on who you ask.”

“And…if I asked you?”

Seungcheol glanced up at his mom before bending backwards again to set the trashcan further away. He cleared his throat, unable to meet her eyes. “They…they decided that…that I…”

His mother looked at him gently, placing a hand over his and coaxing him to look up. Her gentle voice sent a sharp pang through his heart as she asked, “Do you want to?”

He pursed his lips and then grinned. “Yeah! Of course I want to. Why…why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I’ve never heard you even mention a girl before much less wanting to start a family.”

“I’m just tired of going out to war,” Seungcheol lied. “If I get married, I don’t think I’d have to go out again.”

His mother’s face lit up, “Really?”

Seungcheol nodded. “It would be a shame if a marriage alliance ended up with the princess being widowed.”

His mother chuckled and looked at him fondly. “I’m glad that you’re willing to settle down. I had thought you would never find someone to marry since you’re always out on the battle field.”

“Even without this marriage arrangement, I would have gotten married eventually,” Seungcheol said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

His mother smiled and began to pet his head again, “Okay, I understand…how long will you be here?”

Seungcheol’s smile faded and he pursed his lips. “I was originally going to stay for the rest of the week but we got an urgent letter telling us we have to go back. I had originally planned to visit the Lee Kingdom during that time so I’ll be going there and I’ll come back here after. It’ll be about…half a year.”

“Half a year?”

“The war is almost over. It’ll be fine,” Seungcheol assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. “I have you to take care of and…a fiancée now.”

His mother smiled, carefully stroking Seungcheol’s hair. “Return safely. Don’t forget to send me letters.”

Seungcheol nodded. He stood and bowed. “Take care, mother. I’ll be back soon.”

The chilly fall weather shifted until it started to verge on blistering heat. It was nearly May now and the people in the streets had changed into lighter clothing. The skies were clear almost all the time and there were pesky mosquitoes in every household. Dead bodies rotted faster and smelled worse. A war camp was a terrible place to be at this time.

Jihoon wasn’t at a war camp though. Instead, he was watching as the maids were setting up for the ball.

The annual ball, an event that was looked forward to by any member of nobility and the regular civilians. The ball brought a place for nobility and royalties to mingle and have a fun night while it created a week long celebration leading up to the ball—a type of fair—for the civilians. They weren’t allowed to go into the palace for the ball, but they were still able to participate in the festivities. Even now, the people of the town were beginning to put up decorations and creating floats.

Jihoon had received two letters early that morning. One was from you, his sister, and the other was from your fiancé, Seungcheol (during the past six months, Jihoon was the only one he had apparently been in constant contact with). You wrote in your letter that the day had finally come—you were coming home some time that week. Jihoon had been buzzing with excitement but he decided not to tell anyone else yet lest plans change. Seungcheol’s letter notified Jihoon that he will be visiting and will most likely be making his way over by the time the letter reaches him. The rest of his letter contained a lengthy complaint about the war.

Jihoon had reported this immediately and a chamber was being cleaned to accommodate the Second Prince of the Choi Kingdom.

“Should this go here?” a maid asked, stopping in front of Jihoon and drawing him from his thoughts.

He smiled and nodded, “Yes…wait, no, put those over that way and those can go directly across.”

The maid curtsied and left to do as she was told.

Jihoon smiled contently as he looked over the brightly decorated hall.

The double doors opened, causing Jihoon and several others to turn to look. A young servant boy came in, strolling towards Jihoon. He bowed and then spoke. “Your Highness, Prince Seungcheol has arrived.”

“Already?” Jihoon asked, eyes wide. The boy nodded. “Send him in.”

The boy left and a moment later, Seungcheol came in with two men at his side (Jihoon recognized them as his guard and his aide-de-camp). He walked over with a large smile and held out his hand. Jihoon took it and pulled him into a hug before pulling away and looking at him.

“You look better than I expected,” Jihoon joked.

“Oh, please, I cleaned up just for you,” Seungcheol replied.

“He really did,” Wonwoo, the guard, murmured.

Jisoo suppressed a chortle as Seungcheol turned to glare at his guard.

“I didn’t expect you so soon though,” Jihoon said. “I just received your letter and I doubt preparations are ready.”

“We meant to send it out some time last week but it got lost among the reports and papers,” Seungcheol said apologetically.

“It’s no matter,” Jihoon grinned. He gestured around the ball room, “You’re just in time for the ball.”

“The ball?” Jihoon began walking, guiding Seungcheol with him as Jisoo and Wonwoo followed several paces back.

Jihoon nodded, “It’s an annual event we host. There is a festival for a week and at the end of the week is the ball. The festival is really for the people but we fund most of it.”

“That’s nice,” Seungcheol said, admiring the decorations as they passed. “There’s a lot of thought put into this.”

Jihoon smiled, “Thank you. I take pride in helping my mother.”

Seungcheol looked around in awe, “It’s nice.”

“This year’s ball is a masquerade,” Jihoon continued. “My mother loves masquerades. That’s how she met my father, actually.”

Seungcheol chuckled, “That is actually very sweet.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, “They’re always talking about it. Speaking of them, have you gone to greet them yet?”

“I tried but the servants told me they weren’t at home,” Seungcheol said, a questioning tilt to his voice.

“They must have gone out then. I’m sure they’ll be back in the evening or tomorrow,” Jihoon said. “Have you eaten?”

“I haven’t,” Seungcheol admitted.”

Jihoon waved a maid over and told her to bring food up to his study, then he turned to Seungcheol and led him and Wonwoo and Jisoo upstairs. Once they were there, Jisoo and Wonwoo stepped off to a corner and sat down. Jihoon guided Seungcheol over to his desk and Seungcheol being thumbing through his files and reading material with great interest, asking him what certain things were and what it was about.

The door to the study opened and Jihoon had been expecting one of the maids. Instead, Seokmin and Chan stepped in, both holding trays of food. They set them down, Jisoo and Wonwoo looking at them curiously, and walked briskly over to where Jihoon and Seungcheol stood. Seungcheol turned around to look at the two young boys who looked at him in awe. Jihoon straightened and cleared his throat.

“Seungcheol, these are my younger brothers, Seokmin and Chan. Say hi to the Second Prince.”

The two young princes bowed and stood back up.

“You’re going to be marrying Y/N?” Chan asked before he could stop himself. Seokmin nudged him.

Seungcheol chuckled before nodding. “Supposedly. If your sister likes me.”

“What if you don’t like her?” Seokmin asked boldly. Jihoon stood behind Seungcheol, gesturing for them to stop.

“If I don’t like her…” Seungcheol thought for a moment and smiled. “I’ll learn to.”

“You don’t get the option of rejecting?” Chan asked, frowning a bit. He found this unfair.

“We proposed the marriage,” Seungcheol said, restacking the papers he had been leafing through. “It’d be wrong of me to reject.”

“But you didn’t even agree to it,” Seokmin pointed out.

Chan shook his head, “I’ve never understood arranged marriages. Our kingdom doesn’t use that useless stuff.”

“Chan,” Jihoon scolded.

Chan pouted a little but muttered an apology.

“I agree,” Seungcheol’s fingers lingered against the paper for a moment, his expression turning dark. “Our kingdom has a lot of useless stuff that’s done…a lot of laws…hierarchies.”

Jisoo and Wonwoo pretended not to hear but they knew what Seungcheol meant. Those useless rules and hierarchies had already caused him a lot of pain.

The prince shrugged, released a sigh, and then looked up, “But that’s my kingdom. Yours is a lot freer. I like it better here.”

Chan lit up, “If you like it better here, you can come visit whenever you want!”

“Yeah, I’m sure mom and dad won’t mind,” Seokmin pitched in. “Especially after you become our brother-in-law—“

“Shouldn’t you kids be studying?” Jihoon scolded.

Chan and Seokmin looked at each other and then to Seungcheol with pleading eyes.

“They’re probably just taking a break,” Seungcheol said, smiling at them before turning back to Jihoon. “A short break is fine, isn’t it?”

Chan and Seokmin looked curiously towards Jihoon.

Jihoon sighed, “If you really become their brother-in-law I’m afraid they’ll run to you for help from now on.”

The two young princes grinned and then pulled Seungcheol over to the table to eat. Jisoo and Wonwoo finally reached for the food themselves and quietly ate.

“Who are these two?” Chan asked. “They stood when we came in.”

“Wonwoo is my personal bodyguard. Jisoo is my aide-de-camp,” Seungcheol said.

“Why do you need a bodyguard?” Seokmin asked, looking at Wonwoo curiously. “You can fight well, can’t you?”

“In the times of an assault, there will be more people because I can fight well,” Seungcheol explained patiently, “That’s why Wonwoo is by my side.”

Wonwoo hadn’t spoken up to defend for himself. He quietly ate. Though Jisoo chuckled a little. He knew that Wonwoo was a little bothered by the question.

“They don’t talk much do they?”

“They’re technically my servants. They don’t dare speak in front of other higher-ups,” Seungcheol said, though he felt a little uncomfortable speaking about his only friends in such a way.

“They can relax here,” Seokmin said. “Our servants are basically our family.”

“If only people at our kingdom thought like that,” Wonwoo mumbled.

“Your Highness, I think you’d fit in quite well over here,” Jisoo said, a playful smile on his face.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at them, “Just keep eating.”

After the meal was finished, Jihoon began to walk Seungcheol to his room. Seokmin and Chan insisted on coming with them and Jihoon warned them about bothering Seungcheol while he was trying to rest. They nodded and swore that they wouldn’t bother him. They kept their word during the duration of his stay.

Once Seungcheol had been taken to his chambers, Jihoon showed Wonwoo and Jisoo to theirs, which were only a few doors away.

That evening, the king and queen arrived back home and Seungcheol was humbly invited to join them for dinner. He took Jihoon’s usual spot beside his parents and Jihoon sat beside him. Seokmin and Chan sat directly across.

“You guys sit close,” Seungcheol awkwardly noted.

“Do you not?” Queen Siyoon asked curiously.

“Um,” Seungcheol looked at his food awkwardly, “I’m not sure. I don’t think they do. I’m usually not at home…when I am I’m eating with my mother in her chambers.”

King Byungchul looked up from his food. “Do you and your family not have a good relationship?”

Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably. “Well…I wouldn’t say…”

“Sweetie, you’re making him uncomfortable,” Queen Siyoon said, putting a hand on her husband’s arm. She turned to Seungcheol. “It’s okay; you don’t have to answer him. He has no tact.”

Seungcheol smiled politely and Jihoon rolled his eyes. This was how his parents were like.

Dinner passed by pleasantly after that and it seemed that the Lees had taken a liking to Seungcheol. He was well-spoken, polite, and humorous. He showed more of his diplomatic side but, as King Byungchul said, they hoped that he would open up to him more later. Seungcheol went back to his room feeling oddly at home. Maybe that was only because of the hospitality of the Lees.

A few days into his stay (as Seungcheol had agreed to stay for the ball), he decided to take a walk around. He borrowed some clothes customary of the Lee Kingdom and he ventured out with Wonwoo and Jisoo beside him. The princes had offered to give him a tour but they had all been busy with one activity or other so Seungcheol had said it was okay; he wanted to wander around aimlessly.

And that’s what he did.

The streets were decorated with the bright colors of the rainbow. Long silk, multicolored ribbons were tied from one building diagonally to another and another piece was tied above it, creating a zig-zag pattern across the entirety of the street. The only places not decorated like this were the intersections where they couldn’t quite get it right.

Lanterns hung at store windows and other decorations with words that spoke of well-wishes. People dressed nicer than they normally would, wearing more festive colors rather than bleak colors. The homeless had enough money in their bowls to last them months at a time and everyone was generally in high spirits. It was strange to Seungcheol. He had never seen so many people so happy at one time. He figured it was part of their culture and their lax laws that provided so much happiness with their people. With rulers like the Lees, it was hard to have any discomfort about anything.

It was then, as Seungcheol roamed and admired the decorations and the people, that he heard an argument. He turned, Jisoo and Wonwoo looking in the same direction with him. Over there, near four street intersection, was a meaty man towering over what looked like a young boy. The meaty man was holding something high and the young boy was attempting to grab it angrily.

Seungcheol moved forward curiously as the crowd began to move towards the oncoming fight.

“That’s my master’s!” the young boy said angrily, trying to snatch it from the air.

The meaty man cackled, “Your master’s? You’re saying this jade pendent is your master’s?”

“Yes! She gave it to me to hold and you bumped into me so I dropped it on the ground!” the young boy grunted, nearly falling forward as he swiped at the pendent again but the meaty man moved aside.

“Hah! This pendent is mine! It was passed down to me by my father who got it from his father,” the meaty man said, his nose sticking up in the air presumptuously.

The young boy was boiling with rage. He looked like he was about to lunge at the man when a paper fan gently tapped his chest, stopping him from moving forward. Seungcheol’s eyes widened with interest as an elegant woman stepped forward.

“Is that his master?” Jisoo murmured, voicing the question that was in Seungcheol’s mind.

“That’s mine,” she said smoothly.

“It isn’t. It’s mine,” the meaty man argued.

At this point the crowd was beginning to murmur anxiously, unsure of what they should do. Should they call the constables? Should they help? But who’s side were they going to take?

“You’re trying to steal something that’s more than the price of your head,” she said firmly. She held out her hand, “Give it here.”

The man hesitated, obviously intimidated but then scoffed. “You’re lying! This is my jade pendent and—argh!”

It had been fast and Seungcheol wasn’t even sure if he had seen it properly but the man was lying on the ground, clutching his hand and the jade pendent was in the girl’s hand. She turned, pushing her fan closed and glared at the man.

“That fan is a weapon,” Wonwoo whispered to Seungcheol, confirming what he saw. She had just slashed that man’s wrist.

“If you have something to report, go to the constables,” She said firmly, opening her fan again to give herself a gentle breeze. “I’m sure they’d love to hear your lie.” She turned to her servant, “Come on, Jihu.”

Jihu, the little servant boy, grinned widely and nodded, following after her happily after tossing his head at the beaten man.

Seungcheol watched as she walked away, a scoff leaving him reluctantly. Wonwoo and Jisoo looked at him curiously. “Nothing it’s just…I’ve never seen a girl like that before.”

“You should get used to it, Your Highness,” Jisoo said. “I’m sure the princess is one-hundred times worse.”

“Or better,” Wonwoo added on. “Depending on how you like it.”

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes still on her figure until she was too far into the crowd to see. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[wasabi-duck]

prince jungkook

okay everyone i have requests piling on up but good old clinical mental health problems™ are kind of yikes

but royalty au is my FAVORITE you have no idea like it's my fave au besides ouran but like au ohdaibljarh i love it

jungkook is leo lmao jk

so this kingdom is going to be a total rip off of nohr because i love my emo son leo and his dumb retainers

jungkook is the baby of his family, the youngest lil prince in the castle

he's kind of spoiled rotten honestly because his older brothers absolutely adore him, and they shower him in more attention than he knows what to do with

like he could bat an eyelash and hoseok would be at his side, asking if he needed anything

whenever he wants to practice his sparring, yoongi immediately stops whatever they're doing to help with bow and arrow practice or sword skills

jimin ALWAYS sneaks him pastries and buns from the kitchen

speaking of which pineapple buns?? ten out of ten would recommend

and while the princes are beautiful and kind and soft the kingdom itself is not

it's a dark kingdom, a rainy kingdom, where the sun rarely seems to shine

the main focus of the kingdom is agriculture, even though that's always a bust because of the terrible climate

they really make more money through weapon sales and trade all that good stuff

even though the kingdom is kind of tight on money yikes

but it's not like falling to shambles, not at all

the king runs a very tight schedule, and things are very organized, very controlled, very well run

yoongi is next in line for the throne, but the king totally favors jungkook and low key tries to give him more power than the other princes

but jungkook doesn't want that!! he just wants to chill with all his brothers and have a good time!!

okay let's get on with the story because i had a quality idea and boy howdy i sure forget things fast

alright, so the princes are making one of their daily visits to the town

but disguised, because things are no fun when everyone is bowing and trying to kiss your feet

cliche--- but i love it--- they have the really large cloaks and they just keep the cowls up because that would totally work

lol it does in this scenario

they love to look at the local produce, drink cheap ale at the local tavern, play tag with the local kids, and just interact with their people

not something the king does everyday lmao

today, it's rather cold, and jungkook can see that winter is coming by the way frost crawls up the trunks of trees, the way the birds have already started flying south, the way more and more shops close their doors to ward off the wintery winds

the boys still like to visit around town though

jungkook especially loves seeing the transformed landscape

as the youngest prince, he's usually cooped up indoors, listening to his tutor drone on about the influence of naval power upon the world, or balancing books on his head to maintain great posture or some other bs

so he loves being outside to see the pond freeze over, or the dirt start to be painted white due to the little snowflakes

he doesn't like seeing so many people so worried about their futures though

like i said, poorer kingdom, so most of the people suffer through the cold months with one blanket for a family of five, and half a loaf of bread amongst them

jungkook always tries to give people money, but yoongi tells him that's only temporary aid and he will make changes once he's in power

that doesn't ease the hurt in jungkook’s heart though

anyway they're in town right, and the middle two boys have gone off to god knows where, leaving yoongi and jungkook to themselves

they're in the middle of town, strolling amongst the various vendors, examining all the goods made available to them

out of the corner of his eye, he watches someone dart towards the bakers cart

there's a loud crash and jungkook spins around to see you on the ground, loaf of bread tucked under your arm

someone starts shouting and you push yourself off the ground, trying to desperately run for your life

a few soldiers start chasing after you and you're running fast, so fast, you don't pay attention to your surroundings and completely slam into jungkook, causing you to once again fall on your butt

one of the soldiers grabs your a and yanks you to your feet

“common filth like you ought to spend the rest of your days in prison, rotting away until the rats-”

“that's enough.” jungkook snaps

“and who are you to tell me what to do?” the guard laughs

jungkook throws off his hood and the guards immediately fall to their knees, begging mercy

jungkook gives you a soft smile, then devotes his attention to the guards

“how DARE you touch my servant like that.”

“your highness, you must be mistaken, this is a common criminal-”

“no, they are my servant, chosen by me to trust the security of this place. you know our enemies could attack whenever and wherever, and i need you to be on your best watch. clearly, you passed my simple test, and you shall be rewarded for it.” jungkook says, haughty tone to his voice.

he pulls a few coins from his change purse and tosses them to the baker

yoongi watches on silently, thinking of all the various ways he's going to beat jungkook’s insolent little ass tonight

you're shaking, badly, and you can't believe you were just saved by one of the princes, let alone the cutest one

jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you're like oh gods i need to thank him--

he turns his head “why are you just standing there? no servant of mine should be wasting time, gaping like a complete idiot.”

yoongi: boy what the f u c k

and that's where you find yourself later that evening, standing in jungkook’s room, freshly washed up and dressed in an outfit finer than anything you've seen, let alone worn in your entire life

“i've never had a servant close to my age.” jungkook is sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking his legs back and forth. “this will be fun i think. you're bound to be infinitely better than the boring old ladies that watch over me.”

you're too frightened to speak, so you stand there silently, shoulders tensed, eyes wide, hands clasped in front of you, trying to look anywhere but jungkook

“well come on, aren't you going to tell me your name?”

and so you do, sheepishly, so quiet that jungkook has to ask again

he nods when he finally hears you and then he kinda gets silent because yes he's the prince but he's kind of shy when it actually comes down to talking to people close to him in age

he starts kicking his legs again and then he gives you a quick look over

“well i guess i'll have to find someone to train you…” he says with a sigh

and you're like excuse me what you're the one who picked me off the street honey

but you can’t actually say that to him because like that shiz could get you beheaded or something and that is not what you need in life oh no

so you just kind of follow behind silently as he leads you off to where all the royal butlers and maids hang out and do their training mm hmmm

and when jungkook leads you in everyone is like ooh what’s up with the prince ooh look at the lil cutie he’s brought in

and they’re all like old so they can tease him like that because they practically raised this boy??

jungkook gets all red and he starts to stammer how it’s not like that and how he just wanted someone closer in age to serve him

and he just is like gotta blast sorry everyone

and so he leaves right away, not even giving you a good bye

you blink and all the servants swarm you, asking how you got jungkook to fall in love with you so quickly and you’re like in love what does that meaN

after all their inspecting and gossip about you, they actually get down to business about what you gotta do for jungkook as his new personal maid/butler

it seems simple

you have to accompany him to all his meetings, whether they be negotiations, tutoring lessons, or even dinner

you’re supposed to stay back and be like a shadow, just keeping an eye in case the dearest prince should ever need something

you also have to serve him tea in the afternoons, or at least, know how to

you need to help him dress in the morning and at first you’re like red in the face, sweating nervously, stuttering because what???

but the servants tell you that this job is only for really formal occasions, like when foreign princes and princesses come to visit and jungkook is too impatient to figure out how to wear his sash smh

basically you have to attend to his every need and you’re like great, i cannot wait, i’m ecstatic

or maybe, every time you touch, you feel the static (w/jungkook) and that’s why you’re so excited mm hmm

rijijaijajirt anyway

you’re super nervous especially since you just came off the streets, literally, like you have no social status or skills or ability to actually serve jungkook well

you’re like i will be beheaded within five days

you get the rundown on the whole thing, the whole job thing

and then the servants take you down to the servants’ quarters so you can set up a bed and sleep early so you’re well rested for the big day tomorrow

you set up a little spot in the corner of your room, and you’re like alright, i just need to sleep and maybe i’ll realize this is all a dream

nah fam

it’s not

because in burst jungkook, forlorn and confused look on his face

the servants are all rushing to bow and like ask what the deal is because royalty are so above entering the servants’ quarters (save hoseok who likes to come down every morning and say hi)

and jungkook points at you all accusing “aren’t you coming back? it’s been like three hours, you’re supposed to be back”

you look around at all the servants because “y’all just said i could sleep”

but they shrug and start to shoot each other looks and you realize that it’s ‘me against the world’

wow getting all the iconic songs in here tonight

you try to hide yourself in the corner but jungkook has obviously spotted you and he gives you this look

“i need your assistance, isn’t that your job? to assist me?”

you inwardly groan but give a nod of the head because this boy did save your life, you kinda owe him big time

“come on then!”

jungkook turns on his heel and you follow close behind, the other servants giving you winks and grins as you walk by

jungkook takes you back to his room and you’re like what it is late and i am tired and-

he just plops down on his bed and crosses his legs criss cross apple sauce and smiles all cute and you feel your heart start to stir at the innocence of him

“i want you to read to me.”

“you what now.”

“are you questioning me?”

“i mean, of course. which book your highness?”

jungkook points to one over on his night stand and you pick it up and inwardly stab yourself because it’s a history book about famous battles of lost kingdoms

jungkook looks so excited though and his eyes light up and you’re like oh my god fine…

you don’t know where to stand though and you kind of stand there awkwardly and open the book but it feels like you’re preaching to him or something

jungkook rolls his eyes and scoots over on the huge canopy bed and pats the now empty space beside him

“when i was little, my brothers would always read to me. yoongi was the worst. he always spoke all monotone and he would tell me horror stories and i would cry and then jimin would have to calm me down. yoongi is mean.”

when you don’t take the seat, he turns his head “i command you sit next to me.”

so you take a reluctant seat beside him with the heavy book still in your arms, doing your best not to look over at jungkook because you know that it’s wrong to look royalty in the eye let alone touch them

or like, idk, sit on their bed

while they are also sitting on the said bed

“hoseok was the best at reading. whenever he would read me fairy tales, he would change voices for all the characters!! he would always make them so exciting and give everything a happy ending…”

“so you have three brothers then?” you ask slowly, knowing that you’re not supposed to address jungkook so… familiarly

“three. i’m the baby. me and hoseok have the same mom, so maybe that’s why he likes me the most.” jungkook turns to face you. “but yoongi is the only son of the actual queen. so he’s the one who’s next in line obviously. he’s the one who was out with me! he likes me a lot too. jimin likes me too.”

“everyone likes you it seems.”

“i hope so.”

you two fall silent but it’s not really uncomfortable, just wary, because you two are in very distinct and separate roles that should never ever be more than a prince and servant, like they shouldn’t ever grow beyond that

but jungkook seems so… genuine? he saved your life and he treats you like an equal already, going as far to talk to you so openly about his family and everything? amazing, what a hero

anyway monsta x hero japanese version actually flows very nicely and you can tell they put a lot in time into making the japanese work with the music and beat so check it out my dudes

also anyone trying to go their concert…

okay anyway you start reading and it’s the most boring and dry thing you have ever read in your entire freaking life and you just wanna fall asleep but jungkook seems pretty fascinated so you keep going for his sake

it’s really pretty bad like you have no idea what pineapples have to do with warfare but they’re a pretty key role in this book

jungkook is practically leaning on your shoulder now because he wants to see all twenty seven of the pictures and he’s so excited by them

“it’s because, since i won’t have to get married because our kingdom pisses everyone off, i’ll probably be commander of the army or something. when yoongi steps down i mean. because he’s the one who has to be married, because he’s the only non-bastard son, ya know?”

you glance over at him “but aren’t you scared?”

“no. i live on adrenaline.”

and as you serve jungkook more and more you find that to be true

jungkook does whatever he wants whenever he wants

like one day you’re bringing him the afternoon tea and he’s busy messing around with his loyal doggy that you have to be like “yO YOUR HIGHNESS”

“you can just call me jungkook you know”

he’s bored and wants someone to spar? well it’s time to hop on yoongi’s bed and smash him until he can’t breathe

it’s cold in the castle? time to go and steal all of hoseok’s clothes? (which often end up having to be mended because hoseok is so thin and jungkook is so muscular that… rip (get it because he’s ripped, and the clothes rip…)

where did all of jimin’s dessert pastries go? oh wait they’re stuffed in jungkook’s cheeks

most of your days are spent trying to keep jungkook out of trouble rather than actually helping him do anything

jungkook doesn’t do it to be mischievous or anything, it’s mostly because he wants the attention of his older brothers who are all suddenly too busy to pay much attention to him anymore

he doesn’t actually say that but you can tell

he keeps interrupting literally anything they do and yes they love jungkook but it’s hard to work when he’s disrupting everything

jungkook ends up being such a disturbance that he ends up in solitary confinement

seriously

the king has done had it with jungkook, which is rare, and he tells him he needs to stay in his room until he learns how to behave

jungkook whines and complains but then he figures out you’re basically trapped with him so he’s pretty okay

“chess?’ is the first thing he suggests

“is the purpose to get rid of the king?”

and instead of screaming nOOoOOoooOOooooooOOOoo like casey, the resident asshole of my math class, he offers to teach you how to play since you two have like all the time in the world

all the time in the world being until dinner later that evening

you two sit down in the spacious room and he sets up the chess board

the pieces are glass, and they’re so intricate and beautifully carved and you’re so scared that you might break them or something but jungkook reassures you that everything will be okay and that they would want to be used

he tosses you your queen or king and with a wink goes “wow look the chess piece that represents you”

“wow, did jimin teach you that one?”

“yoongi actually”

“wow, impressive”

you can’t help but blush as you set up your pieces though

you still have no idea how to play though, and you sit there kind of dumbly as jungkook poises, ready to move his first piece

“oh, how could i forget?”

he starts going over all the pieces, and how many spaces they can move and how, and how the game actually works and i’m not actually sure because nobody would answer me in math today smh

but then

then he grabs your hand and delicately guides your fingers to move your first piece and now your heart is racing and your face must be red as the draping over his bed but you try to keep it cook because servants can’t just up and fall in love with their princes, that’s not allowed

oops too late i guess…

jungkook is bad at chess because he’s impatient and he doesn’t really like to take much time planning his moves

which is okay in your book because he likes it’s cute to see him get worked up and puff his cheeks out when you take out one of his pieces

i have the ap language exam tomorrow wait a second

he complains and whines and tells you that you’re cheating by distracting him but he just doesn’t like to lose

but he wants you to win because your eyes light up and you get all smiley when you take another one of his pieces and wow he is in love

he is in like, love is a big commitment and hoseok already warned him that their father would be furious if jungkook fell for you, even if he is the favorite son

jungkook told hoseok that nothing like that would ever happen but lol here we are my dudes, here we are

after you crush jungkook in chess, he decides that the next best thing to do to win his honor back is play you in dice

which he also loses at because he likes seeing your smile too much and his honor is something he’s willing to sacrifice if you’re happy in the end

“i’m so sad that i lost, maybe you should make it up to me.” jungkook pouts, flinging himself onto his bed dramatically soon afterward

“well what did you have in mind?”

“tell me a story.”

so you walk over to his bookcase, the one full of tales of old, and reach out to grab the history of war for what has to be the millionth time

but jungkook stops you with a soft, “no, from your head.”

like so many times before he pats the empty seat beside him, and you take your seat, snuggling you back up to the fluffy pillows

you take a deep breath and begin

“there once was a prince in a far away kingdom, with dragons and warlocks and pegauss knights. he was youthful and bright, with eyes like a deer and the curiosity of one too. he had the sweetest smile and the chubbiest cheeks and his nose was too big for his face, but in an endearing, adorable sort of way. the prince was adored by everyone, from his father, to his brothers, to the townspeople. everyone had heard of his skill with a sword, his knowledge of the worlds around him, but mostly his kindness that stretched even to the most lowly of people.”

you expect jungkook to say something saucy in remark but he listens with rapt attention, his gaze focused on you and you alone

“the prince loved everyone, but he couldn’t seem to ever find it in his heart to believe in himself.”

you know this to be true about jungkook

you’ve watched him spend countless hours sparring, and then beating himself up about messing up one move out of seven million, then pick his sword back up to practice once again

you see him as he preens and preps to dress more like yoongi, to walk more like hoseok, to converse more like jimin in the most subtle ways possible

he constantly finds things about himself to pick apart, and it breaks your heart

“the prince was always so busy caring for others, that he forgot to care for himself.”

jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and inhales slowly

you take a deep breath

you close your eyes

and then you take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers

jungkook gives your hand a tight squeeze

the story continues, and then the story soon ends, though jungkook has fallen asleep on your shoulder and will not hear of how the prince and his ever loyal servant end up with the happiest of endings

“and they lived happily ever after.” you whisper, leaning down and kissing the top of his head

you don’t remember drifting off but you sure as heck do, because the next thing you hear is hoseok’s shrieking

like shrieking as in he probably get stabbed and the castle is under attack

you go to get up but there is an arm around your torso and a face buried in your back and you’re finally piecing everything together

“jungkook, you gotta let go-”

another horrified shriek from hoseok

“i mean your highness------”

hoseok runs over to the two of you and shakes jungkook awake

“hurry up, if you two are in love which by the looks of it, you are, there’s only a limited amount of time that i can marry you before father finds out. i may not be ordained, but i could bullshit my way through it”

jungkook pushes himself up groggily and stares down at you because what are you doing here??

oh wait a second

hoseok is pulling at both of your arms but it’s too late, in walks the king, with jimin and yoongi pulling at his arms to try and stop him

the king stares at the scene, at hoseok trying to block to you, at jungkook yawning with his arm still around your waist, at your absolutely horrified face

“jungkook”

“father no, wait-”

“this isn’t your battle to fight hoseok, now leave”

“father, pl-”

“i said LEAVE”

the other three princes scurry out and now it’s just you, jungkook, and the king

he’s an intimidating man, muscular as jungkook, but with a hard face and sharp features

you and jungkook rush to stand up and bow, you avoiding his gaze at all costs

the king walks over and commands you both to stand

you’re trembling now and jungkook holds onto your hand in an attempt to somehow reassure you, but it’s not happening because you feel like you’re about to break down in tears now

the king won’t say anything and it seems like time has frozen completely

but then he pulls jungkook into his arms and hugs him tightly

you’re both in shock to say the least

the king hugs jungkook tighter “my precious son, how you’ve grown”

and then the king pulls you into his arms and now it’s a family hug and you’re wondering why this is happening and how he is okay with this but then you remember that jungkook’s mother was a maid

and suddenly things are starting to make more sense

“father, i… i love them”

“as i’ve noticed my boy.”

jungkook nods and you can see the tears in his eyes, and you can see the tears in his father’s eyes

“i remember when you were first born… you were so small, so helpless… now look at you, pulling the same tricks i did when i first met your mother.”

he ruffles jungkook’s hair and now all of you are laughing softly, at ease at the way the situation played out

hoseok pokes his head in the door “so when’s the wedding?”

yes, there is a wedding

a grand and beautiful wedding to which the entire kingdom is invited to attend

complete with thousands and thousands of flowers

with a giant cake that jimin keeps trying to swipe icing off of

with hoseok sobbing his eyes out and continually trying to pull jungkook into a tight and bone-crushing hug

with yoongi being the one who volunteers to walk you down the aisle

and yes, jungkook is too impatient to figure out just how to put his suit on correctly, sash and all

your hands are shaking as you fix the crown atop his head

and your hands are shaking hours later when he slips the silver band onto your finger

and yes, they are still shaking when you cup his face in your hands and lean in for your first kiss with the boy you are going to spend the rest of your life with

[chaosmagetwin]

The Stroke of a Pen

Chapter List: http://chaosmagetwin.tumblr.com/post/159499715775/dark-wizardess-chapter-master-list

I stood in the hallway, surrounded by people as I dripped water. Around my feet was mud that had dripped off my bare feet and shins. Ahead of me was an even larger crowd, surrounding the Princess, Kayla, I reminded myself, pleading with her. They wanted to know what she was going to do to Lord Arithya. Some wanted his head. Others wanted his entire families head. A few just wanted him exiled, and even fewer wanted clemency. They had turned on him quickly. 

I was ignored, thankfully. No one wants to be stuck in the middle of an angry crowd. Guards were pushing people back,but there weren’t enough. My own guards, who’d been following me at a distance all day, had moved in to protect the princess. It was odd. I’d barely seen them at all, since she’d told me that i’d be followed by them a week ago. Now that I got a good look at them, dressed as they were in dark clothes and scuffed armor, they looked more like assassins than guards. Meanwhile, the princes herself looked frustrated. Finally, she shouted with a spell enhancement. 

“Enough!” Her voice boomed in the great hall of the castle. “Lord Arithya will be sentenced tonight! The sentence will be passed by me then. If you wish to see it, you can be there, but you must be SILENT. Exit the castle and get to your fields. There is much work to be done.” There was an almost audible groan, but the crowd complied, except for a few hanger-ons. Annoyed Rabble Rousers, servants, and a few too slow to know better. The guards pushed them out, and the ones who protected the princess almost did the same to me,until my own stopped them. I gave a short curtsy to them, smirking. I got a glare in return. 

“Penny, go get changed.” She snapped a finger to a servant. “Bring... oh, I don’t know... a tailor with a set of dresses for a short petite woman to her room.” She sighed as the servant rushed off. “Apparently, this is going to be an event...” She muttered to herself.

I moved for the stairs, only to find it blocked by an angry looking servant. She glared at me, then looked pointedly at my feet. “Is there a wash basin I could use, mistress?” I asked her as politely as I could. Her face brightened and softened in the same moment, and she nodded. 

“A’cour’, M’Lady. Righ’ thi’ way.” She led me to a room just off from the great hall, near the entrance. “Any time you nee’ tah clean your feet, jus’ step righ’ in here. There alway’ a ba’in here.” Indeed, there was a basin, several in fact, sitting next to the wall nearest to the door, each filled with clear water. Short stools sat in front of each basin.“’Pologie for my peakin’, I lo’t ome teeth not too long ago.” I looked up at her from the washbasin, an eyebrow raised. She shook her head. “Not ayin’ to what, m’lady.”

I made a face at her. “C’mere. I have some magic that might help. You’ll have to tell me what happened though.” I motioned to a stool. “Otherwise, the spell might not stick.”

She grimaced, and sat down. “Well, it’ ju’t... my hu’band....” I already knew what she would say. She noticed the look on my face. “But it’ only when he drink! I ‘wear! He don’t drink often, ju’t when the field be going bad.... He don’t mean it. He’ a good man, work hard all day. He love’ me.”

I schooled my face into blank emotion. It wasn’t my place to judge. Not yet. “I can regrow your teeth for you. What is your name?” I asked carefully. 

“I am known by Tallie ‘mith, M’lady.” Now that she was closer, I could see the old bruises. I rinsed my hands in the basin water for a moment, then carefully touched them with the tips of my fingers. She didn’t flinch, and stared at me directly in the eyes. “I gave a’ good a’ I got. It’ only fair. He ‘pologi’ed the net day.” I smiled at her. She wasn’t meek. 

“I’m not the courts of law, Tallie. Hold still, or else these will grow in crooked.” I closed my eyes. I’d never done this spell before. If i did it wrong, I could leave her disfigured. I sent out a tiny pulse of magic, and memorized how her skull and teeth reflected back to me. Several were terribly rotten. Some were loose, a few were stuck. No wonder she had such a hard time speaking. Her jaw had to be killing her. A careful healing spell flowed into the rotted teeth, clearing out the rot first. She twitched in pain beneath my fingers. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. A spell of regrowth came next, healing those teeth back into good shape, and putting them into their correct places. Making new teeth would be more difficult. I stole and replaced a seed for each new tooth from some of her existing ones, and grew them until they were the proper size, making sure the roots took to her jaw. I opened my eyes a few moments later, and she was already feeling her jaw, a look of astonishment on her face. 

“It’s fizzed! I mean fixed! I can speak again! And it doesn’t hurt! Thank you, My lady!” She spoke each word carefully, delight on her face as she was able to enunciate each syllable. She stood up and almost burst into dance. 

“Wait, I have one more spell for you.” A quick pat on the stool got her to sit down, though she was barely able to contain her excitement. I tapped her forehead, and let a small burst of magic forth, creating a diagram that disappeared into her skin. It was one I was very familiar with. “This is a defensive spell. Anyone who hits you will feel it as if they hit themselves. However, it also goes for you. Anyone YOU hit, YOU will feel. Ah! Don’t speak. Tell your husband to stop drinking so much, or you both will suffer for it.” Her face suddenly aghast. “I believe in fairness, Mistress Smith. Show each other some restraint. You’ll both be better for it.” I turned back to the basin and focused on my feet as she darted out of the room. I sighed. She wouldn’t appreciate that spell, but the honest truth was that I didn’t know who was in the wrong, if either was an instigator. Ultimately, the spell could only help, right? 

I flinched as the familiar bells rung. “Could only help? Are you sure about that?” I looked around, frustrated. Of course, nothing was visible. “What if her husband gets blindingly drunk and beats her until she dies, because he is feeling pain?”

“You know, you’re a real pain in the ass. Always showing up and making me question my sanity. If he does that, then he’ll wind up beating himself to death too.” I scrubbed the mud off my shins, watching as the water changed color. 

“And what if a gang of people beat her? or bandits show up?”

I glared at the water, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Then, I guess it doesn’t help. But it doesn’t hurt!”

“Unless she defends herself.” I froze. I hadn’t considered that, actually. “Ah, the great wizardess realizes the flaw in her master plan. Normally, I’d be more subtle, but, really.” Was it.. angry?

“Why do you care? You weren’t around before I was captured to give me moral advice.”

“No, I wasn’t. A shame, really. What is your grand plan, anyways? Working with the princess forever? Surely, you aren’t satisfied in playing second fiddle.” I stepped out of the muddy water, and shrugged. “And what of the time when the princess tires of you and your games? When she has no more use for you? A criminal.”

I sighed as I stepped up the stairs, ignoring the spell diagram’s voice that refused to leave me. A ghost of a spell. The whisperings of insanity. 

“Ignore me if you like. You’re only ignoring your own conscience after all.”

I pulled at the itchy cotton dress, feeling like I was being suffocated. No surprise, since it was a child’s dress, and didn’t account for breasts. It was the only one I had liked, though, of the three brought to me; a black kirtle and white smock. I felt like a child, and looked like one too. It didn’t help that I was steaming in the heavy garments.

Meanwhile, Kayla stood at the top of the Dais, wearing a royal purple gown with gold and silver accessories, her Tiara once again adorning her blonde hair. I’d seen the dress and tiara once before, when I’d fought the princess the first time. The gown itself was actually capable of being discarded with a simple push of a button, to showing pants beneath that she could fight in. For a few short moments, I wished fervently for my old skirt and blouse. They were far more comfortable than this unfamiliar and illfitted sack of a dress. 

I stood at the front of a crowd of people, on either side of me my guards, though they were dressed in simpler clothes. If they wore armor, it was hidden, but for the first time I could see their faces; a woman stood on my left, tall and bulky with muscle. On my right was a thin man, scars breaking across the right of his pinched face, giving him a lopsided look. Beyond them, a sea of peasants that filled out the entirety of the great hall. Kneeling on the dais, his eye closed shut tightly and his lips moving in a blazing fast prayer, was Lord Arithya, his hands tied behind his back. His wife and children stood to the side of the hall, their faces red with weeping. Only the wife held a stoic look, her face calm, though her hands were clenched so tightly in front of her they had turned white, and blood dripped from one hand, where nails had dug in, no doubt. 

The tension in the room was electric and oppressive. What had once seemed like a well-sized and lit great hall now felt like a dimly lit cave, oil lamps burning as brightly as they could to stave off the grim fog. All eyes were on the princess, her face unreadable, her feet planted proudly, eyes looking above everyone haughtily. She looked as queenly as could be. 

“Tonight, we are gathered to hear the sentence of Lord Arithya.” Her voice echoed in the silent hall, though she spoke quietly. “He is accused and guilty of lying to the crown and wasting crown funds and food. He has let his castle fall into disrepair, and insulted the crown.” The woman on my right reached for her hip, then clenched her hand. A reflexive move. “For the crime of lying to the crown, the sentence is death. I ask you, the people in service to Castle Arithya, what do you plead?”

A murmur swept through the crowd, then came a shout. “Guilty! Death to the traitor! Let him hang!” Several shouted in agreement. 

“No! Clemency, your highness! He has been a good lord. We have not suffered beneath him!” There was a murmur of agreement. 

“If I may speak, Your highness. I know I am biased...” It was the wife to Lord Arithya. “I am Lady Arithya and Tursen. My husband is guilty, it is true, but not intentionally. He is not an organized or intelligent man, but I love him nonetheless. I ask you, please... clemency. As a noble, as a woman who loves him!”

Kayla waited for silence. “For the crime of wasting Crown Funds and Food from Our granaries, the punishment is death. Our country is in need of food in many places. Yet he throws a feast. How do you plead?”

“Death!” came several shouts again. A few shouted otherwise.

Lady Arithya looked ready to speak again, until the princess glared at her. “You have spoken your mind once. I will assume your bias continues for each.” She looked back at the crowd, her eyes watching each person like a hawk as they argued. “Silence!” She said after nearly thirty seconds of listening. “To the third count, he has let his castle fall into disrepair. The punishment for this is a fine and a warning. The fourth is to insulting the crown, the punishment for which is death. However, I forgive him that.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “People of Arithya, I have heard your desires. But, I must tell you that I had come to a decision before asking you. There is protocol to be followed, and principles to be upheld. There is precedent for only one outcome, and that is death.” A few gasps sounded from behind me, and I watched as Lady Arithya closed her eyes tight. Her children cried softly. The oldest couldn’t have been older than eight. 

“Lord Arithya. Please stand.” He stood, his face pale white, his body shaking. He held his chin high.

“I am ready to die, Your Highness.” He said carefully. I stared at him in shock. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I am sorry for what happened. I wish I were a smarter, more capable man.” He gulped, trying to hold something back. 

The princess made no move, her expression flat. “Lord Arithya, you have failed this country as a noble. Your people suffered beneath your rule, though some might say otherwise. You lied to the crown. What excuses do you have?”

“None, Your highness. I haveonly to say that I did what I thought best for my poeple. I limited the food available to them so that we could last through the winter and spring, and have some left for the next year. I lied to the crown for that end.”

There was murmuring in the crowd. “Silence!” The princess said sharply. “Lord Arithya, I grant you clemency today.” There was a gasp from the crowd. “Know that the crown is displeased with you. There will be fines to your personal accounts. Your orders are simple. You are to make your castle stronger by this time next year. Not simply repaired, but strengthened. Next time, do not lie to the crown. Just make your requests simply. We do not take kindly to being misled.”

“But he’s lied to the crown! I thought he was going to be put to death!” A voice called from the crowd. They sounded angry.

“The country is in desperate need of nobles who think of their people.” She said calmly. “After much debate and research into his actions, I was able to make the decision last night. If you came here tonight, expecting to be entertained with an execution, you may leave and find your entertainment elsewhere. “

The crowd muttered, and dispersed as the Princess and the nobles left the room. I followed, hiking up the dress to step quickly. “Hey!” It was the woman guard. 

“Oh, what, you’re going to stop me?” I smirked at her as she followed, and she glared at me. “Please. There are things that need to be done.” I hurried after the princess and found the group in the hall She was staring down Lady Arithya.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that. I let it go, because I knew how it would end, but if you ever pull out black magic again, I will end you.” The ladies face was pale, but she stood resolute. 

“The life of the man I love was in danger, anyone would have done the same. I apologize for my fear getting the better of me.”

“You are lucky I knew that, or you would be nothing but a charred streak on the wall,” I said casually. They all looked over at and I gave them a smug smirk. 

“You noticed it, Penny?”

“Of course. I learn fast.” I looked the noble mother up and down, and shrugged.

She returned the favor, then glared at me. “You’re nothing but a peasant. You wouldn’t dare.” I stared at her and burst out laughing. Her jaw clenched. “Just because the princess favors you does not mean you can get away with anything you want.”

Kayla sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Lady Arithya, this is Penny. My Wizardess. The one who tried to kill me a month ago.” They looked at me in new light, and I gave them a sharks smile. 

“I take care of the Princesses magical defense these days.” It was a lie, but they wouldn’t call me out on it. They either knew the princess could take care of herself, or they would think that I would do it for her. 

Kayla shook her head. “I am going to bed. Arithya, you can expect a Royal Eye in one month. They had better report good things by then. Lady Arithya, use you magic for something other than looking pretty. Go spend it on making the lives of your people better. Hire some mages from the Mages Guild to get some work done.” 

We walked up the stairs, leaving the family behind. She looked over at me, and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you wearing that?”

[swipestream]

New Release Roundup, 24 November 2018: Fantasy and Adventure

Samurai struggle with honor in civil war, dragons soar over nuclear wastelands, and Louis L’Amour, Andre Norton, and David Drake return in this roundup of the newest releases in fantasy and adventure fiction.

Blade of Retribution (Blood Samurai #3) – Lynn Francis 

An emperor’s wraith from the grave that would see the fall of a dynasty and the rise of the samurai.

At great cost to his soul and sanity, Riku believes he has the demon Sutoku under control. With the aid of the witch Takiyasha hime the demon Sutoku is no longer a separate presence but a part of Riku – a part that demands the blood of those he seeks his vengeance upon.

The war that had been brewing has been in stalemate and a supernatural famine is tearing apart the land. Before it reaches it’s breaking point the Taira move against the Minamoto and the Minamoto will be ready.

For they have also made a pack for power and as betrayal after betrayal comes, the dark forces that threaten to consume the land grow stronger and stronger.

Will Riku be able to overcome his past and stop both his and his country’s descent into madness?

Cirsova: Heroic Fantasy and Science Fiction #10 – edited by Cirsova Publishing

Cirsova Magazine is for readers who want exciting tales of daring heroes up against impossible odds in exotic settings. It’s also for authors of adventure SFF.

Novelette

Crying in the Salt House, by B. Morris Allen

Short Stories

Jeopardy Off Jupiter IV, by Spencer E. Hart

The Best Workout, by Frederick Gero Heimbach

A Song in Deepest Darkness, by Jason Ray Carney

Amsel the Immortal, by Lauren Goff

An Interrupted Scandal, by Misha Burnett

The Sword of the Mongoose, by Jim Breyfogle

When Gods Fall in Fire, by Brian K. Lowe

Poetry

My Name is John Carter (Part 7), by James Hutchings

Dragon Mage – Andre Norton and Jean Rabe

Shy realizes that she is lucky to be taken in by her grandparents after her father dies–but life above an antique store in Slade’s Corners, Wisconsin is not exactly the place a teenage girl wants to be.

One day while going through boxes of her father’s boyhood stuff, she comes upon a rare old set of dragon puzzles … all of which are missing pieces. Her grandmother recalls the fantastic tales Shy’s father would tell about his travels to lands of dragons and adventure. She always thought that these fantasies were inspired by the puzzles Shy has found.

Shy realizes that by mixing and matching the different sets she can complete a single dragon puzzle that combines all of the others. Upon doing so she is whisked away to ancient Babylon where she must continue the duties of her father’s legacy as a servant to the dragon and a savior of the world.

  Iron Garland (Harbinger #3) – Jeff Wheeler 

For three years, Sera Fitzempress has been a pawn in a gilded prison—the floating manor of Pavenham Sky. Disgraced and exiled from society, she has been isolated from the downtrodden she’s determined to liberate. But although Sera may seem subservient on the outside, the stubborn princess has only become emboldened.

Now in charge of her family’s estate, Cettie Pratt has grown into an independent young woman, although she continues to be tested by the high society of the clouds. Advancing in the magic of the Mysteries, Cettie is also a useful tool of defense during turbulent times. However, as more of Cettie’s mysterious past comes to light, her greatest challenge may be a reckless stranger with a dark secret.

The fog of war is drawing in, and with it comes a startling new enemy who may unravel secrets that both women would prefer stay hidden. But their secrets may be the only way to stop the coming darkness…

The Minstrel and the Mercenary – David Scoles 

For Dafydd ap Gwilym, Welsh poet and minstrel, a life composing poems of chivalry and courtly love while enjoying the patronage of the Black Prince of Wales felt like the dream of every poor second son – until he found himself caught up in the siege of Caen and needed to be rescued by the dangerous Radu the Black, a hardened mercenary of Transylvania.

Forced into an unlikely partnership by the King of England, Gwilym and Radu must solve a murder while hunting down a band of killers led by a mercenary known only as the Nachzehrer, but there is more to this murder than Gwilym suspects…

The fate of Europe is the balance as Radu and Gwilym race to uncover a conspiracy, but can a minstrel and a mercenary find a way to trust one another even as the past comes back to haunt them both?

No Traveller Returns (Louis L’Amour’s Lost Treasures #2) – Louis L’Amour and Beau L’Amour

As the shadows of World War II gather, the SS Lichenfield is westbound across the Pacific carrying eighty thousand barrels of highly explosive naphtha. The cargo alone makes the journey perilous, with the entire crew aware that one careless moment could lead to disaster.

But yet another sort of peril haunts the Lichenfield. Even beyond their day-to-day existence, the lives of the crew are mysteriously intertwined. Though each has his own history, dreams and jealousies, longing and rage, all are connected by a deadly web of chance and circumstance.

Some are desperately fleeing the past; others chase an unknown destiny. A few are driven by the desire for adventure, while their shipmates cling to the Lichenfield as their only true home. In their hearts, these men, as well as the women and children they have left behind, carry the seeds of salvation or destruction. And all of them—kind or cruel, strong or broken—are bound to the fate of the vessel that carries them toward an ever-darkening horizon.

Radioactive Evolution – Richard Hummel

How far would you go to change humanity’s fate?

Jared Cartwright has spent the last two years delving into the twisted, scarred wastelands of an earth ravaged by nuclear war. The rich and powerful have taken to the oceans and skies on floating utopias, escaping destruction and leaving the rest of humanity to fend off the mutated creatures that roam the earth.

To face his new reality, Jared must become an apex predator if he hopes to survive. He must evolve beyond human limitations to confront those that left mankind to die.

Jared’s quest takes a new turn when he discovers dragons are real.

Red Skies (The Valens Legacy #11) – Jan Stryvant

With the President on his side and the failure of the Vestibulum’s last-ditch attempt to stop him, it seems that Sean’s goal is almost complete. Until, that is, the First moves up Sean’s timetable to deal with Canada and Mexico. Also it seems that a group in Congress is starting to push back against the President’s executive order, but no one really seems to know why. Or even who’s behind it.

Canada proves to be full of unexpected surprises, but when events start heating up in Washington D.C., Sean is forced to switch gears and reassess his priorities. Things are not always what they seem, of course, and things that didn’t make sense before start to take on an ominous meaning as Sean begins to learn about the real enemy that he is facing.

And he’ll be facing them much sooner than anyone suspected.

The Spark (Time of Heroes #1) – David Drake

In the time of the Ancients the universe was united—but that was so far in the past that not even memory remains, only the broken artifacts that a few Makers can reshape into their original uses. What survives is shattered into enclaves—some tiny, some ruined, some wild.

Into the gaps between settlements, and onto the Road that connects all human reality and the reality that is not human and may never have been human, have crept monsters. Some creatures are men, twisted into inhuman evil; some of them are alien to Mankind—and there are things which are hostile to all life, things which will raven and kill until they are stopped.

A Leader has arisen, welding the scattered human settlements together in peace and safety and smashing the enemies of order with an iron fist. In his capital, Dun Add, the Leader provides law and justice. In the universe beyond, his Champions advance—and enforce—the return of civilization.

Pal, a youth from the sticks, has come to Dun Add to become a Champion. Pal is a bit of a Maker, and in his rural home he’s been able to think of himself as a warrior because he can wield the weapons of the Ancient civilization. Pal has no idea of what he’s really getting into in Dun Add. On the other hand, the Leader and Dun Add have no real idea of what might be inside this hayseed with high hopes.

Web of Eyes (Buried Goddess Saga #1) – Rhett C. Bruno and Jaime Castle 

The kingdom’s only hope against evil is a rotten thief.

Self-proclaimed “World’s Greatest Thief”, Whitney Fierstown, has yet to find a trinket or treasure he couldn’t steal. He nearly pulls off the heist of the century by snatching the Glass Crown off the dying king’s head until rotten luck throws him into the path of Torsten Unger, a steadfast knight determined to save his vulnerable kingdom.

Torsten offers this ultimatum: rot and die in a dank cell or join him on a dangerous expedition and put his skills to good use. The Queen’s treasonous brother has cursed the Crown Prince by taking a piece of his soul and hiding it in the haunted Webbed Woods. Only a master thief can steal it back.

Rebellion building in the south. Madness seated upon the throne. Famine and death spreading throughout the land. The kingdom is in peril.

If this unlikely pair is to thwart their devious target, save the prince, and survive the horrifying monster lurking in the darkness, they must first put aside their differences…or die trying.

New Release Roundup, 24 November 2018: Fantasy and Adventure published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames