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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ What Of Our Godly And Divine Love

content: god! leo valdez x goddess! daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: writing that's gonna make you wanna throw up bc its badddddddd tbh but that's it!! author's note: we started off so strong but then i remembered...i legit hate writing love confessions. they always turn out so cheesy. and also, i got so caught up in the whole 'what are they the gods of' thing and lost the plot but if this sits in my drafts for a moment longer i will just disappear and die and rot and decay and-

following the events of the war against gaea, the seven would summon to olympus. didn't even give them time to catch a nap or anything. in fact, as all eight of them clambered into the elevator - still in their armor and covered in cuts and mud - leo's hair was still smoking and a tiny flame was twinkling. y/n reached up, squishing it out between two fingers. leo glanced up, triedly, before nodding over at her.

"thanks."

"anytime, bucko," she muttered, slumping against the wall next him, her blinks slowing down until the elevator dinged, startling the whole group. they moved out of the elevator and took in olympus, the rows and rows of terracotta buildings, fountains and trees scattered all about, what looked to be an amphitheatre in the foreground. percy and annabeth lead the way, as they knew where they were going.

after trekking a few stairs, which everyone was complaining about by the end, they found the gods. they were arranged like the cabins at camp, looking down at the eight of them from their seats. percy raised his hand to their father in a wave, one their father returned with a nod and smile, his eyes meeting his daughter's for the first time.

"welcome, demigods," zeus spoke, not so much as a smile on his face or any kindness in his voice. y/n and leo glanced over at jason, who turned his view downwards and chewed on his cheek.

"couldn't let me catch some sleep before this," leo muttered, earning him a pointed look from the girl next to him, which he replied with a look of his own.

"no, we couldn't, boy. you're about received the highest and greatest honor we have to offer and you regard me with snark?" zeus snarled, leaning forwards in his seat.

"watch your tone with my boy, zeus," hephaestus huffed from his seat and leo tried his best to hide his smile at the comment, but the daughter of poseidon saw straight through him.

"why are we here?" annabeth cut in, leaning against percy for support. the exhaustion was clear in her voice, which is what they were all feeling. the gods glanced among themselves before turning their attention back to the kids before them.

"we're offering all eight of you godhood."

they all stood still, simply glances being passed between them. honestly, none of them expected that. maybe a pat on the back, a gold star sticker if they were feeling generous, but not godhood. without thinking, y/n wrapped her hand around leo's, tangling their fingers together. he squeezed it, both of them finding comfort in the other's touch.

"well, offer is generous," athena cut in, raising a finger before lacing her hands together and turning to demigods before her, "we insist. you've all done so much for us, we simply must repay the favor."

"i dunno," percy muttered, "i've already told you once-"

"yes, we remember. but we figured, this is slightly different circumstances," zeus cut the boy off, making a point to look at annabeth. percy held his hands up before clapping them together and spinning around to the group behind him, waiting for his words.

"okay, huddle up. we're gonna talk this through."

"well, we don't really-" athena tried but percy just raised a hand to her.

"i said, we're gonna talk it through, thank you," he replied, not even taking his eyes off the group that huddled around him.

"okay, okay. all in favor of godhood, raise your hand," percy started. frank, hazel, piper, and jason raised their hands. percy nodded his head before looking down at annabeth, who was still tucked into his side. she seemed to be deep in thought before she looked up at him, tilting her head.

"i go where you go. it doesn't matter to me as long as youre there," she told him, firmly. percy nodded, taking in this information too, before lifting his and annabeth's interlocked hands.

"fuck it," y/n muttered, raising her hand too. leo laughed lightly before throwing his hand up as well, giving the hand that was still held in his a tight squeeze.

"alright, let's do this. fuck, we're gonna make terrible gods," percy muttered, earning a laugh from the group. they all shared glances, idiots with their hands raised, and knew that annabeth was right, like normal. it didn't matter because they were together. now for eternity, but that's just a minor detail.

"don't worry, you guys won't be in charge of anything major or really all that important!" apollo cheered from his seat, beaming a smile at them.

"oh, jeez, thanks," leo huffed with a roll of his eyes. once again the girl gave him a shove and look, but she was struggling to hide her smile. leo smirked to himself, proud to have gotten to her, even if it was just a little bit.

they granted godhood by age, figuring that was the easiest. techincally, hazel should have been first but i guess the gods didn't see it that way as they called jason up first. hera gave him a proud smile as they announced what he was the god of - static from balloons and broken staplers. he rolled his eyes in a light hearted manner, shaking his head as leo and piper wheezed with laughter. then it was annabeth's turn. athena couldn't seem to hide her proud smile as annabeth was dubbed the goddess of coffee rings and lost hair ties. the group of teens couldn't help but giggle at the silliness, annabeth especially.

next up was percy, who was entitled the god of secret handshakes and broken fishing line. he laughed, clinging onto annabeth, his joy oozing from him. poseidon couldn't seemed to hide is laughter either. you were next, unhappily removing your hand from leo's and stepping up. you glanced over at your father, who smiled widely at you before shooting a playful wink your way. you were named the goddess of broken seashells and ships in bottles. leo was shaking with laughter, you rolling your eye at the boy and sticking your tongue out at him playfully.

following you was piper, who was labelled the goddess of chipped nail polish and teens who couldn't pass their drivers tests. aphrodite was sitting up straighter than before, her chest puffed out in pride as piper snorted with laughter, draping her arm around you as the two of you laughed together. then it was frank, who shyly took the title of god of missing pet posters and maple syrup. he was quite proud of the maple syrup one, the canadian in him overjoyed.

finally, it was leo's turn. he was christened as the god of monkey wrenches and broken matches. he turned to y/n, raving about how much he loved a good monkey wrench. she couldn't help but shake her head at the boy, quickly reconnecting her hand with his own. and last, but certainly not least, was hazel. i have the great honor of introducing you to the goddess of cheap party jewelry and colorful eyeliner.

and that was that. you guys were forced to abandon the muddy clothes you wore, trading them in for robes and sandles and laurels. no one complained too much about that one. percy and annabeth got married as soon as they could, hera refused to do it but aphrodite was more than happy to go behind her back and bless the godly couple. everyone else was just settling in, getting used to being allowed to relax and not have the weight of the world on your shoulders.

you spent this time thinking of leo, thinking about the fact that you wished you'd said something about your feelings before agreeing to godhood. sure, you guys were close and touchy but...that was just leo. he flirted with anything that moved, which included you and your lovesick heart. following the godhood agreement, you figured leo would be right on his way to get with any nymph, dryad, or mortal that he saw fit. and you refused to turn out like hera, a wife stuck in a loveless marriage. forever.

at least, that's what you thought. it's been maybe a few weeks - honestly, it was kinda hard to keep track of on olympus - when leo came running up to you. he'd tripped over his toga a few times and his laurel nearly fell from his curls but he looked just as dashing as ever. in fact, you couldn't seem to find too much a difference between god leo and demigod leo, he was still the same goofy boy you'd fallen in love with.

"y/n, y/n, y/n, wait up-" he huffed, bending over and resting his hands against his thighs as he caught up to you, sucking breath back into his lungs.

"yes, leonidas?" you teased, having found his full name to be proper of a god. he rolled his eyes.

"ha, ha very funny. no, i'm here on serious matters," leo insisted, standing up straight and staring at you as his joking smile slipped off his face. this caused you to strand straighter too, your eye brows pitching together in worry.

"what's up? something wrong-"

"i talked to aphrodite," he started and you added a frown to your face, your head tilting at the boy.

"that's what you came to tell me-"

"would you just- just let me finish," leo cut in, holding his hands up, causing his laurels to slip once more. he groaned, shoving them back up before reverting his eyes back to you.

"i talked to aphrodite."

"yes, you already said."

"me, talking. you, shushing."

"alright, alright," you agreed, holding your hands up before making a zipper motion over your lips.

"she- she mentioned something and i just- i can't stop thinking about it. y/n, you're my percy. wait, that sounds wrong- no, but, you get the idea, right?? aphrodite said that we were fated, bound by souls or something, i dunno the logistics but i do know that she's right. i don't see myself with anyone else, haven't since the moment we've met," leo rambled, talking widely with his hands and keeping his eyes trained on the bottom of your baby blue toga, his adhd taking over his mouth.

"leo?"

"hmm?" he stopped, his eyes instantly darting to yours, which were looking at him with such a fondness that had his chest clenching.

"you're my annabeth, too. i don't care what aphrodite said or what the fates have to say. if you'll have me, i'll be yours and you can be mine," you joked, holding your godly hand out for his. he chuckled, easily tangling his hand with yours and pulling you closer by it. instantly, you wrapped your arms around his arm and his free hand found purchase on your waist.

and the two of you stayed like this, no rush in either of you. the two of you were overly aware of the fact that you had forever like this. forever to have and to hold, forever to cherish and to love. there was no need to rush this godly and divine love.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader

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abalonetea · 22 days

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Age is catching up to Abby faster than she wanted.

As she nears the end of her career as a lead diver, Abby Marsh is determined to make this one count. She and her team have been called out to make a final plunge to La Fosse Dionne, a fountain in Tonnerre, France, with a bottom that has yet to be discovered. The funding for the job comes in the form of Dr. Mark Golus, a strange man with too much money to spend and an odd obsession with the fountain.

From the start, there's something strange about the job. Too little information given, too high of a grant being offered, and a strange distaste towards the dive crew from all of the locals. But Abby is content to ignore the warning bells if it means getting her name on the front page one last time. She's less content to ignore them once the dive itself starts, and they realize that there's something else in the fountain with them. Between dead bodies that should have long since decayed, ravenous creatures that shouldn't exist, and glints of gold floating on the bottom of the cavern floor...Abby and her crew are in for the dive of a lifetime. It's one that they might not survive.

This old-fashioned creature feature brings readers to a small town in France, where a thrilling underwater cave adventure awaits.

AVAILABLE HERE

#writeblr #my books #youth sunken #horror book

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empirearchives · 5 months

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Napoleon and Water

Excerpt from the book Aaron Burr in Exile: A Pariah in Paris, 1810-1811, by Jane Merrill and John Endicott

Aaron Burr lived in Paris for 15 months, and this book goes into detail about those years living under Napoleon’s rule. This part focuses on Napoleon’s water related reforms.

———

Napoleon’s fountains gave drinking water to the population, that is, children drank water, not beer. The water was free, not purchased. And the apartment would have had a separate water closet equipped with squat toilets (adopted from the Turks) and a bucket to wash it after use. Some restaurants and cafes had W.C.s, even one for ladies and one for gents. These were hooked into the sewer system that branched under each important street.

Napoleon merits points for delivering fresh water to Paris. If serving Paris with water from the d'Ourcq River by canals was not be a consummate success, Paris gained 40 new fountains, and the emperor commanded that fountains run all day (instead of a few limited hours) and that the water be free of charge.

Perhaps the most laudable of Napoleon’s policies were utilitarian city works, especially bringing clean water and sanitation to Paris. The improvements to infrastructure included new quays to prevent floods, new gutters and pavement, new aqueducts and fountains, and relocating cemeteries and slaughterhouses to the outskirts of the city. This was also a way of keeping up employment. An Austrian aristocrat in town during Napoleon’s wedding to Marie-Louise wrote his mother, in Vienna: “Nothing can give an idea of the immense projects undertaken simultaneously in Paris. The incoherence of it is incredible; one cannot imagine that the life of a single man would be enough to finish them.”

It was a tall order. Previous rulers had been aware of the problems and one big engineering initiative, a failed marvel, had been the waterworks at Marly, located on the banks of the Seine about seven miles from Paris. Louis XIV had it constructed to pump water from the river to his chateaux of Versailles and Marly. This was the machine marvel of its age, with 250 pumps that forced river water up a 500-foot rise to an aqueduct, and it was a sight Burr mentions going to see. By 1817 the “Marly machine” had deteriorated because it was made of wood, and the waterworks were abandoned.

Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, the prominent 19th century literary critic, wrote that there had been “ten years of anarchy, sedition and laxity, during which no useful work had been undertaken, not a street had been cleaned, not a residence repaired nothing improved or cleansed.” Postrevolutionary Paris was at a nadir in terms of both the inadequate, disease-ridden water supply and the filthy streets, which were basically open sewers, deep with black mud and refuse.

“Napoleon,” writes Alistair Horne, “was obsessed by the water of Paris, and everything to do with it.”

Parisians had mostly been getting their water directly from the Seine or lining up at the scant pay fountains. In 1806, nineteen new wells for fountains were dug that flowed day and night and were free. Napoleon had a canal built 60 miles from the River Ourcq, ordering 500 men to dig it, while still a consul in 1801. It brought water to the Bassin de la Villette, opening in 1808. Some doubted the wisdom of having such an abundance of water—an oriental luxury that might incur moral decay. Now the supply of water for firefighting was also much improved. The canal had light boats, as Napoleon tried to make back some of the huge expenditure by licensing navigation, and a circular aqueduct from which underground conduits went to the central city. In 1810, there were still many water porters wheeling barrels through the city.

Now Napoleon attacked the problem of the Seine as a catchall for pollution. Parisians were so used to it that men swam naked in the river and a contemporary guidebook advised merely that the water of the Seine had no ill effects on foreigners so long as they drank it mixed with wine or a drop of vinegar. Thus houses on bridges were demolished and an immense push began to clean and modernize the city sewers.

As this book is about Aaron Burr, here is section about Burr taking inspiration by a new water related invention during his time in Paris:

Remarkably for someone who was very aware of his health, he never complained of the water. He did, however, take an interest in an invention to make it easier to dig a well. When the inventor of a process to make vinegar from the sap of any tree was not in his shop, Burr and a friend, “Crede”, went to see another invention: “We went then to see Mons. Cagniard, and his new invention of raising water and performing any mechanical operation. His apparatus is a screw of Archimedes turned the reverse, air, water, and quick silver. Cagniard was abroad; but we saw a model, and worked it, and got the report of a committee of the Institute on the subject. If the thing performs what is said I will apply it to give water to Charleston.”

[Bold italics for quotations by me]

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taeyongdoyoung · 5 months

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summary: a vampire and a werewolf want to put an end to the war between their families. in their dangerous attempt to achieve peace, they find love where they least expected... pairing: werewolf!mingyu x vampire!wonwoo x witch!reader genre: adventure, fantasy, a lil romance warnings: mentions of blood, burns, cutting, death, killing, suicide & other supernatural themes author's note: the title is inspired by taylor swift's bad blood, while the plot is vaguely influenced by romeo & juliet with the lore loosely based on twilight & the vampire diaries; some song references in italics hehe word count: 6.2k

Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Seoul, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where bad blood makes good hands unclean.

The werewolf Kim clan and the vampire Jeon clan had been enemies for as long as Mingyu could remember. He didn't recall a time when the two families didn't fight over something. There was an unwritten rule that the werewolves shouldn't go into the vampires' territory and vice versa. And for the most part, the agreement was followed. But occasionally, there were casualties. Occasionally, Mingyu lost a distant cousin or an uncle to the feud between the Kims and the Jeons. He was so tired of it. He wanted peace so desperately. Little did he know, he was not the only one who felt this strange longing.

Wonwoo was exhausted of this war going on between his family and the Kim one. He no longer wanted to participate in the pointless fights. He no longer wished to see another vampire fallen victim to the vicious werewolves. He had no idea how it had all started so it seemed completely devoid of meaning to him. Wonwoo wished he could find a way to put an end to it. Once and for all. And just then, as if some magic force had heard his plea, a piece of paper fell into his hand. From the sky. Right there on a balcony in summer air. He was stunned but nevertheless, he read the words written on it, which said:

What you seek you shall receive Go to the golden mountain If you wish your heart to grow Be prepared a sacrifice to give Drink from the magical fountain May all bad blood cease to flow

At the same time but in a different place, a twin paper landed in Mingyu's tent. It was cryptic as hell and it might as well have been a trap. It might be something that the Jeons, those smartasses came up with to cause more damage to the Kims. And yet, he was in such need for peace that he wanted to try whatever it took to find a solution that would ensure a tranquil future for him and his family. He put a couple of snacks in a bag, a few bottles of water and went out into the night.

Wonwoo did a similar thing, gathered a bunch of essentials, only he was caught by his younger brother and sister.

"Where are you going, hyung?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah, you're acting suspicious!" Somi exclaimed.

"I'm going on an adventure," Wonwoo said simply.

"Take us with you, oppa!" Somi pleaded.

"I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous," Wonwoo was firm in his decision.

"Promise you'll come back!" Jungkook insisted.

Wonwoo knew he shouldn't make promises he wasn't sure he could keep. But he owed it to his precious siblings to reassure them that everything will be okay.

"Promise," he said and walked out of the door.

A couple of hours later, Mingyu found himself in the golden mountain. He could immediately sense something was wrong. It smelled like…death and decay. He sniffed aggressively into the air and seconds later he found himself pressed against a tree. By a stinky vampire!

"What are you doing here, Kim?" Wonwoo asked him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Jeon!" Mingyu growled. He tried to transform himself into his werewolf form and yet there must have been some sort of magic inside the golden mountain that prevented him from doing so. His suspicions were proven to be correct when he managed to escape from the vampire's grasp. Aha! He was slower than usual. Which meant he couldn't use his vampire speed around here.

"How…" Wonwoo was shocked by how quickly the werewolf had fled. "Why are you running?"

"Because you wanna drink my blood!" Mingyu screamed as he kept going.

"No, wait…I just wanna talk!"

"Yeah, right, and fish can fly!"

"Some can actually!" Wonwoo pointed out.

"Nerd!" Mingyu cried out and then he saw a big light in the air that said the exact same words in the paper! What even?! Something compelled him to stop running and moments later, Wonwoo hit his nose into the back of Mingyu's neck.

"Ow," he complained, taken aback by the fact that Mingyu was no longer trying to escape. "No way!" he had a similar reaction to Mingyu's upon seeing the mysterious words.

"Wait a second…" Mingyu started connecting the dots. "Don't tell me you received one of those as well."

He was probably taking a huge leap of faith but something was telling him that if the vampire wanted him dead, he would be dead already. Mingyu took out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo's eyes widened in shock and he pulled out an identical-looking paper from his own clothes.

"What are the odds?" Wonwoo laughed bitterly.

"So…if we both want peace between our families, then I suppose we should work together," Mingyu offered sweetly.

"We might not have another choice," Wonwoo nodded reluctantly. "I'm Wonwoo, by the way."

"Mingyu. I would say nice to meet you but I'm not fond of lying," he tried to joke.

Wonwoo shook his head, amused by this encounter.

Seconds later, the sign in the air disappeared. In its stead was a golden door. Seemingly leading nowhere. Right in the middle of the mountain. How strange.

"Shall we?" Wonwoo suggested.

"Vampires first," Mingyu gallantly waved his hand.

Wonwoo didn't want to waste energy in arguing and opened the door. Mingyu followed him and the two were immediately greeted by the most beautiful creature they'd ever seen.

"Welcome!" you said. "If you've come this far, it means you've already taken the first step towards peace."

"Who are you?" Wonwoo asked.

"My name is Y/N. I'm a witch and it is my purpose to guide you through the seven challenges you must face if you wish to bring peace to your families."

"What kinds of challenges?" Mingyu inquired, suspicious of this whole situation.

"Well, it wouldn't be fun if I told you now, would it?" you chuckled mysteriously.

"How do we know we just won't get killed or something?" Wonwoo insisted.

"You don't. Guess you'll just have to believe that the possibility for a better future is strong enough to get you through these challenges," you explained patiently.

"Did you come up with these challenges?" Wonwoo wanted to know.

"So many questions," you laughed once again. "No, my ancestors did, I'm just a carrier of their will. Here's what I'll tell you. If you work together, you have a very good chance at succeeding."

"Not very reassuring," Mingyu complained.

"Still better than no chance," Wonwoo sighed.

"And if you complete the first six challenges successfully," you continued. "I will help you with the seventh one."

"I'm assuming the seventh one is the hardest," Wonwoo muttered.

"Clever boy," you smirked. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," Mingyu shrugged. "But let's do this."

"Well, good luck, guys. I'll give you a hint for the first challenge. If I eat I live yet if I drink I die. What am I?"

"Huh?" Mingyu looked at Wonwoo in a confused manner. "Any idea what this means?"

"No, but I don't like the sound of it."

You disappeared and in front of the two men, a wall of fire appeared. Great, so the hint was fire.

"So we just have to jump above it. It's not very tall," Mingyu observed.

"No, Mingyu, you don't get it," Wonwoo responded. "I will literally turn into ash if the fire touches me. I'm a vampire, remember?"

"Right," Mingyu nodded. "Well, then, hop on my back and I'll jump. I'm tall enough and I'll make sure the fire doesn't touch you."

Wonwoo shook his head hesitantly.

"I don't know…"

"Do you trust me?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Smart answer," Mingyu grinned. "But do you want peace or not?"

"More than anything," Wonwoo replied.

"Then, hop on."

Wonwoo did as Mingyu suggested and closed his eyes. In no time, the werewolf jumped and the fire was behind the two. Wonwoo opened his eyes and got off Mingyu's strong back. You had returned.

"Congratulations, you have completed the first challenge!" you greeted them cheerfully. "Keep up the good work and peace shall be yours soon."

"Well, that was easy enough," Mingyu smiled confidently.

"Easy for you to say," Wonwoo shuddered at the thought of fire.

"Do you guys want a hint for the second challenge?"

"Yes, please," Mingyu asked, guessing that since the first one was something dangerous for Wonwoo, then the second one would, logically, be something lethal for Mingyu.

"This is a type of color But it’s not yellow or blue You’ll need this type of bullet If a werewolf’s after you," you recited dutifully.

The answer was glaringly obvious. Silver.

"No," Mingyu groaned in fear as you vanished once again. The two somehow ended up in a room. There was only one way out and forward - a door at the end of the room. And in front of the door was a machine designed to shoot silver arrows. How fun. "What are we going to do?"

"Let me think," Wonwoo tried to analyze the situation in a way that would ensure Mingyu's safety. "If I run on zig-zag with you glued behind me, we might be fast enough to go behind the machine and open the door."

"But the arrows could shoot you?" Mingyu gasped in horror.

"I think they won't. The first challenge was designed to scare me and the second challenge is designed for you."

"It's very risky."

"Well, we can't let that stop us."

"Let's do this."

The two began running and surprisingly, the machine started shooting arrows their way. However, it was only capable of doing so in a straight direction, so it didn't manage to hit them once. With some great luck, Wonwoo and Mingyu squeezed themselves behind the machine. Yet, Mingyu was too impatient to grab the door handle, which, was, of course, made of silver. It burned his hand pretty badly but it wasn't lethal like arrows or even worse, bullets, would have been. Wonwoo immediately opened the door and pulled Mingyu with him to the other side.

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo asked, overwhelmed by a sudden concern for his werewolf companion.

"It hurts but I'll be fine," Mingyu tried to convince himself as well as Wonwoo.

Wonwoo quickly bit his own finger until a small streak of blood appeared.

"Drink this, it will help you heal faster."

Mingyu looked at Wonwoo doubtfully but went ahead. In no time, the burns disappeared and his hand no longer hurt.

"Wow, thanks a lot!"

"Thank me when we've completed all challenges," Wonwoo puts his hand on Mingyu's shoulder in a friendly manner.

You once again surprised them with your sudden arrival.

"Two in a row! You're really something else," you cheered them on loudly. "I was about to offer some healing herbs but the vampire beat me to it."

Wonwoo bowed dramatically, making Mingyu and you laugh.

"I won't ask whether you need a hint, because I'm feeling generous. I’m often running, yet I have no legs. You need me, but I don’t need you. What am I?"

"Ugh, another riddle," Mingyu was so done with them.

In front of the two men appeared a table. On the table, there were two cups filled with some kind of liquid. Next to the cups was a note:

"One may kill a vampire. Another may kill a werewolf. Drink all to move forward. Drink none to stay behind."

"I'm guessing one has vervain and the other wolfsbane. We drink the wrong cup, we both die. We drink the right one, we go to the next challenge," Mingyu started thinking out loud.

"What if I drink both cups?" Wonwoo suggested boldly. "That way I can ensure that you will move forward."

"Are you crazy?" Mingyu exclaimed. "First of all, there is no guarantee the witch will allow me to do the rest of the challenges by myself. Second of all, there is no guarantee I will succeed without you. Third of all…I don't wanna do this alone."

Mingyu sounded so vulnerable and like a lost puppy in that moment that Wonwoo felt so bad he cursed himself for offering something so dark in the first place.

"You're right, sorry I mentioned it. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Let's think about the riddle instead of rushing to poison ourselves," Mingyu replied. "I'm often running, yet I have no legs. You need me, but I don't need you…"

"But of course!" Wonwoo shouted triumphantly. "Water! It's just a trick, Mingyu. There is nothing but water in both cups!"

Mingyu eyed the two cups suspiciously.

"They don't smell like anything," he pointed out.

"Do you trust me?" Wonwoo repeated Mingyu's question from earlier.

"Not even a little bit," Mingyu teased. Even though a part of him was beginning to…

"Great. Drink up."

"Oh, what the hell." Mingyu and Wonwoo both grabbed a cup at random and downed them in one go. Nothing. No burn. No pain. No death. Just plain old water.

They both let out a sigh of relief and started laughing.

"We did it! We passed the third challenge!" they grabbed each other's hands happily and started jumping in circles.

You appeared yet again to congratulate them.

"You two are so smart, I'm genuinely impressed!"

Wonwoo and Mingyu let go of one another's hands, as if embarrassed that the witch witnessed a vampire and a werewolf behaving like this.

"How about a little break?" you offered.

"Not another challenge?

"Nope. Just a small something to reward you for getting so far."

Mingyu and Wonwoo exchanged a look.

"How do you plan to reward us?" Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"What would you like?" you smiled mischievously.

"Something more useful than those riddles," Mingyu asked.

"Okay, okay, no more riddles. Wonwoo?"

"Help us in the sixth challenge, as well. Not just the seventh one."

"Ambitious. I like that. Alright, then. Make sure you pass the fourth and fifth and I will give you a real advantage in the grand finale. Now, how about a snack to gather your strength?" you said and handed Mingyu a couple of big, juicy hamburgers. The werewolf gulped the first one hungrily.

"I'm a vampire, this is like plastic to me," Wonwoo complained.

"I know, silly," you chuckled and offered your wrist. "Come on, help yourself."

"How do I know it's not a trick?"

"Why would it be a trick?" you blinked at him innocently. "Mingyu already ate his burger and he's still safe."

"It's just a burger. I don't think the blood of a witch has the same value."

"Aw, I'm touched," you cooed. "Fine, suit yourself, then. Starve if you want."

Wonwoo shook his head, determined to reject the temptation.

"I'm not hungry."

Your smile suddenly transformed into a quite sinister one.

"Good. You just passed the fourth challenge."

"W-what?" Mingyu, who'd just swallowed the last bite of the third burger, asked in shock. "But…we didn't do anything, did we?"

"Wonwoo did," you explained. "The virtue of restraint is incredibly rare among vampires nowadays. Him rejecting my blood so easily shows that he is truly determined to achieve peace."

"But…me eating the burgers is okay, right?" Mingyu kept worrying.

"It's okay, Mingyu, don't worry," you laughed. "Still, previous participants never made it this far."

"Wait…we're not the first ones?" Wonwoo was shocked. "Others from our clans have tried these challenges before?"

"Of course. They all failed, though. These challenges are held once every seven years. Since…since the feud between your two families began."

"But…why?" Mingyu asked.

"I'll tell you if you make it to the end."

"Is the fifth challenge a hidden one like the fourth? I mean…you said we were having a short break, I didn't even know it was a test," Wonwoo complained.

"You asked for no more riddles. You didn't say anything about tricks," you pouted, the picture of blamelessness.

"Witches, man," Mingyu murmured, causing Wonwoo to smile. You didn't look offended by these words, considering the circumstances. Still, you were just doing your job, so you refused to feel bad for it. Besides, you genuinely believed that your actions would help them succeed. You wanted peace just as badly. For your own reasons.

Suddenly, the full moon shone brightly in the sky.

"Oh, come on," Mingyu groaned, as he felt overpowered by his transformation into his wolf form. It was more painful than usual and he experienced such intense anger towards everyone and everything. He wanted to ravage the vampire and the witch. Consequences be damned.

"Control it, Mingyu," Wonwoo tried to calm him down as he saw the werewolf approaching him and you like a predator stalking his prey. "It's just another trick. You have to show restraint, like I did. We're so close to success, don't give up now."

"You know what they say. A wolf can change his coat but not his character," you laughed maniacally.

"Stop goading him!" Wonwoo reprimanded you. "Mingyu. Remember why we're here. Remember what we both want. Peace."

It was like that one short magical word unlocked something inside the werewolf. His eyes that were full of rage seconds ago became full of warmth, kindness and hope. And in no time, Mingyu was back in his human form.

"Peace," he repeated, shivering, as the poor guy was naked after returning to his humanity.

You snapped your fingers and by magic, his clothes were back on him.

"Astonishing. I've never witnessed anything like this before," you were truly amazed by their willpower.

"I take it the fifth challenge was a success?" Mingyu wanted to make sure.

"Not only a success. It was your golden ticket to the grand finale," you beamed with excitement.

"So, what is the sixth challenge?" Wonwoo inquired.

"You'll have to fight each other. The winner gets to move forward to the seventh challenge."

"Excuse me?" Mingyu cried out indignantly. "We didn't go this far only to end up hurting one another, we're supposed to go through these challenges together!"

"You promised you'll help us!" Wonwoo was also flabbergasted by the turn of events.

"And I will, relax. I'll give you a hint. The challenge requires you to fight. That's all it says. Nothing about killing," you winked and once again disappeared.

"Damn, she's got to stop doing that," Mingyu complained. "So cryptic."

Wonwoo laughed quietly.

"I don't wanna wolf out on you," Mingyu confessed.

"And I don't wanna suck you dry," Wonwoo responded.

"So what now? How do we fight each other without harm? How do we decide on a winner to go to the final challenge?" Mingyu was panicking as he couldn't seem to find a solution.

"Look, there's the table from the cups of water challenge!" Wonwoo observed, surprised by its return.

"But of course!" Mingyu exclaimed. "We can arm wrestle. A fight without killing."

"You're a genius! Just don't break my arm, alright?" Wonwoo smiled.

"No promises," Mingyu teased and the two knelt on two sides of the table. Mingyu easily defeated Wonwoo and then they were confused that nothing was happening. No seventh challenge.

"Maybe we're both meant to win to move forward?" Wonwoo suggested. "Like you said, these challenges ought to be done together for true peace to be achieved."

"Oh! Right!" Mingyu took hold of Wonwoo's hand once again, not putting any strength into his grasp this time. "Go easy on me, night kitten."

"Right back at you, moon puppy," Wonwoo teased back and as Mingyu allowed himself to be defeated, a large sign lit up the sky, announcing the beginning of the seventh challenge.

"Grand finale, here we come," Mingyu declared in amazement that they'd gotten this far.

You greeted them as enthusiastically as ever:

"It truly is a wonder you made it to the seventh challenge, I can't believe the peace between your families is so close."

"It's too early to celebrate," Wonwoo, ever the realist, observed. "The final one is the hardest, no?"

"Yes, but I intend to keep my promise and give you a strong advantage. As it was hinted at in the piece of paper you received, you have to be prepared for a sacrifice. Only that will put an end to the bad blood between the Kims and the Jeons."

"What kind of sacrifice?" Mingyu asked, already anticipating the worst.

"A blood one," you stated grimly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Wonwoo rolled his eyes.

"We don't want to kill each other, I thought it was clear we came here looking for peace!" Mingyu cried out.

"I know you grew attached to one another throughout the course of these challenges," you nodded morosely. "However, the prophecy doesn't specify who has to be sacrificed. You…you can kill me, instead."

You gently placed two daggers in their hands.

Wonwoo and Mingyu were beyond appalled by your suggestion.

"But…you're just doing your job," Wonwoo murmured. "Why would we kill you when you helped us get this far?"

"Yeah, I'm with Wonwoo," Mingyu was adamant. "You didn't do anything wrong to us. There has to be another way."

"It's the only way," you announced, your eyes tearing up. "If you don't do this, you'll fail the seventh challenge and you'll be automatically turned into ash like all the previous participants were when they couldn't pass one of the challenges. Don't you want peace more than anything? I'm not important, just one life that could potentially save the lives of many vampires and werewolves. Is this not why you came here?"

Mingyu and Wonwoo looked at each other, weighing out the pros and cons. The witch's point was a solid one. But was it really worth it? They would have to endure the rest of their lives haunted by what they'd done…Was it really peace if it was marred with innocent blood?

"I'm not doing it," Wonwoo decided and dropped the dagger.

"Yeah, me neither," Mingyu agreed and let go of the weapon.

"Even if you die instead by the design of these challenges?" you were amazed by their willingness to sacrifice themselves, to abandon their cause just to save her - a witch they'd just met.

"Even so," Wonwoo confirmed his previous decision.

"How much time do we have?" Mingyu wanted to know.

"I don't know. Like I said, no one's ever gotten this far," you admitted.

"Can't we try something else? These challenges were full of loopholes and tricks and whatnot. Maybe another kind of sacrifice?" Wonwoo kept trying to think of a way out.

"I've got some snacks in my bag? And water?" Mingyu suggested.

"I'm pretty sure my ancestors would not be satisfied with snacks," you chuckled bitterly.

"Be prepared a sacrifice to give Drink from the magical fountain May all bad blood cease to flow…" Wonwoo repeated the last lines of the prophecy.

"We did drink from cups of water but there was no magical fountain so far," Mingyu mused out loud.

"That's true," you replied. "And there's the sacrifice and blood part…maybe I'm reading this all wrong."

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo was desperate to hold onto any piece of hope.

You grabbed one of the daggers from the ground.

"Give me your hands," you urged them.

"Erm…" Mingyu eyed you with suspicion.

"Quick, I'm not sure how much time we have left," your eyes were telling them that you genuinely wanted to help.

Wonwoo took a leap of faith and gave you his hand. You pressed the blade into his skin until blood started pouring out and soaked the earth beneath you. Mingyu figured he had nothing left to lose as he might be dead very soon and also offered his hand. You did the same thing with him. And finally, you cut your own skin. As the blood of a vampire, a werewolf and a witch started drenching the soil in the golden mountain, the three creatures witnessed something they hadn't expected. The blood started turning into water and soon enough a small fountain emerged in front of their eyes.

"The magical fountain!" Wonwoo exclaimed.

"Hurry, we have to drink from it!" you rushed them, the prophecy finally being fulfilled.

The three beings took turns taking sips of water and their bloodied hands were healed in no time.

"Does this mean we succeeded? We passed the seventh challenge and peace will reign between our families?" Mingyu was curious to know.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," you shrugged mysteriously. "Go back home and see for yourselves."

"You promised us something," Wonwoo reminded you. "You said you'd tell us why the feud began in the first place if we make it to the end. Here we are."

"Clever boy," you once again said the words from your very first encounter. "It's a long story, though. You sure you don't wanna check up on your families first?"

"Don't try to weasel your way out of this," Mingyu warned. "We want answers. We've spent long enough living in the dark."

"Nicely put," you laughed. "Very well, then. But first, let us sit down."

The three creatures sat in the grass and so, you began telling the story of how the Kims and the Jeons had started resenting each other.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful witch named Yunchae. She was not only as elegant as a flower but was also smart and kind and her whole family adored her. Tales of her beauty reached the vampire and werewolf families. Haneul the vampire and Kwang the werewolf fell madly in love with her. Yunchae, being so sweet, began spending time with both of them separately. She was unaware of dangers such as jealousy and genuinely considered both of them her lifelong companions. One thing led to another and friendship blossomed into love. One dark night, when there was a full moon, Kwang the werewolf wanted to surprise Yunchae so he came into her chambers earlier than the appointed hour. When he saw her embracing Haneul the vampire, Kwang, affected by the curse of the moon, was overwhelmed with wild rage and possessiveness. In his anger, he ended up tearing Haneul apart. The vampire had been caught unprepared and could not defend himself. Yunchae, in her grief, stabbed herself to death. Kwang, upon seeing his beloved lying cold and shaken by the consequences of his actions, could not accept the reality and threw himself off the tower where Yunchae lived. Upon hearing about the tragic turn of events, Haneul's family and Kwang's family began blaming each other. Yunchae's family was so distraught by the loss of their precious flower that they cursed the Jeons and the Kims to be in constant war unless representatives of the two families desired peace so strongly they were ready to risk their own lives. And here we are."

Wonwoo and Mingyu were silent for a while, trying to think of what to say. The story was so tragic but Mingyu wanted to lighten the mood.

"They were so stupid. Why couldn't they just have a threesome and call it a day?"

"Mingyu!" Wonwoo scolded the werewolf for his slightly inappropriate joke.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Anyhow, this is all in the past. The curse should be lifted by now. I wish you all a peaceful life."

And with that, you vanished into thin air.

"Seriously, when will she stop doing that?" Mingyu groaned.

"She just did. Do you think we'll see her again?" Wonwoo was doubtful but had to voice his concerns.

"Who knows? Maybe we were all meant to find each other."

Mingyu and Wonwoo returned to their homes and they were relieved to find how things have changed. As if by magic. The werewolf Taehyung was freely chatting with the vampire Jungkook. The vampire Somi was holding hands with the werewolf Dahyun. Peace truly reigned between the Kims and the Jeons. Whenever Wonwoo or Mingyu brought up the issue of the past, everyone reacted with surprise. As if there was never any feud. It turned out only the two winners of the seven challenges and the witch who'd helped them get this far remembered the truth about the history of the three families.

Time passed and Mingyu found himself wanting to see you and Wonwoo again. Though dangerous, that one night he spent in the golden mountain was the most magical memory he had and he couldn't stop replaying it in his head. He wondered if Wonwoo felt the same way. Now that peace was established between the Kims and the Jeons, Mingyu could easily go to the castle where Wonwoo lived and ask him to hang out and maybe accompany him to the golden mountain in the hopes that they would find you somehow. Since the challenges were over, he had no idea whether you would still be there or whether you lived somewhere else, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Hey! Psst!" Mingyu started throwing little rocks at Wonwoo's window in the middle of the night. He could smell him from a mile away.

"What the heck, Mingyu?" Wonwoo exclaimed in surprise as he came out on the balcony. "It's 1am!"

"I thought vampires didn't sleep!" Mingyu pointed out.

"We don't but I lost a very important game because of you," Wonwoo complained.

"Oh, boo-hoo. What I came here for is much more important," Mingyu insisted.

"What is it? Don't tell me there are problems between our families again…" Wonwoo whispered, worried that something bad had happened.

"What? No, everything is fine. I just wanted to see you…" Mingyu confessed nervously. "And ask if you wanted to find Y/N again. Go on another adventure in the golden mountain."

"Huh? But why? We passed all the challenges. Why would we go back there?"

"Because…I can't stop thinking about that one night. If it's just me, I'll leave you alone and go by myself. But if a part of you, even a small one, feels the same…then, please, come with me, night kitten," Mingyu begged, his eyes wide and moist with unshed tears.

Wonwoo didn't want to admit it but he knew exactly what Mingyu was talking about. His no longer beating heart was warm all of a sudden and he couldn't bear the thought of rejecting Mingyu's tempting offer. Still, he tried to play it cool.

"Whatever, moon puppy. Wait for me down there," Wonwoo said and hurried out.

When he faced the werewolf outside, Mingyu attacked him with a tight hug.

"I knew it, I knew it!" Mingyu squealed happily. "I knew you'd come! We're gonna have so much fun!"

"Gee, alright, relax," Wonwoo muttered but deep down, he was overjoyed to receive so much affection from his…what were they? Once enemies but during the challenges, they had become allies, something like companions. But now that there was peace, what label could he put on their strange…was it friendship? Before he could come up with an answer, Mingyu grabbed his hand and led the way towards the golden mountain. Wonwoo couldn't bring himself to push him away. He wondered why…

As they arrived at their destination, they started calling your name but to no avail. With the challenges over, it was logical to assume that you went somewhere else. They should have asked you where witches lived before you'd vanished in that typical but super frustrating way of yours.

"What do we do?" Mingyu asked. "Should we summon her somehow?"

"She's not a demon," Wonwoo chuckled. "Do you know any other witches?"

"Nope. You?"

"No. How can we possibly find her?" Wonwoo sat down and touched the ground with his hand. Mingyu mirrored his movements. And as if the earth beneath them recognized them, flowers started growing and glowing in the dark!

"Wow!" Mingyu was in a state of disbelief.

"Incredible," Wonwoo stated and as the picture before them transformed into an image out of their wildest dreams, they finally heard a familiar voice.

"Looking for me, fellas?" you asked.

"Y/N!" Mingyu grinned happily and rushed into your arms. Wonwoo was more reserved…for now.

"Hello there, big puppy," you laughed affectionately. "What brings you here? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise."

"No, actually, we just wanted to see you," Mingyu admitted.

"Why didn't you show up rightaway when we called your name?" Wonwoo inquired bitterly.

"Hello to you, too, Wonwoo," you shook your head, scolding his manners. "How have you been? Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Hi," Wonwoo corrected himself curtly. "Now tell me."

"I couldn't hear you, so to speak. However, most witches are linked to the earth and your touch sent a signal to me. Does that answer your question?"

Wonwoo nodded but didn't press the matter further.

"Where do you live? How can we find you more easily next time? What do you do now that the challenges are over?" Mingyu started bombarding you with more questions.

"Whoa, there, relax, Gyu. Let's just say I know a place that can give you answers."

"Lead the way!" Mingyu replied enthusiastically as you took hold of his hand.

Wonwoo stood there for a couple of moments, thinking.

"You coming?" you wanted to find out.

Wonwoo followed you wordlessly. Something was off about him and you intended to find out what pretty soon.

You showed them where you lived - in a small cottage near a beautiful lake. You told them that they could come visit whenever they felt like it and Mingyu offered that you also come to the werewolves' camp sometime. Now that the challenges were completed, you spent your days creating spells and gathering herbs. It was peaceful and you couldn't ask for more. Or so you thought. As the three of you explored the golden mountain, you felt closer to the werewolf and the vampire than during the challenges and enjoyed the time spent together more than anything. You could tell that Mingyu felt the same way as he was very cuddly and clingy. Wonwoo, however, was more difficult to read. As morning was nearing and you were all exhausted from your late-night adventures, the three of you ended up sitting in the grass. You and Mingyu ate some sandwiches, while poor Wonwoo starved. You offered him your blood (no tricks this time), but he refused. In your defense, he said he wasn't hungry. Mingyu fell asleep with his head in your lap, so you took this opportunity to ask Wonwoo what was up with him.

"Why are you so cold?" you confronted him directly.

"I'm a vampire?" Wonwoo reminded you needlessly.

"Not literally, you dumbass. During the challenges, you were different. What changed?"

"I know the whole truth now."

"What are you referring to?"

"I'm scared, okay?" Wonwoo admitted. "What if…history repeats itself? What if both Mingyu and I fall in love with you and we all end up hurting each other? What if this peace we fought so hard for is fragile and gets destroyed quickly?"

"It won't, I promised you," you reached out and held Wonwoo's hand gently.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because…we're here now and we're happier than ever. And besides, if we fall in love, we can do like Mingyu suggested our ancestors should have done," you joked.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Wonwoo rolles his eyes.

"I'm serious, though. Would you kill Mingyu if he fell for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, he's my...friend," Wonwoo confessed, surprising himself.

"Do you think Mingyu would kill you if you…if you felt the same?" you kept up with the hypothetical questions, even though it all seemed very real.

"He managed to control himself pretty well during the full moon challenge, so, no, I don't think he would."

"Would I kill you? If you two fell in love with each other?" you teased.

"I don't know. Would you?"

"Of course not, my sweet vampire friend," you chuckled.

"Good. Then, I guess my fears were unjustified," Wonwoo felt more at ease.

"Yay! So, threesome?" Mingyu suddenly joined the conversation.

"Mingyu!" you exclaimed.

"Hey! I thought you were sleeping!" Wonwoo was taken aback.

"I was, but I kept having dreams about you two. Must have been because you were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Are we so transparent?" you groaned.

"Nah, it's just that I'm irresistible. Witches and vampires alike can't stop thinking about my puppy charms," Mingyu kept talking.

You leaned down to kiss him to shut him up. Then, you reached out to Wonwoo and gave him a kiss, as well. The werewolf, no longer in the mood to sleep, also embraced the vampire and touched his lips with his own.

"The sun will rise soon," Wonwoo observed sadly. "I have to go unless I want to turn into ash."

"The rules don't apply in the golden mountain. You're safe here," you explained. "You can stay as long you wish and leave when it's dark."

"How about the moon?" Mingyu was curious. "Why did it affect me if the rules don't apply?"

"It was just an illusion designed by my ancestors as part of the challenges. If you were here in the golden mountain during a full moon, you wouldn't have to transform anymore."

"Pretty convenient way to get us to stay, don't you think?" Wonwoo eyed you suspiciously.

"Mm, but don't take advantage of my hospitality. I'm totally coming over to check out your castle next time!"

"How did you know I live in a castle?!" Wonwoo was shocked.

"A witch never kisses and tells," you winked and disappeared.

"Man, not again!" Mingyu complained loudly.

"Just kidding," you came back and rushed into their arms.

The End

#seventeen #mingyu #wonwoo #minwon #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #adventure #fantasy #romance #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x wonwoo #seventeen x reader #writing

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the-atlas-sister · 7 months

Text

Iᖴ OᑎᒪY ᖴOᖇ YOᑌ (ᗩᗪᑌᒪT!ᗰEGᑌᗰI ᙭ ᗩᖴᗩᗷ!ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ)

Warnings!: Rotten, rotten fluff, slight suggestive themes, poverty ig?

***

"Excuse me?"

Your eyes go wide as you stare at your employer. Well... previous employer.

"I'm sorry Y/n, but we can't afford to keep you on anymore," she said, giving you that stupid, pathetic, pitiful smile. "You know how much you've done for our company but we need more experienced employees.

"More experienced?" you asked softly, still in shock from the words.

"Older," the woman corrected, straightening out a stack of papers on her desk. "You're just too young and we can't afford to keep you on our team Y/n."

"I don't understand," you mumbled, shaking your head lightly. "I've been a part of your business since I graduated, that's two years. I've worked diligently, never asked for a raise in pay and the families love me."

"I'm sorry, we just can't afford you," she repeated.

Your eyes went wide. That was it? They couldn't afford you?

"I'll need your desk packed up by the hour," she stated, standing from her desk and walking around you. "You understand, don't you?"

You stared blankly at your hands, the small ring on your finger shining almost mockingly.

The woman looked over your shoulder at the ring. "You just got engaged right? We'll send you a gift, almost like a thank you for all your work."

***

You stared blankly at the cement sidewalk as you walked, your previous employer's words echoing in your head.

You just got engaged right? We'll send you a gift, almost like a thank you for all your work.

They can afford to send you a gift, but not to employ you. Bullshit. You sighed softly, approaching the dingy apartment building you and your fiance lived in. You slowly made your way up the stairs until you reached your apartment. You fished for the keys in your purse, fumbling with them.

"Fuck," you swore as your keys fell to the floor. You groaned, putting down your box full of things from your office and grabbing your keys once more. You unlocked the door and kicked it open, dragging the box in behind you.

"Megumi!" you called, kicking the box into the corner and throwing the keys on the table. "I have some bad news..."

You looked up from the table, furrowing your brows at the lack of response from your fiance. "Megs?" you asked, wandering into your shared bedroom. You looked around, confused about where he could have been.

You notice a small sticky note at the edge of the neatly made bed. You slowly approached the bed, picking the note up.

Meet me at **** **St ****

-Megumi

"Hm," you hummed, flipping the note over. That was it, an address and nothing else. "Weird," you mumbled.

***

"Are you serious?" you mumbled to yourself as you approached a large old house. It had yellow chipping paint and a crumbling roof. Despite the crumbling appearance and obvious decay, it was beautiful. The overgrown greenery and small fountains and bridge leading to the front door only added to the romance of it.

You carefully walked across the small stone bridge to the open front door. You walked in quietly, looking around the building. The entrance room was large and the noise of dripping water filled your ears. Fairy lights hung from the rafters and a few small candles lined the large flight of stairs in the middle of the room.

"Oh my god," you whispered, approaching the staircase.

"You like it?"

You turned around to find Megumi standing in the doorway with a small but shy smile on his face. You let out a small sigh, making his eyes go wide.

"Just hear me out, okay?" he said quickly, approaching you and holding your hands. "Just imagine pictures all through the halls, and- and a big chandelier, right there." He guided you to the middle of the main room, pointing at a large hole in the ceiling. "And- and we could add a library or your very own office." You looked around the house with an awestruck expression. You felt him wrap his arms around your waist and his hands gripping your hips. "Imagine it, just me and you make our mark on every inch of this house," his voice low and suggestive in your ear.

"Did you buy this house?" you whispered, gazing at Megumi with wide eyes.

"I did," Megumi said shyly. "I figured we needed somewhere new to start our new life together." He gripped your hands softly, looking down at you with a smile.

You felt tears well in your eyes, guilt building in the pit of your stomach at the way he gazed lovingly down at you. "I got fired," you whispered, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. "I'm sorry Megs." You sniffed and wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Don't apologize," Megumi cooed, cupping your cheeks and gently wiping away your tears. "It's okay, it's okay." He pressed his forehead against your own softly. "You'll get another job, I'll get a second job, we'll... ask Gojo for money if we need to." He grimaced at the idea of asking his guardian for money.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his disgusted face. "You hate asking Gojo for things," you chuckled.

Megumi smiled softly at your laugh. "I do, yes, but if that's what we need to do to make our dream come true, I'll do it," he said gently. "I'd do anything to make them come true."

"I love you," you whispered, leaning forward and kissing his lips.

"I love you more," he whispered back against your lips.

Tags: elementalbear angrysmolbean kissmartinazz riaki star-toruu takashisbride baaka-asta neme-mimi my-loved-figure-skates baekinola crescentworld vivizsantiegoni10061999 whoskari furrydamm icedemon1314 mostusernamefr itsbabysposts fushigurosdevinedogs cottoncr3 crestoa wonderbat385 mikas-souls firstplaidpeachnickel

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bookshelf-in-progress · 7 days

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A Garden of Wishes: A Retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, save one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer—but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters—eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice—laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are all more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are all wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men—strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes. They have skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their quest.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or they would know that not one of you is capable of the crimes they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure—you have never seen me—but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant they would give me anything I desired.

For myself, I want nothing—wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted—but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow invisibly wherever you go.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery—silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an wooden door that Aria opens to reveal a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen.

I rush past where Aria holds the door, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too near your skirt. The fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and your sisters continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me—right through me—a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing fiery rainbows.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising—as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence—a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty expectations of the watchful world.

But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude—the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake—so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors. Light from within forms a shining path across the lake, upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret—or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own—but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill—I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life—but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine—floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to half a nation.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing—vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river. The moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order. All along the edges of that room are other faces—other princes who've failed at your father's quest—and they all take their turn in the dance.

If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonatina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, your prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-spangled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender silver branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps—though it might only be fancy—I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am—a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would bar her from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found. Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

Golden sunlight streams down upon a freshly-turned flower bed. I am soaked with sweat and crusted with dirt as I shovel mulch around newly-planted seedlings. I can imagine no scene less like the moonlit enchantment of your jeweled forests and wondrous dances. Even you, when you come into the garden, are nothing like you were last night. Your golden brown hair is unruly, your dress is hastily done-up, and instead of floating with ethereal grace, you storm toward me like an angry warrior goddess.

Only the branch, silver-spangled, is the same as it was last night, when you brandish it beneath my nose.

"Garden boy, where did this branch come from?" you demand.

Your eyes blaze and your golden curls flash in the sun. I could cast myself at your feet in devotion.

I keep my countenance blank and my eyes downcast—the dutiful, lowly servant. "Your highness knows better than I," I reply.

"You have followed us!" you hiss.

I raise my head to meet your gaze. It is a wonder I am not struck dead by your fury. "Yes, your highness."

"How? I saw no one."

"I hid myself."

"It is impossible. I don't believe it."

"Believe as you like," I say. "You will still hold the branch."

You scramble to grasp something at your belt, and you throw a sack full of gold at my feet. "Keep your silence, and you will have this and more besides."

I stare at the bag of gold—more than I could earn with a year's labor—and my heart sinks like a stone. This is what I am to you. Not a man of honor, whose heart and reason can be trusted, but a common blackmailer whose silence can be purchased for a price.

"I will not be bought," I say, and when your face goes white, I add gently, "You have nothing to fear from me."

It is only after dark that it strikes me I may have something to fear from you. I have vowed my silence, but you have said nothing about yours. The secret encompasses your sisters and nearly two dozen princes. What would they be willing to do to ensure my silence?

Though the thought shames me, I cannot vanquish the fear. I must know more about you royals and your hidden world—and I long to spend just one more night in that palace of enchantment. I take the pale rose from its cup on my washstand, place it in my buttonhole, and make my way invisibly to your room.

You and your sisters are already dressed for the evening when I make my way among you. You are pale, and quieter than you were last evening, but none of your sisters remark upon it. I follow you down the staircase, through the forest, and to another wondrous dance. I can tell you are watching for me, but none of your sisters join in the search. They and all the princes laugh and dance as usual. At midnight, you dine upon a feast of impossible delicacies, and though the conversation is steady and quick-witted, none of you makes the least mention of me or the secret I know.

As dawn nears, I take my place in the rear of the boat that you ride in with your prince. Tonight, it is he who comments on the unexpected weight of the boat he steers.

My heart stops. Now you will tell him of my spying, and since there are few places to hide in a small boat, like as not I will be pitched headlong into that bottomless lake.

Your answer lifts my heart like the arrival of the long-awaited dawn. You take up a second oar and say to your prince, "It feels light to me."

The wonder of your defense of me makes me love you more than ever. I all but float behind you as you make your way through the jeweled forests.

In the golden orchards, I stumble and snap off a branch. I hide it against my invisible clothes, just a moment before your sister Melody looks toward where I stand.

"What was that sound?" she asks in fright.

"Only an owl," you answer quickly.

Though you do not know it, you meet my eyes. I bow my head in thanks.

The next morning, the golden-spattered branch I place in your bouquet is a gift of thanks—and an expression of trust.

When you storm toward me in the gardens the next morning, the golden branch quivers in your iron grip.

"What is it you want?" you ask. "You won't take gold. Do you plan to win yourself a princess, garden boy?"

"I do not plan to take a wife," I say. "When I wed, it must be to a woman whose love is freely given."

"Then why did you follow us?"

"I had to know if I could trust you. I now know that I can." I pluck an ordinary blossom from a nearby rose bush. I focus on its petals so I do not have to take the daring step of meeting your gaze while I ask my more-daring question. "Why did you shield me? You could have betrayed me to your princes or your sisters a thousand times."

"This is between you and me alone. I saw no need to frighten them."

I nod, understanding, even as I fight a strange sense of disappointment. It is love for your sisters, not care for me, that leads you to keep my secret.

"Do you see need now?" I ask.

You examine me, and you look at the golden branch, and I can tell you are thinking of the events of the last two nights. "You do not merely hide yourself," you say. "You make yourself invisible. How?"

I could no more lie to you than tear out my own heart. "I made a wish, and it was granted me."

"By whom?"

"Rather, by what. Your garden holds a wishing tree."

You seize my wrist. “Show it to me.”

I stand firm. "Tell me, Princess Sonatina, if you found such a tree, would you suffer to let it live?"

"I should tear it out by the roots," you say, and I know it is true that you would do anything you thought necessary to guard your secret.

"Then although it pains me to disappoint you, I must refuse your request. The trees serve me because I serve them. I cannot repay their gifts by bringing about their destruction."

Your eyes flash. "You refuse your princess?"

I bow my head in apology. "Because it is my duty as a gardener to the king."

You release my wrist and pull away. You pace in frustration—back and forth, back and forth, your golden-brown curls wilder than ever. "There is nothing to prevent my finding it?"

"It is not concealed," I say.

"If it is fair for you to follow me to find our secret, it is only right that I can follow you to find yours."

"It is not my place to say otherwise."

You come to the garden every day after that—sometimes openly, sometimes skulking behind bushes or trees. Some days, I am sure, you watch from places I cannot see. But I do nothing save my ordinary gardening tasks, and I do not try to follow you at night. If I were the sort of man to make wishes for my own benefit, this would be the perfect way to make me use that gift against you. I love you more than ever because this does not occur to you—either you are too pure-hearted to suspect such villainy, or too trusting to imagine it in me.

Eventually, your constant watch breaks down the barriers between us, and you begin to speak to me. You ask me the names of the flowers I tend, and I tell you of the lilies that bloom by day and by night. The next day, you ask me about the blue flowers in your bouquet, and I tell you of the morning glories that make a gorgeous arch over the path you stand upon. In the days that follow, you pepper me with questions, wanting to know the names of every flower and bush and weed that grows in your father's gardens. And then, at last, one day, the name you ask to know is my own.

"I am called Michael Stargazer," I say, as I hand you a white bloom like a five-pointed star.

"Is it not your true name?"

"The first was written on a slip of paper in the basket where I was found upon a church's doorstep. The second was given to me for daydreaming too much."

You sit upon the edge of a fountain and stroke the petals of the flower. "It suits you," you say. "Michael the guardian."

"And the Stargazer who spends too much time dreaming of what is unreachable?" I ask, feeling the rebuke I deserve.

"No," you say—firmly, kindly. "The one who watches. So he can know what is true. And know what to do with his knowledge."

"You trust that I judge rightly?" I ask.

"I trust you," is all you say.

After that, you are with me in the gardens—not merely watching, but being, doing, helping. You wish to help the flowers grow, so I teach you of spades and trowels, watering cans and fertilizer, pruning and grafting and weeding. We start out hesitant—you uncertain of your tasks, I afraid to put a princess to work—but soon, you work with enthusiastic gusto, and I am glad to let you do what gives you joy.

Every night, you still wear through your dancing shoes, but yours are less ragged than the other eleven pairs, and you are wide awake with me in the gardens every morning. We talk while we work, but we do not even mention wishing trees or diamond groves or the music of enchanted palaces; there are too many other things to discuss in the sunlit world. You tell me of your sisters, of growing up royal, of books you've read and tutors you've teased. I tell you of the village where I was raised, of the dreams I had of one day meeting a princess—though I do not tell you that I've dreamed I will marry one.

One morning, in the height of summer, you are kneeling beside me, in a gown that you borrowed from a serving girl, wearing work gloves you borrowed from the gardener's shed. There are streaks of dirt on your face, and you smile at me in triumph as you dig up a bulb for transplanting.

In that moment, the sun shines full upon you, setting the gold and brown streaks of your hair alight. Suddenly, you are not an ethereal being, too high and fine for me to reach. You are here, with me, laboring in the Earth—and you glow with joy. It is not the blazing joy of your dances in the midnight palace—burning bright and fast and destructive. This joy is gentler, life-giving—like a hearth fire or a candle flame. It warms and nourishes, comforts and caresses. For the first time, I can picture you as a gardener's wife, laboring with me in a cottage, caring for our children, giving life to sons and daughters and helping me to make good things grow.

I nearly speak something of the joy in my own heart—but the words freeze on my tongue when I hear a laugh high above us.

Five of your sisters—Lyra and Cadence, Harmony and Melody, and in the center of them all, elegant, dark-haired Aria—stand on the other side of the flower bed, peering down at us.

"Is this where you sneak off to every morning, Tina?" Lyra laughs. "Grubbing in the dirt with the garden boy?"

You drop the bulb as though it burns you, desperately try to brush the dirt off your skirt, and back as far away from me as possible on the narrow path between flower beds. Your face burns bright red. "No," you stammer. "I was only..."

"What a charming couple you make," Aria sneers.

"You wouldn't have to leave us if you married him," Harmony laughs.

Her twin adds, "You could live in a cottage at the bottom of the park, and you could bring us our flowers every morning!"

"He is nothing!" you snarl at your sisters. You storm toward the palace, and you do not look back.

I do not see you for two days.

On the third day, you and your sisters return to the garden in the company of a prince—yet another who has taken up your father's impossible task. To spare you the horror of seeing me, I keep the white rose in my buttonhole and invisibly tend the wishing trees while you entertain the prince nearby.

Prince Ivan is sterner, more solemn than some of the others. Even I, a lowly gardener, have heard tales of his valor in battle. A thick saber-scar runs from his temple to his chin. He knows the danger he has placed himself in and faces it without flinching. There is something in his eyes that makes me think he welcomes it.

As I watch him, I wonder how he will fare in his quest. Will he reveal your secret or remain in the enchanted world with all the others? For the first time, I question the fate of those other princes. I have assumed they remained by choice, but in such a magical place, can first impressions ever be trusted? For their sake, as well as yours, I must follow you to the dance one more time.

When I reach your chamber in the evening, Prince Ivan is already among you. The twins, Melody and Harmony, focus on flattering him while your sisters tie on the last of their ribbons. His eyes, however, are for the dark-haired, sweet-tempered Princess Melisma. I think she does not dislike the attention.

As you descend the staircase—Melody and Harmony taking the lead with Prince Ivan—Princess Aria keeps Melisma at the end of the line.

"You mustn't encourage him," Aria says. "It might give him reason to follow us back home."

"He is so brave," Melisma says, "and so gentle. Would it be so terrible for me to have him as a husband?"

"If he weds you, he will take you to the Northlands, and we shall never see you again. Is that the life you want?"

Melisma blushes. "No," she whispers.

"Then let him drink," Aria says in a low tone. "He shall be here always, for you to dance with as much as you like. He will be the same brave and gentle prince, but will never take you away from us."

That night at the dance, there is a banquet in honor of the new guest. The tables pile high with delicacies I cannot name, and silent, ghostly servants keep your plates and goblets constantly filled. Prince Ivan looks younger, almost childlike, as he takes in the wonders, and his eyes have lost their haunted look.

"Such a wondrous place!" he breathlessly declares. "All beauty and joy! No sorrow, no politics, no battle."

Aria, seated at his right hand, plies him with red wine, and leads him to speak upon the war he won such honors in. He served with valor and is proud of protecting his people, but he has lost friends and brothers, is haunted by the fields strewn with the bodies of those who died too young.

"I should not speak of such things," Ivan says, putting down another empty goblet. "They are better forgotten."

"Do you not cherish some memories?" Aria asks.

"If I could forget every moment of it, I would," Ivan declares, "and stay always in this dance.

Aria smiles, then takes a golden goblet—the largest and most ornate in the room—from a servant standing at her shoulder. "You may do so," Aria says, "if you only drink this elixir. You shall have no regrets. No duties. No memories of battle. Only the beauties of this world."

Ivan looks to Melisma, seated at his left hand. She squeezes his scarred fingers in her long, delicate ones. "I shall come every night," she says softly.

Ivan takes the goblet from Aria's hand. His face holds the grim determination of a soldier, and the innocent bravery of a child hoping a bitter tonic will bring relief from pain. He drains the cup to its dregs.

When Aria takes the empty goblet, the prince is transformed. His eyes hold the same light of joy as all the other princes, but the honorable nobility of his bearing has drained away, leaving behind an empty imitation, all paper and gold leaf with nothing solid behind. For the rest of the night, he dances every dance with Princess Melisma. She is all joy when she looks in his face, but every time she turns away, she seems close to bursting into tears.

For the rest of the night, I cannot enter into the enchantment of the dance. I see only those princes, and wonder who they were before their will was drained away. I see your sisters dancing, each choosing one partner more than all others, and wonder if they too renounced marriage to someone they admired for the sake of this endless courtship. I travel across the lake in Aria's boat instead of yours, and as her prince hands her off to shore, I see even she seems on the point of asking him to come with her, before dropping his hand and turning resolutely to the diamond forest.

When you alight from your prince's boat, I see no similar love or regret in your eyes. At first I am relieved, and then my anger flares at your heartlessness. I snap off a diamond-spangled branch so fiercely that the sound of its breaking makes your every sister jump.

They glance in all directions, bewildered by the sound. You look directly toward me, your face burning with shame. Though I remain invisible, I know you feel me standing before you.

"What was that?" Melody shrieks in alarm.

"My guardian angel," is all you say, and though your sisters pelt you with questions all the way through the forests and up the staircase, you do not say another word.

When I leave your room, part of me wants to run to the king and tell all, but I cannot let judgment fall upon you without giving you a chance to speak for yourself. The diamond-spangled branch I place in your bouquet is both an accusation and an offer of parley.

You come to me—though you do not know it—when I am tending to the wishing trees, in the most secluded corner of the garden. "You have seen," you say.

"You have witnessed every one and said nothing. I want to know how you can defend yourself."

The innocent confusion in your eyes makes me repent of every crime I imputed to you. "What is there to defend?" you ask. "Every prince chooses to drink. We cannot deny them their choice."

"Do they know what it makes them?" I ask.

"If they do, they don't care," you say.

"Because they have been made incapable of caring for anything but the dance."

"Would you send Ivan back to his wars?" you ask. "Edmund to his awful father? Kristoff to his plague-filled land? They all have horrors they are escaping. It would be cruel to make them remember all the sorrows they were so desperate to forget."

The things that seemed so simple when I stood invisibly at your shoulder are more muddled now that you can look me clear in the face. There is one place in the world untouched by sorrow or strife—can I judge those who have fled for refuge there?

"You have had your wishes granted," you say softly. "Would you deny all of us ours?"

Looking into your innocent, imploring face, I find that I cannot. Your silence, I see now, is not heartlessness, but compassion. Loyalty to your sisters who wish to remain together. Pity for those princes who can find no other peace from their sorrows. There is no simple answer to the riddle that has entangled us all.

"Will you follow us again?" you ask.

"I do not know," I say. "Will you tell your sisters that I do?"

"I do not know," you say.

When you wander at last from the garden, your eyes—and thoughts—are far from me. This game has gone much further than any of us could have predicted. Any bond the two of us have built will break, I think, when pitted against the bond that you share with your sisters.

So that evening, when I pin the rose to my collar and invisibly slip into your room, I am not surprised to find that I am the topic of discussion. You are seated on a trunk in the center of the room, surrounded by a circle of glaring sisters.

"You knew all this time," Aria says, her voice low with anger, "and only now choose to tell us?"

"He vowed to keep the secret," you say. "He could do us no harm."

“Yet now you fear he will speak! He could destroy everything!”

“I told you when I thought you needed to know.”

Aria steps back and smooths her skirts and hair, becoming in one fluid motion the ever-composed crown princess. "There is only one thing we can do," she says. "We hand him over to the king’s justice. He has violated our royal persons by coming uninvited to our bedchamber. He will be hanged before the end of the week."

"No!" you shriek, jumping from your seat.

Your other sisters murmur in surprise—I cannot tell if more of it is directed toward you or Aria.

“There must be some other way,” says soft-hearted Allegra.

“Not if we wish to protect our secret," Aria says. "We have a world of perfection, an escape from all sorrows. We have twenty men who wish to stay there all their lives. We can’t endanger it for the sake of a presumptuous servant.”

You turn to Aria and say, “ He is not the first to know our secret. None of the other princes have had to die.”

Harmony says, "The garden boy is no prince."

Aria gazes thoughtfully at you. "Do you wish us to treat him as one? Let him present himself as a suitor for your hand?"

"I will not marry him,” you say, turning red.

"No one expects you to," Aria soothes. "But he can share the fate of the better-born. Let him dance and dine with us, then, at the end of the night, he will drink and forget there ever was a world above."

Your lips make a thin line, and your face goes white. “He would not like it.”

“Better than death, surely.”

You leave the circle of your sisters, tears in your eyes.

Aria follows you to where you gaze out the window. I could reach out and touch both of you. “Sonatina,” she says, soft and sweet as a mother. “I know you are fond of the garden boy. But you must be realistic. In this world, he can be nothing to you. You cannot marry a servant. He cannot marry a princess. Even friendship between you two can only be a scandal.”

Her words sink into my heart—cold, cruel, yet undeniably true. I have never dared to dream myself worthy of you—but there was, despite all, a small part of me that hoped for the impossible. Yet even if I could wish myself up a name and a title, it would not change who I truly was. Though I will love you to the end of my days, you can never love one such as me.

Aria’s voice becomes brighter, enticing. “But we have another world, where he can be whatever he wishes. You can dance with him every night without shame. You never have to face the impossible choice. You have him, and us, your title, your dances—forever.”

You gaze silently out the window. I stand at your side. I think of the world I would leave behind—the sunlight in the gardens, the wind and the rain and the wonderful flowers—in favor of that underground palace. I think of you laughing in the sun with dirt on your hands, and my wish that we could stay in that moment forever, ‘til death do us part.

It can never be anything more than a wish.

When you assent to your sister’s plan, my fate is sealed. I would risk all to give you the slightest joy. If it is your wish that I drink, I will drink—and gladly.

Your sisters come to me with their proposal, offering to present me to the king. They say nothing of their plan to give me the drink that will keep me forever in the dance. You, pale-faced at the rear of the crowd, say nothing at all. I say nothing of my presence at your midnight council. We are all trapped in the deafening silence of our secrets.

I accept their offer, but ask for time to prepare. Before I present myself at the palace, I make another trip to my faithful rose trees.

"Dress me as a prince," I beg. "Give me clothes fine enough to be seen in any royal court."

The second rose tree sprouts a crimson bloom, every petal as crisp as if cut by a tailor's scissors. When I place it in my buttonhole, my gardening clothes become a suit of black velvet, and a white-feathered cap appears upon my head.

As I stride toward the main doors of the palace, not one set of eyes knows me. Guards do not stop me as a presumptuous garden boy. I present myself before your father and he gives me all the respect due a prince.

When I rise from my bow of greeting, your eyes are riveted to my form. As I follow your father from the throne room, you stop me in the doorway with a hand upon my arm.

"Michael?" you ask, all amazed. "Can it truly be you?"

I bow my head—more garden boy than prince. "You need not be ashamed to be seen with me tonight."

Even so, you keep your distance. In the enchanted lake, I ride in a boat as Aria's guest, not yours. During the dance, your sisters all take their turns with me, from eldest to youngest. At last, I come to offer you my hand, but you seem reluctant to take it.

"Will you not dance with me, Princess Sonatina?" I ask.

"What need have you of my hand," you ask lightly, "when my sisters all treat you as a prince?"

"I want no hand but yours," I say.

You look down, your face drawn.

I bow over your hand and say softly, "Fear not, princess. You shall not be a gardener's wife."

I sweep you into the dance, and it is everything I could have dreamed. You are a wisp, a breath, a butterfly, moving at a touch, at a thought, stepping perfectly with my every unschooled motion. There is an energy between us, and at last you yield to it, looking deeply into my eyes.

In your gaze, I see the princess who I loved from a distance in the gardens, the companion who planted flowers at my side, the friend who defended me from her sisters' threats, and now a woman waiting to doom me to an eternal dance.

In this moment, such a fate does not seem a terror—it seems a gift. Here in this enchanted place, I am no gardener, no nameless, abandoned son. I can dwell here and see you night after night, as worthy as any man, if not to wed you, at least to take you in a dance, and know, if only for a moment, that I am the cause of your joy.

We whirl through the ballroom, through dance after dance after dance, neither able nor wishing to stop. After a time, all your sisters and their partners fall still, watching as we move in flawless harmony, our very heartbeats seeming to move in perfect time.

As the final dance draws to a close, you are silently weeping, tears in crystal rivers streaming down your face.

"Michael," you say. "After dinner—"

There is no need for you to speak what I already know. "Peace," I say. "All will be well."

At the dinner, your sisters flatter me, distracting me with delicacies and drink. Yet, they all seem restless, unsatisfied for once with this perfect palace and their empty-eyed princes.

At last Aria approaches with an ornate golden goblet.

"Garden boy," Aria says. "In the world above, you are a common laborer, unworthy even to gaze upon a princess. Here, you are an honored guest, who could dance with her every night should you choose. With this drink, you may stay here always, without the shame of your birth standing between you. Will you drink, Michael Stargazer, and forget all pain?"

I take the goblet between two work-hardened hands. The wine inside is clear as water and thick as blood. The scent intoxicates me, promising me endless joy in exchange for all memories.

There is much I loved in the world above—I love none of it so well as I love you. I close my eyes and set the cup to my lips.

There is a cry, and the cup is dashed from my hands. It crashes to the marble floor, and the wine oozes out in a thick mass.

Suddenly your arms are around my neck, and your face buried in my shoulder as you weep desperate tears.

"Michael, my love! Don't drink! I will love you beneath the open sky, in sun and rain and wind! I will be a gardener's wife! Let this castle crumble into dust! I would rather lose all the world than lose the man I love!”

My despair—though I did not know it by its true name until this moment—becomes hope, bright and dancing. I gather you in my arms and rain kisses upon your brow. It seems impossible that you love me, which makes it all the more wondrous to find it real.

Around us, the princes wake from their trance, and there is life in their gazes. They are men again, with minds and hearts, and the ones who served as boatmen each take one of your sisters in their arms. Your sisters—even Aria—cry with joy to see their restoration.

Suddenly, the ground shakes beneath us. Shards of colored glass and precious stones rain down from the castle walls.

“What is happening?” you cry.

I bend my head to kiss your brow, then look up at the castle. “You no longer wish for this world,” I say. “It cannot last.”

The other princes are already leading your sisters out the door, with Prince Ivan—Melisma at his side—taking charge of all. Each boatman leads one of your sisters to the water. They pile you into boats, and I help them arrange the transport, until you, your sisters, all the spare princes—and, least of all, myself—are safely across to the other shore.

We race through the forests—jeweled branches shattering as they fall—and clamber up the crumbling staircase. You and I are at the back of the line, hand in hand. As we stand at the base of the stairs, we look back at the crumbling palace, the destruction of a wondrous world of wishes.

“I am sorry,” I say, as the palace sinks into the black water of the lake.

You smile at me. “There is nothing to mourn.”

Laughing with joy, you tug my hand and lead me up the stairs.

In your moonlit bedroom, you and your sisters are as alive and beautiful as you once were in your mornings in the garden—moreso, because every eye is lit with love. Your sisters stand hand-in-hand with the princes who served as their boatmen. No longer empty revelers, they are men—noble, true, devoted—and overjoyed to be back in the world, despite its pain, rather than trapped in the never-ending dance.

Aria comes to us as we emerge from the staircase. She embraces each of us in turn, then closes and locks the wooden door behind us. The door disappears and becomes a blank stone wall once more. A low roar sounds as the tunnel and its staircase crumble.

“It is gone,” Aria says, "and good riddance.”

We gaze at her in astonishment, shocked to hear those words coming from the one who had been the greatest defender of the dance.

“I lost myself in wishes,” she says, “but I have found the truth again.” She takes the hand of her boatman—a dark man with kind eyes who reigns as prince of a far-southern realm. “I feared the future because I feared change. I thought the dance could keep us together—young and careless forever. Blinded by enchantments, I could not see that I kept us all from the possibility of a better world. You saved all of us.”

Your sister embraces you, and then—one of the night’s most astonishing sights—the crown princess of one of the greatest nations in the world kneels before a garden boy and bows over his dirt-stained hand.

You all ask for forgiveness, but there is nothing to forgive. All your princes—even myself—fell to the despair that kept them in the dance. We can forget the dance and its soulless wonders and return to the real, bright world.

But first, we must tell your father.

You all agree that the honor of revealing the secret should fall to me. You give me the three branches I placed in your bouquets, and at first light, still dressed in my princely clothes, I ask for an audience with the king.

Your father needs little convincing to believe my tale—with so many witnesses, and so many lost princes standing before him, there is little room for doubt.

“You have solved the mystery, Michael Stargazer,” the king says, “and have earned the offered prize. Which of my daughters will you have to wife?”

Stepping before all the assembled royalty, I say, “Majesty, I do not wish for a wife that I claim as a prize. I will only take the wife who chooses me freely, with all her heart and mind.”

In the moment of silence that follows, the glimmer of doubt reappears. You declared your love for me in that unreal underground kingdom, but can you do the same in the sunlit world, where your words have real and eternal consequences?

In that dawn-lit room, before all your sisters, your father, and twenty foreign princes, you come to my side and place your hand in mine. “I will be your wife, Michael Stargazer, with all my heart, mind, body and soul, until the end of my days.”

I answer with a kiss upon your brow. “I give you the same, and all my worldly goods, if you will join me in a cottage in the gardens.”

“There’s no need for that,” your father says. “You have helped to save the royal sons of more than fifteen kingdoms. No one would question your right to a title after such service. I can make you a prince, and you and my daughter can have a royal estate as a wedding present.”

After that is a day of rejoicing, your sisters and their princes all celebrating their restoration and my elevation. But before sunset, you and I slip away to the gardens, where I at last show you the two little rose trees that made all of this possible.

“They are beautiful,” you say.

“They have brought me all I could desire,” I say, “but I have one last wish to make.”

In answer to my whispered words, a pink rose blooms on the smallest bush, with a lady’s ring—twined gold and silver, with a diamond at its center—sitting at its heart.

I kneel before you and place it upon your finger. With your ringed hand, you raise me to my feet and pull me into a kiss.

The rose trees are transplanted to a place of honor in the gardens of our new home. You and I tend to them every day, but since we’ve had our three wishes, they grow only ordinary roses.

I am glad.

With you as my wife in such a glorious world, what further need have I of wishes?

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses #it turns out that finishing this one seemed like less work than starting from scratch #it still took a lot of work #but it's a bit more polished than it would have been if i'd just tried to rush out a new idea

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