#the way he continues to haunt even her servant self. for him to have hurt her enough for her to have this reaction. MAN. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crackspinewornpages · 5 months

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War and Peace 170/198 -Leo Tolstoy

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After Maria learned from Rostof that her brother was with the Rostofs at Yaroslavl she ignored her aunt’s protests and went to visit with her nephew. Mlle Bourienne and the tutor an old nurse three maids Tikhon a footman and a courier also went. (because back in the day aristocracy took an entire cast of servants with them) During the journey Maria was the first to wake and last to sleep and she accepted her love of Rostof, no longer struggling against it. “Of late she had persuaded herself-though she never said this in so many words even to herself-that she loved, and was loved in return.”p.575 Though Rostof didn’t say she saw he thought if Andrei recovered his and Natasha’s relationship could recover.

Sonya came out to lead them to the Countess who embraced Maria declaring her love for her, she tells Maria the doctor said there’s no danger but her eyes say different. (I get not wanting to worry her but the guy has gangrene the whole house would smell like death) Maria also saw the Count who now looked like a wreck in contrast to his jovial confident old self. (well yeah that happens when you drive your family into financial ruin) The Count introduced her to his niece Sonya and despite feeling hostile she kissed her. (now the lesbians get to have a moment) Maria heard Natasha run up the stairs from Andrei and embraced this girl who sympathized in her grief. (and who treated her like shit) Natasha was so consumed by love for Andrei and what he loved there was no room to think of herself or their relationship.

Maria takes her into the next room and Natasha felt the need to tell the truth, but all she could do is cry. After comparing themselves they went to see Andrei and Natasha told him of his fears, he’s in thin, he can’t live. Two days ago Andrei became gentle, a symptom of impending death, a sensitive face Maria watched fade away as he grew up. She saw him and feels guilty for being alive and thinking of the future as he lay dying and he took a hostile expression and monotone indifferent voice to her but thanks her for coming. “He evidently found it difficult to understand the interests of life, but at the same time one could feel that this was so, not because he was deprived of the power of remembrance, but because his mind was turned to something else, which the living do not and cannot comprehend, and which was absorbing him entirely.”p.579

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Andrei knew and felt he was going to die and felt alienation for earthly things and impatience for what awaited him, that Eternal Presence that always haunted his senses from far away was now near and almost palpable. Twice before he felt that fear of death, once when shells were flying above him and when he woke in that battle field after being freed of the burden of life and eternal love, everything, the more he imbued himself with it the more he let go of life. He accepted death but after Mitishchi he met Natasha again, his love for her attached his heart to life. His illness continued and two days before, death won the fight over life.

As he lay in delirium he always sensed Natasha’s presence, they spoke of their past, never of the future. He wondered if fate brought them back together only for him to die, given them enough of life to live a lie. (yeah what little relationship they had before they got terrible isn’t enough for me to buy this lovey dovey tragic sap) He tells Natasha that he loves her, she’s sure she loves him too. (sure Jan) She goes back to knitting and he asks himself what is love. (Baby Don’t Hurt Me~) “Love stands in the way of death. Love is life. All, all that I understand, I understand solely because I love. All is, all exists, simply and solely because I love. All is summed up in this alone. Love is God; and death for me, a tiny particle of love, means returning into the universal and eternal source of love.”p.581 He fell asleep in the consoling thoughts but the baseless reality.

He dreamed of being well, the room was full of people waiting to go somewhere, as he spoke he felt it a waste of time but they gradually left. He went to the door feeling everything depended on if he closed it but he couldn't move, he feared death and it was behind it. Death tried to open it and he struggled to shut it again but the door swung open, he was dying. He made an effort to wake up, this was two days before Maria arrived. The doctors said his fever got worse, there’s no room for doubt. Maria and Natasha stayed by his side watching his body, the man was gone, sinking deeper. He took confessions and all came to see him and went through the motions when seeing his son. (even dying he couldn’t give a crap about his kid) After the last spasm Maria declared him gone.

PART THIRTEENTH

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1812, France is threatened, everywhere the nations are rising against Napoleon and his forces in Russia are facing annihilation by the cold. He doesn’t know it yet but his empire is crumbling.

The Russian army was rolling and assumed equilibrium as soon as the force of blows diminished. Kutuzof knew what was taking place and what the half of the French army signified, wounded at Borodino like a beast left by a huntsman. Finally, it gave a cry by its premonition of its doom, sent a request of peace to Kutuzof’s camp but Napoleon’s words made no sense, Kutuzof still kept his men from battle. During the month the French pillaged Moscow and the Russians recuperating in Tarutino both armies came a change of spirits and an attack was inevitable. It accumulated in their sending of the letter the supplies in Tarutino, reports of French disorderliness, the rest of the Russians, an impatience to finish what was started, news of easy victory after the French by peasants and desire of vengeance. (in summary a bad combination)

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The Russian army was directed by Kutuzof and the Sovereign, before Moscow was sacked a plan was sent to Kutuzof though made believing they’d still have Moscow, Kutuzof accepted it. On October 14 the Sovereign wrote a letter to Kutuzof after the Battle of Tarutino. Since September 14 Moscow was taken over by the French and he only wrote to him about it on October 2 and made no moves to fight against the enemy. The still retreating the French are advancing along roads scattered, is the enemy still too great to retake Moscow, one would assume contrary. It is Kutuzof’s responsibility if the enemy sends troops to the capitol and he still has to answer for the loss of Moscow.

Kutuzof could no longer restrain his army and on October 14 a Cossack ran into the forest to hunt a rabbit and stumbled upon Murat’s army. When the Cossack bragged about it the commander questioned him, scouts were sent to confirm and it was evident it was time for action. Kutuzof reported to the Sovereign all the generals expressed to carry out his supposed wishes. Kutuzof could no longer restrain the movement and gave the order. (you’re a bad military leader when you can’t control your men and fold under their pressure)

A plan was drawn up, the marching columns would meet up and annihilate the enemy but they didn’t meet up on time or at the place. (the Russian army is just a joke isn’t it) Only Count Orlof-Denisof got there, he was awoken at dawn and a French deserter was brought to him, a Polish non commission officer that felt insulted and wanted revenge and promised with a hundred men could capture Murat. (it’s a trap!) The officer left with the volunteers, the expected columns were still not in sight but the French camp had signs of life. It’s too late and he realized the officer was a traitor. (you don’t say) Orlof-Denisof called the regiment back and his army to horse and charged at the French camp, fifteen hundred were captured, thirty eight cannons horses and suppliers. During the division of goods the French fired back, several hundred men were uselessly lost. Kutuzof Benigsen and others received claim, orders and tokens for the battle. It failed to capture Murat or destroy the corps, but it succeeded in driving the French from Russia, French were seen as weak and began to retreat. (this battle was the equivalent of kicking a man while he was down)

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Pierre’s clothes were dirty and torn, he grew a beard and his longer hair was tangled and lice infested, but unlike his previous characteristics his eyes were alert he was ready for resistance. His feet were bare, every time he looked at them they reminded him of what he learned over time. In talking to the corporal he learned the troops were moving and an order regarding prisoners would be given. It was four weeks since Pierre was taken prisoner but thanks to his religious constitution remained as good as he was. In the time he felt the calmness he sought, he tried philanthropy in a fashionable life, wine, self sacrifice and love, all paths disappointed him, now he found contentment by the horror of death. He no longer thought of Russian politics or Napoleon, it wasn’t his concern, his issues with his wife seemed ludicrous, what difference was it to please her, what difference was it the French had Count Bezukhof as a prisoner. His station in life of wealth and society destroyed all possible occupational desires. (of you poor trust fund baby) Now Pierre thought of the future where he’d be free but after he would think of the spiritual peace of his imprisonment and inward freedom.

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October 18 the French started to retreat, the soldier Sokolof was sick with dysentery (super diarrhea) and would be left behind, Pierre tried to comfort him that they were going to set up a hospital, he might be better off. Pierre went to ask the friendly corporal but he had changed overnight and ignored him and Pierre heard drums. “Pierre recognized that mysterious, unsympathetic power he had seen at work during the executions. To fear this power, to try to escape it, to address with petitions or with reproaches the men who served as its instrument, was idle.”p.594 The doors to the hut was opened and Pierre went to the front of the flock of prisoners. The captain ordered them off, Pierre asked him of the sick man and was told to go to the devil and Pierre knew it was useless, they were under the force. The prisoners were marched through Khamovniki and halted on the bridge watching the Germans pillage the burned city.

They marched and halted again at nightfall and the soldiers treated them even worse and were fed horseflesh. (is this a Russian thing) All felt personal anger against each other, prisoners noticed from previous friendliness and during roll call one had escaped in Moscow, the order was to shoot those that had to left behind. Pierre broke down thinking at a wagon, after an hour he broke into laughter then stopped, the camp was now silent. (the sound of sanity hysteric laughter then silence) He stared at the stars thinking they took all that was his and shut it in a hut then he went to sleep.

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A letter came to Kutuzof for peace from Napoleon dated from Moscow as he was on the Kaluga highway, he replied the same to the last one, refusal. News of the separated enemy division at Faminskoye, Dokhturof was instructed to attack. At Aristiove he questioned prisoners, the army left Moscow five days ago and word of the French marching to Borousko where they now had a whole French army. Kutuzof wouldn’t act without the Sovereign's orders after the Battle of Tarutino. “Like an experienced huntsman, he knew that the wild beast was wounded-wounded as only the whole force of Russia could wound; but whether or not the wound was mortal was as yet an undecided question.”p.599 (be careful a wounded beast that's cornered will try to take you down with it)After sixty years experience he didn’t trust the rumors and he only desired the destruction of France. His messengers came back and Kutuzof broke into tears thinking the lord for saving Russia.

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Kutuzof spent his time ensuring the enemy was already doomed, the superior generals went to cut off the French retreat and take them prisoner. “He could not say what we can say today-why fight battles, why dispute the road, why lose your own men, and why inhumanely kill unfortunate wretches?” p.601 Kutuzof told them to cross the golden bridge, they marched. He couldn’t retrain the army and the army killed and lost thousands of men but didn’t succeed in extermination and the French retreated to Smolensk.

PART FOURTEENTH

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1812, the Russian winter hit and the French army is in retreat being attacked, French morale is low and forces are opposing Napoleon, the only hope is to get the army out of Russia.

Partisan warfare was in effect as the isolated French huddled together. “In war the momentum of troops is likewise the product of the mass multiplied by some unknown quantity, x. This x is the spirit of the army; in other words, the more or less intense desire of all the men composing the army to fight and expose themselves to peril, ran independently of whether they are under the command of men of genius or otherwise.”p.604 The French should have defended themselves and the Russian attack in mass, so a guerilla war began at Smolensk. Denisof and Dolokhof were there and made plans without officials to attack.

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It was raining and Denisof was uncomfortable and the men attended to the horses. Denisof was in a mood from being wet and from hunger and that Dolokhof had not returned they don't have another chance to attack the transport train. Then an officer and Cossack were spotted in the distance, it was a message from the general. Denisof recognized Petya Rostof who forgot formality when Denisof smiled at him. The letter was from the Corpsman General to unite and attack the train, if they don’t attack tomorrow he’ll take it from them. Petya resumed a military aspect and asked Denisof if he has any orders, he can stay until tomorrow and asks to stay with him, Denisof allows it. Denisof had his subordinates arrange to meet at the rendezvous and an aide rode off to look for Dolokhof. Denisof, Petya, the captain, a few Cossacks and the hussar in charge of the French drummer boy prisoner rode off to the forest.

#war and peace #leo tolstoy #books #book summaries #historical fiction #romance #philosophical fiction

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

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One Can Never Escape Destiny

Shan-Yu x Empress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Murder scene (non-graphic)

Genre: Angst, Romance (one-sided)

Summary: After fulfilling his plan of taking over China Shan-Yu and his army have made it to the palace of Empress Y/L/N Y/N. However, one obstacle the warrior still fails to overcome is swaying the Empress herself, getting in her good graces. Unable to kill her, he is left to do all he can to have her spare him as much as a civil word.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for such and amazing and so different request from what I’m used to. This is my first time writing for a Disney character, a villain even, so I hope to have fulfilled your expectations even with it being so late in posting. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

She refuses to eat or see the light of day. She’s been hidden away in a single room of the palace ever since China fell. She attempted to fight and gave her all when her eyes met his poisonous ones and her sword’s blade collided with his. The fight was a difficult one, he had to admit. She would’ve won had she not had a heart of gold. Putting her right-hand man’s under the sharp dagger in his merciless hand left her no choice. She loved that man, he could see it in her eyes. And he wasn’t going to kill the pathetic excuse for a member of the Empress’ council, but seeing that look of devotion and adoration in her gaze when her eyes met with his drove him in a fit of absolute rage. He couldn’t restrain himself and let the blade slide across the man’s neck only after the Empress had surrendered.

“NOOO!“ She had shrieked in terror and sorrow, all her pain audible in her cry that echoed all throughout the palace, piercing the monstrous warrior’s ears. He couldn’t bare to see her so distraught, over another man on top of all, so her ordered his men to take her to one of the chambers and leave her to collect herself. She still had fight left in her though. She escaped from his men’s grasps and overpowered them both until a third one knocked her out cold with the handle of his dagger. A choice of action that landed him the second dead body to be thrown out of the palace that night.

He specifically instructed the man taking Y/N to her chamber to be gentle and caring with her and to leave the door unlocked, maybe even open a crack. He didn’t want her to feel trapped in her own home.

He sat by one of the windows all through the late dark hours of the night and even met the sunrise at dawn. He contemplated so many things, scolded himself even. He had become the ruler of China and yet he had never felt so low and defeated. He even let his mind wander to the option of killing the Empress for his own peace of mind but he knew he wouldn’t be able to the second he realized he wasn’t even able to picture himself doing it. The very though sickened him to his stomach and he was disgusted with himself to have ever allowed himself to think such a thought.

The main thing troubling him was the fact that he didn’t know where such admiration came from. He had never admired nor respected a woman before but he felt the need to bow before her instead of the other way around. He wanted to be her loyal servant, tending to her every need at the bat of her eyelashes. He could barely believe himself either way - killing her or adoring her, they were both thoughts bordering into insanity, he couldn’t tell which was worse. Of course he could, he just wanted to lie to himself. He knew he could never lay a hand on her.

Shan-Yu had fallen under the spell of the very Empress he was supposed to end in order to fulfill his evil plans.

He should want her dead while he’s prepared to kill whoever dares even wish her harm. Funny how destiny works. Or perhaps this is karma punishing him for his evil ways by putting one bump in the road right in front of him - one so easy to get rid of in theory, but he could never commit to it.

It has been four full days since that fateful night and he hasn’t heard nor seen her. He’s not willing to disturb her peace and earn himself an injury from the infuriated Empress but the hours of overthinking, contemplating and self-battling are weighing heavy on him. His men are beginning to notice, although they’d never say anything - they may be cruel, dumb fools but they respect their lives enough to not put them at a risk like that. Not even a risk, more like certain death. They all obeyed his orders of bringing the Empress food three times a day every day and they all witnessed the defeat and worry that washed over their leader’s face whenever they brought back the dishes untouched hours after they had delivered them.

So, after a lot of self-convincing and doubting, Shan-Yu has bitten the bullet - he is walking the halls to the Empress Y/L/N Y/N’s chamber. He makes it to her door sooner than he’d like, his confidence is not fully built. His composure could easily be shaken. His words are scrambled and even if he could form coherent sentences, he knows they die in his throat.

‘Pull yourself together, you pathetic mutt‘ He scolds himself for the hundredth time in the past hour. Easier said than done, though. She’s a woman of incredible strength, power and character. She was respected by every individual in China, not a single soul looked down upon her. They had already hated him, but now that he has allegedly put their dear Empress in misery, he’d be dead along with his army if they weren’t so strongly feared.

Shan-Yu brings himself to knock on the chamber doors, his voice a faint echo through the massive hallway when he calls out, “Empress, may I enter?”

No answer, as he expected. He is half expecting to not even be there, to have escaped. He knows her better than that though.

Cautiously pushing the door open, he’s met with a dark room only lit by the moonlight seeping in through a small rectangular window directly opposite the door. He sees her silhouette in the windowsill. She’s sitting facing away from him, looking out of the window at the rooftops underneath the clear, starry night sky. She doesn’t bother to turn her head to acknowledge his presence, also as expected.

A small detail he notices sends shivers down his spine - there are metal bars on her window. Why?

“I was a rebellious child. I knew my destiny before even understanding what it meant. All I knew was that I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be Empress. I wanted to be one of those brave souls who were prepared to leave to a front knowing they might not return.“ Her voice rings through the cold, dark space, bouncing off the walls in a haunting manner, enchanting him. “My father knew I would be more than capable of running away so I was frequently spending plenty of time here, locked up. As I am now.“

She is still facing away from him but he still shakes his head as though she could see him. “You are not locked here, Empress Y/N. The door is always open. This palace is still yours.”

“That you are right about.“ Y/N’s head turns finally and his heart drops.

She is pale, eyebags weighing heavy under her tired eyes. Her hair is covering her face but her pale complexion is more than visible even from behind her locks. She looks like she has been crying, not that she’s a woman who cries often. A tear of hers has the same value as a bar of gold.

She continues. “Chu Bao, the man you killed in front of my very eyes, was the only man I’ve ever loved and the only person who saw me as more than my title. I’m not just an Empress! Everyone forgets that!“

He feels hurt by her remark, “Y/N, I know. I know better than anyone. I have overtaken all of China and yet you are my greatest prize...”

She cuts him off, her shaky hands pushing her hair to the side so she can look directly at him, her crystal eyes meeting his menacing yellow ones with such intensity he feels it almost like a physical presence. “I am no prize, you monster! I’m a person who destiny played wrong! I given a role I have never been happy with. But I had to play it to maintain the honor of my family and of China as a whole. It taught me a valuable lesson: No matter the tries, one can never escape destiny. So...” she trails off, her eyes losing their feisty glow as she turns back to the window, “I embraced it and became one with my land, this palace, my title. And I will stay one with them till my death. Now, leave! And don’t bring me food anymore. Don’t check on me. I want it all to end the way it started - in this palace, in this chamber. I want to go out with the last bit of dignity I have. If nothing, I will die without ever bowing to you. I may have surrendered, but consider this me prolonging the fight.” He hears her scoff, a humorless chuckle, “The moment I die will be the moment I win.”

Shan-Yu has never been a man to live to face defeat. He always defeats the defeat, stands up taller than ever whenever he’s been brought down. Now is different, however. His defeat is inevitable. It hasn’t even happened yet, but he knows the battle’s lost. His hands are tied. He would never disobey a wish of Y/N’s nor could he live with her slowly dying. He cannot keep her alive against her will, and he can’t end it all quickly for her either.

She has already won, but she’s not aware.

Empress Y/L/N Y/N has defeated the monstrous, villainous conqueror Shan-Yu twice in her life: once when she had him fall in love with her and again when she chose to put an end to her life, leaving him powerless.

All he can do now is accept his defeat and allow for Y/N to become nothing but a battle scar on his heart.

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writinglizards · 4 years

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If You Love It, Let It Go

Summary: Yennefer isn’t the only one Geralt pushes away on the mountain. And well. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

Read on Ao3

Finding out about Geralt's djinn wish is like being gutted. Yennefer knows magic, knows how insincere it is, how cutting, how fake. Finding that this gentle feeling in her chest is manufactured, no different from a glamor or a charm, is world-shattering.

She lashes out, Geralt lashes out in turn. They both say things they know will hurt, will dig claws in, will bleed. When she storms away, angry tears streaking down her face, she has one plan: pack up the tent and portal out of here.

The shouting that follows mere moments later is...not surprising, exactly, but the bard that stumbles into camp, eyes rimmed red and looking lost is, just a little. Yennefer watches him out of the corner of her eye as she flicks her wrist, using magic to get the tent to fold down small enough to fit in her bag.

Jaskier stumbles over to the lean-to he and Geralt should have shared last night and kind of...stares. One of the dwarves is breaking their camp not too far away, gives a shout of greeting which seems to jolt Jaskier back to the task at hand. He starts packing his bag, slow and methodical, his expression blank and distant.

Something sits wrong with Yennefer about it. She hates the bard, hates the attention he gets from Geralt, the way Geralt can't shut up about him in that quiet way of his, hates him for the competition he presents, even if she'd been winning. But seeing him like this, blank and silent, it's obvious he's upset and he's hurting and she can guess whose fault that is. And well. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

"Bard," she calls, pausing in her packing.

He jolts again, eyes passing over her only to slide away, expression vacant. "Sorry Yennefer, I--" he pauses, licks his lips, still crouched over his open bag, "I'm not up to par right now, I'm afraid. Perhaps we can do this later?" And oh, that's...upsetting. She's upset on his behalf which is just--

"I don't want to argue with you, Jaskier," she says, biting back the impulse to call him something less flattering. It gets his attention at least. His gaze drifts back over to her, settles.

"What could you possibly want, then?" he asks, voice soft. It's so defeated it hurts to even hear. It's the only reason she makes the offer she does.

"I'm leaving. Come with me." She's expecting some grand, overblown reaction. Instead, she gets a long stare, a slow blink in response.

"Why?"

"Because--" because he hurt you too, because if anyone understands this it's you, because I can't be alone, "--Geralt won't expect it. And you need as much of a break from him as I do." It's the truth, if only partly.

He looks...blank. It's unnerving--the bard is not meant to be still, to be quiet. "Okay," he says after an extended pause, no fanfare. There's not even a token protest. "I'll go with you."

They pack quickly after that. Yennefer finishes magically putting away her tent. Jaskier finishes packing his bag. He glances briefly at Geralt's things, expression gone vacant again.

"Jaskier," his attention slides back to her, slowly, "ready to go?"

He works his throat for a moment, no sound. "Yeah," he eeks out, "I just--"

"You don't owe him anything," she hisses, watching his gaze drift back over to Geralt's things, "we don't owe him anything."

"You're right," he sighs, closes his eyes. He doesn't ask where they're going when she opens the portal and she doesn't tell him.

They step out into her modest estate in Vengerberg, in the courtyard. She expects that now they have arrived, Jaskier will ask where they are. He doesn't. He just...stands there, looking lost. It’s irritating.

"Well, here we are," she prompts. Jaskier simply hums in response and it's too familiar--she's too raw. She snaps. "Are you going to fucking say something or are you going to stand there like a marionette for Militile's sake?"

He stares, eyes wide. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," she hisses, angry, "but if you're just going to mope you can leave." She doesn't care where the bard goes (except that maybe she does, just a little).

"Oh," he says, voice small. She sighs, forces herself to reign in her temper.

"Stay for the night, at least. If you're still--" she makes a vague gesture in his general direction that doesn't actually indicate anything, "--tomorrow, then you can go. But stay for today."

The silence is too thick. She thinks he'll reject her offer outright, but-- "okay," he says, nearly too quiet.

She sets him up in his own room, sends the house servants to check on him periodically, and tries to tell herself she doesn’t care whether he chooses to stay or go.

He's still there in the morning, looking a little more like himself, although his eyes are a little red again.

"Good morning, Yennefer, dear," he mumbles around a mouthful of sweet bread where he's perched at her dining table. She snorts.

"Sure," she huffs, stalking through to snatch the remaining sweet bread right from his plate. He frowns a little but doesn't argue it with her (not a good sign). They stare each other down as she nibbles delicately at the roll. "So--" she resents that he's making her ask, "--how are you doing?"

His expression doesn't shift from the pleasant blankness. "Fine."

"Bullshit, bard."

He sighs. "What do you want to hear, Yennefer?"

"The truth, for once," she tells him, point-blank. It feels a little like digging her nails into flesh, a little like picking at a raw wound. Whether she wants him to hurt or herself, she's not sure.

"What do you want me to say?"

"You love him," she accuses, angry. Those nails dig in a little deeper, draw blood, "and he'll never love you."

His expression doesn't shift, but his eyes look-- "yeah," he says, quiet, "I do." He doesn't dispute Geralt doesn't love him but doesn't acknowledge it, either.

"And he doesn't care," Yennefer continues, sweet bread forgotten. She wants to watch that blankness crack, "you love him and he doesn't return it, doesn't care, doesn't love you back. Why do you stay, Jaskier?"

"What else can I do?" he asks. It's infuriating.

"It hurts you, Jaskier. Why let him hurt you?" She finds she wants to understand. Love, the good kind, the kind she's always wanted, isn't supposed to hurt. Can't he understand?

The look he gives her is soft and sad. "You don't choose who you love, Yennefer. Sometimes--" he breaks off to stare at the empty plate before him, "--sometimes it doesn't last. Sometimes it never goes away."

"But it hurts you," she reiterates pointlessly, brow pinched in frustration.

"It does," he agrees, one hand pressed to his chest, "and we don't get to choose that, either." His smile is self-deprecating this time.

"Why does it have to hurt, Jaskier?" She's horrified to find fresh tears brimming in her eyes. She turns away, tries to tamp down on the surge of pain in her chest. Jaskier sits, silent. "I hate him," she whispers, "fuck, I hate him."

Behind her, the chair scrapes noisily across the flagstones as he pushes away from the table to cross the room, awkwardly pat at her shoulder. "It always hurts," he murmurs, "you get used to it."

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

They don't talk about Geralt after that, although he lingers in every conversation, unspoken. He loves Yennefer. He doesn't love Jaskier. Yennefer hates that her choice was taken from her, that she seems to love him anyway. Jaskier is resigned to scraps of affection, always no better than second best. All of it makes her righteously furious to think about, so she doesn't (except, of course, she does).

Jaskier doesn't ask about leaving and she doesn't ask him to go again, after the first afternoon. It's...good. To have someone around that understands. Because he does, even though they don't talk about it.

They establish a routine. Jaskier spends hours in her library, reading and composing and singing. She spends her day in the workroom. They meet in the kitchen for lunch, have an informal dinner in the dining room, spend evenings together around the hearth of her sitting room.

At some point, she stops thinking of him as insufferably annoying and only amusing, wonders if this is how Geralt thinks of him, wonders if he feels fond the way she does, sometimes, when Jaskier is more himself.

It would be easier if she loved him. Jaskier is so kind, so good, even when she doesn't deserve it. He gives as good as he gets, but he's never cruel, not the way she can be. How could Geralt have ever looked at him, held his heart in his hands, and turned him away? Jaskier deserves good, deserves better than Geralt, better than Yennefer. Destiny has been viciously unfair to the bard, setting him between the two of them, a willing target for their joint suffering, their joint pain.

And yet he smiles, he sings, he refuses to leave. Maybe she does understand Geralt, a little. And Jaskier, too, maybe. If you love it enough, you let it go. She needs to practice letting go.

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

It's really only a matter of time before Geralt shows up--he's been to Yennefer's Vengerberg estate before. The house servants let him in, leave him in her receiving room (not the library, not anymore. That's Jaskier's space).

"Geralt," she says, voice carefully void of emotion. She's angry, gods is she angry, but he looks...bad. The circles under his eyes, always prominent, are deep, dark bruises. He's a little too thin, a little too gaunt. He looks haunted.

"Yen," he says, voice rough, like he hasn't spoken for weeks (he likely hasn't).

"What do you want? You know I want nothing to do with you." She's not sure about that, really, but when she says it, it feels true. She doesn't want to see him, doesn't want anything to do with him. It's not that she loves him less, per se. She still feels whatever this is in her chest. She just...finds she doesn't quite trust it, doesn't want to indulge it. They've only ever hurt each other. She wants to stop hurting so, so badly.

"I know," he says, sounding tired, "Yen, I know, but--" he breaks off, sucks in a breath like he's steeling himself for a fight, "--I need your help."

She laughs.

"I know, I know. I don't deserve to even ask--"

"No, you don't," she says, voice like razor wire, vicious. He keeps going.

"--but I can't find him Yen. I've looked everywhere and I can't find him. I can't--" his voice breaks and he ducks his head, hides his face. She doesn't feel like laughing anymore. He soldiers on after a moment, voice wavering, "If he's gone and it's my fault, Yen, I--"

"Geralt." Her chest aches, painfully. This is what Jaskier's felt, for years, she thinks. This aching, creeping pain as she realizes that Geralt isn't here for her, despite his wish, despite how he’s tied them together. He's looking for Jaskier. Maybe she's had him wrong all this time.

"Please," he says, turns his eyes back towards her again. He looks hollowed out, like there's nothing behind that gaze. "I know I fucked up with you both, Yen. But please."

She thinks about lying. If Geralt doesn't believe Jaskier alive any longer, he'll leave the bard in peace, give him the opportunity to start to heal, to move on. Gods know Jaskier can't do that on his own. She wants to. The selfish part of her thinks if she can keep him long enough, Jaskier might love her that strongly, that fiercely, after a time.

She knows that's another lie, but she does entertain it, for a moment.

The other thing, of course, is choice. She's had her own choice of who to love ripped from her. Could she do that to Jaskier?

"Have a seat," she sighs, "I'll be back."

"Yen--"

"I said," she snaps, "I'll be back. Sit. Don't make me say it again." He sits. She leaves.

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

"He what?"

"He's worried you're dead, apparently," she says, feigning disinterest as she examines her nails.

"And you just--" he waves his arms about for emphasis, "didn't say anything and left?" His tone is incredulous.

She purses her lips and qirks an eyebrow--isn't that what I just said?

"Fuck. Yeah, yes, okay. Um."

"Breathe, Jaskier."

He takes a quick, shallow breath, something edging close to hyperventilating. "Fuck, okay, I'll talk to him."

"You don't have to," she says. Don't leave me she thinks.

"No, I do," he sighs, leans forward to catch her hand in his. A few months ago she would have turned him into a beetle for that. Now-- "Don't look so sad, Yen, darling."

"Shut up, bard." He's going to leave, like everyone else. Let go.

"I'm not going anywhere yet," he says, like he's the one who can read minds here.

"You don't have to stay," she shakes her head, pulls her hand back, too gentle.

"I know."

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

"Here," Yennefer waves behind herself dismissively as she reenters the room. Geralt sits up straighter. Behind her, Jaskier bounces a little anxiously on the balls of his feet.

"Fuck," he mumbles when he catches sight of Geralt over her shoulder, "you didn't say he looked so bad."

"Thought that was a given," she answers without looking. Geralt's gone very, very still.

"Yen--"

"He's been here since we left," she answers before he can ask. She can see him swallow from across the room. They’re eyeing each other, something in Geralt’s gaze she’s never seen before. It reaches into her chest and twists. "I'll leave you to it."

She leaves. No one stops her.

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

Jaskier is the one to come find her, after.

"He said you didn't want to see him again," he says as he settles into the chair opposite her. She's been--not hiding, she wouldn't call it hiding--in her study since she left them alone about an hour ago now.

"I don't," she agrees.

"You still love him, though," he says, soft and understanding. She puts the book she's been trying to distract herself with down, looks directly into his eyes.

"I do. I still don't know how real it is."

"Yen--"

"It doesn't matter. We're--" she cuts him off, shakes her head, "we're not good for each other, Jaskier."

"And he and I are any better?" he asks quietly. His words cut, draw blood. She's had the thought before herself.

"You deserve better," she tells him, eyes averted as she stares into the hearth fire.

"Aw, you do care," he coos, soft. Then, a lot more seriously, "you deserve better too, Yennefer."

She shrugs one shoulder, dismissive. "I do," she answers faintly. It isn't convincing even to her own ears.

"Yen--"

"I want someone to need me," she says, thinking back to what she told Geralt, on the mountain. Before things fell apart. "More than anything."

"That's why--" he trails off, doesn't finish. They both know what he means.

"Yes."

"You don't have to have a child to be needed, Yen. I've needed you, this whole time. You know that, don't you?"

"And now you don't," she says, trying not to sound bitter. He’s leaving, like everyone else. Found something better. They both are, this time. (It hurts, gods does it never stop hurting?)

"No," Jaskier shakes his head, gently, "just what I need is different."

"And what do you need now, bard?" She twists to face him fully, expression hard. She doesn't appreciate his lies.

"I need you to be there, when Geralt inevitably fucks up again. To listen. To talk to." It's not the same, but-- "I do love you, Yen."

"You're awful," she tells him, eyes downturned. There's a warm feeling surging in her chest, something tender and delighted, licking warmth melting the cold ice feeling of dread. He believes what he’s telling her--it’s the truth.

"I love you too," he smiles, eyes bright. "Are we good?"

She sucks in a deep breath. "We're good, bard." The smile that lights his face is radiant, perfect. In another universe, she might have loved him, the same way she might have loved Geralt, untainted by the djinn wish. The difference is that this is still clean, untouched by magic. It's not the deep, romantic love she's longed for since she was a child, but it's milder, truer. She believes him in a way she's never quite believed anyone else before.

If you love it, let it go. He may be leaving, but he'll be back.

#witcher #witcher fic #lizard writes

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord - Nobody loves me like you

It was so late it felt like time itself had passed out, that void somewhere in the AM between being tired enough to fall asleep where you stand and feeling the nervous energy of dawn approaching.

The air in the Mechanicum was crisp with night chill when the E-Dev in her pocket vibrated, and Saint Ur-Machina's heart sunk in her chest as she grimaced under her welding mask. No need to check who it was, she'd known before he'd even sent the message.

The God-King was angry.

She sighed, rubbing oily hands into oilier overalls, and frowned at how pointless a gesture trying to clean them had been at all, picking bits of filth out from under her nails as she leaned against the rough wall of the hangar. Pointless maybe, but a distraction, and Seifa needed one of those right now.

The God-King was angry with himself, and that meant the people he cared about the most would take the rage.

The workfloor clock read 3:56AM where it hung from the rafter above her station, clunky ticking echoing across the empty bay. No one but her still working, and she shouldn't really have been there either considering the hour, but that had stopped feeling like it mattered a long time ago. She was always there now. Always working, like she haunted the place. Funny, she used to be so good about managing her time...

The welding mask threw a cloud of sawdust as it bounced across the floor towards the machine she'd kicked it at. She didn't even know what to call the horrible thing that loomed in front of her, some juggernaut of sleek metal she'd been ordered to run performance checks on, jagged lines illuminated by the sickly floor lamps she'd arranged around its skeleton.

Warmachines. Unnamed projects with stacks of paperwork marking them as highly classified, Troy's insignia and the same word she kept seeing over and over in confidential documentation - Uroboros. Tasted like a bad idea, reeked of poor decisions, and she'd always sniffed those out like a Skag.

What the hell did Seifa A'Rosk know about warmachines anyway? They used to build Technicals here, outriders. COV custom Cyclones for stream events, this wasn't what she signed up for, none of it was. Managing the engineering crew should never have shifted into whatever the fuck THIS was.

The steel monster in front of her bled oil silently into the sawdust, refusing to give an answer. Whatever this was, it was for Gods and Sirens, and that was a world she wasn't part of, not really. She wasn't a Saint, she was just a ghost, caught repeating the same mistakes over and over till she faded away.

The E-Dev in her pocket vibrated again, and she tapped the back of her head against the plate steel wall, trying to convince herself she wasn't ready to vomit as she squinted up towards the hangar's ceiling, lost to the night murk the lights around her couldn't quite cut through.

She figured she should answer, making him wait was just going to make this worse.

Jak-Knife had already warned her, a curt ping earlier today to "sstay ou t of his way it s bad seiifa". Ven too when he'd dropped by in the afternoon with the excuse of worrying about if she'd eaten yet and half a bag of something spicy and dripping in grease. He'd said the Cathedral staff were noose tight and whispering nervously about an incident a few hours before, something had gone wrong in a talk with visiting sponsors - with the twins. Word on the rumour mill was it had nearly turned vicious, the suits looking ready to brick themselves as they'd all but ran through the meeting room's doors after Troy had flung them open hard enough to unhinge one, and according to priests who'd been on hand? Tyreen had really embarrassed him.

Sei had winced as Ven explained, both painfully aware of this behaviour pattern and what it meant for everyone he was close to. Why the God Queen had been going out of her way to put her brother down in front of high-value clients recently was impossible to guess - no one could really get into her head or understand her decisions lately, but this wasn't the first time, and if anything it was getting worse. Little insults. Little knife-sharp jokes that weren't jokes at all, and mockeries masked behind a paper thin smile like it made them less deadly. She'd imply he was a burden, or undermine his expertise in ways so cleverly worded that the officials would have no choice but to laugh awkwardly as Troy seethed while his twin continued with negotiations.

Today she'd apparently told him to make himself actually useful and fetch their guests some drinks, right in front of servant crew and moments after he'd finished a grueling breakdown of growth projections and profit expectations for this quarter to a rapt audience. It's hard to tell if him snapping had actually surprised her or had been exactly what she wanted, but the staff who'd been there were terrified, and insisted the Vault Mother had looked genuinely shocked when the desk he threw had missed her head by barely a few inches.

He'd stalked out of the meeting and vanished into the upper cloister, and now it was the middle of the night and her E-Dev pinged for a third time.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe out the fear coiling through her ribs in a shaky exhale. She knew exactly what was happening, it was the same as always with him. Enraged, dripping with self-loathing, and lost somewhere in that toxic mood somewhere between vicious and pitiful - looking for something to hurt, looking for a way to vent the pain as he paced like a snarling monster, muttering like he was arguing something with himself, a back and forth of accusations and desperate apologies to something no one else could see.

Tyreen couldn't eat him alive with her powers but she could do it with her words... and maybe that's what had changed. Maybe she'd realised a new way to control her twin with manipulations that left him so emasculated and damaged in confidence that he wanted to tear something he loved apart just so he could turn the hatred on himself after.

Of course it was going to be her.

The same dance every time now, the same frustrating steps that she'd memorised by this point, trying to break him out of his deadly spiral as he'd rant at rave at her, till he'd attack her somehow, then skulk into the shadows when he was done foaming at the mouth, leaving her to carry everything he'd piled onto her shoulders - the threats, the hate, the aggression, only to beg for her forgiveness the next day and be ignored.

He'd spend a week desperately apologising, showing how much he understood how pathetically wrong what he had done had been, sending ridiculous gifts to the mechanicum where he knew they'd have to be accepted under his sigil, reassure over and over in messages that it wouldn't happen again, that he'd just been under so much pressure, that he'd just snapped, that it wasn't right and she hadn't deserved it and how much her friendship mattered.

The E-Dev pinged one last time, and Seifa straightened, dusting off her overalls and adjusting the toolbelt slung around her waist.

God-King Calypso demanded a sacrifice - self harm masked as a blade he'd lash at someone he loved so it would cut him all the deeper. She'd take it, better her than someone else. She could handle him.

She always had.

It was raining again, felt like that hadn't stopped at all this month. Pandora had wet seasons, it's just that the water never seemed to go anywhere. The acrid dust absorbed it almost as fast as it could fall, but in the city it flooded the streets as it rushed down gutters. Neon light reflected from gaudy signs in pools of colour that swam across the uneven paving stones as she slowly made her way towards the Cathedral, a waterproof canvas thrown around her shoulders protecting from the downpour.

Even at this time of night, the city was still alive. It never really stilled anymore, too many deals going down in alleys and money changing hands in clubs for it to ever actually sleep, and as she picked her way past huddled locals far too engrossed in their own business to pay her any mind, Seifa wondered when it was things had changed like this.

This place had been a shanty town, hadn't it? When she'd arrived to take over the engineering division there had been maybe one, two thousand COV followers camped around the cathedral in rickety shelters. Bandits mostly, erecting camps and functional living quarters with expertise alien to any outsider. It was a city now, fuck, it was a metropolis. She'd overseen the building of half of the major apartment systems in the inner ring around the holy quarter, so how did it still feel like it had grown of out nowhere?

Sei huffed out a steamy breath into the chill night air as the cathedral began to come into view, bass music and laughter fading as it was swallowed into the drumming of the rain on the buildings she left behind her.

She used to be so proud when she saw it, the awesome majesty of its twisted spires and jutting angles framed against the rocky outcrop that loomed behind it. Nowadays it just looked like something grotesque, a mirror of what it contained maybe. The COV was rotting from within, and everyone knew the source.

She'd been warned by friends more willing to face the harsh realities of the twin's decline that time was running out.

Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now, it didn't matter why it was going to happen, just that it would, and as much as she hated admitting it to anyone, Seifa knew she wasn't strong enough to do this much longer.

He was killing her.

Anything could set him off now, it was constant. Numbers under-performing this week, an underhanded comment from Tyreen that tipped the balance, not enough sleep, too many stims, not gaining weight, an article mocking his appearance, anything. It could have been any of them he had summoned, her, Ven, JK, the why or who was inconsequential because the desired outcome was always the same.

Troy wanted to hurt himself, not them, but he didn’t know how. The pressure would build and build till he broke down, lost logic, went wild-eyed and shaking in barely controlled rage. He hated being Troy Calypso so much there were times he wanted to tear his own skin off, he'd told her as much on nights alone and open in shared sadness, but there was no escape. It was this, or starving in a manner she couldn’t even comprehend, and when he'd asked before if maybe that would be the better option?

...She'd not known what to say. She'd failed him then, tripping over the words catching in her lungs as he desperately waited for an answer that would make sense of things, and she'd never been able to give one. Just sat next to him as they both sank deeper into the trap of their titles and the horrible reality that there was no clear way out.

He was waiting in the throne room for her, just like she'd imagined. Pacing back and forth across the dias as the city light streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting sharply off the rattling gold spines his ritual gear was decorated with as he moved.

She'd stood in silence, watching, trying to catch what he was asking himself as he'd snap a muttered retort in spite, but not able to ever make out the questions. Like an animal snared in gilded chains she figured, or something else maybe - an idol pretending to be something living? A shiver had ran through her as she waited for him to turn his frantic attention to her, quietly waiting for the blow to come. No one had even been there to greet her or open the doors to the throne room, they were ajar, the staff knowing better than to risk being in his presence when he was like this... she smirked, knowing better than her, anyway.

He'd shifted attention to her so smoothly it felt like the rant he'd been hissing to himself just continued directly into her as he'd turned, beckoning her closer with a quirk of those horrible claws. She'd bit her lip and swallowed down how much that enraged her, being summoned like a fucking dog when this man so often made clear he viewed himself as dirt in comparison to her, but months of dealing with him had tempered the reaction. Easier to go along with it, placate him, nod and let him vent out the bile till he realised how much of a fucking asshole he was and came crawling back later.

It was the same dance as usual, the exact same steps. She could feel where he was going with each shift in direction, jumping topic to topic in an attempt to place blame and becoming more enraged with each simple refute she could offer. She never made it easy, that wasn't her nature in the end, she'd calmly reply back to each accusation with logic that left him shaking harder as the fury built, like a caged predator or roid-mad Psycho desperate to attack but not getting the opening. She could play this game for hours, long enough to make sure he worked for the satisfaction, even if it left her exhausted.

She'd always been petty, after all.

He threw snarled jabs at Mechanicum performance, raised complaints that she knew weren't true, accused "concerns" about output she could disarm easily, the same as always, till suddenly he shifted.. and everything went wrong.

She could handle him with spines raised and teeth bared, she could stand unflinching as he aimed blows that he never really landed, but she hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly relax. He'd stood straight, rolling the weight of the prosthetic on a shoulder all casual and friendly like suddenly he wasn't seething under the grin his snarl melted into, and she'd felt a jolt of fear. This was something new, this was something... worse, she could feel it like electricity crackling up her spine, and for the first time that night her heart began to pick up a stuttered pounding as cool sweat beaded down her back. He took a step closer, and for just a second, there was a question flittering across the back of her mind that screamed something she couldn't ignore before it vanished into her practiced calm.

For a split second, Seifa questioned if this was Troy.

"You know, it's funny, Sei..."

She opened her mouth to warn him to stop, the atmosphere was at fever point, he was going to go too far, something in how terrified his eyes looked against he vicious curve of his smile sent panic through her chest.

"Troy" her voice cracked "Come on, Troy you know you shouldn't keep going, this is -"

He cut her off with a tsk and raise of a bladed finger, bending to lower his face closer to hers from where he towered above her.

"Rude Seifa, I was talking."

He was near enough to feel the body heat glowing from his chest, and her voice choked in her throat as the point of a talon tapped gently against her nose as if he was chiding some kid.

"Funny isn't it?" He cooed, and it wasn't.

"You used to have so much time for me, didn't you. We used to really spend time together..." the lack of his stutter was a warning she knew him too well to ignore.

"... but nowadays you're so desperate to get out of my presence that I can literally see your skin crawl while you're forced to be around me. It's happening right now Sei... ain't it."

That was a lie, and she wanted to slap his hand away from where it pointed towards her chest, push him back towards the throne behind him and tell him how stupid an attack that was. She's always had time for him, she gave him infinite time, she gave him so much of herself that she'd been crumbling, she wanted to tell him the truth of it, that how much she gave him had been killing her, but she couldn't, he didn't give her the chance.

"You've got allllll the energy in the world for your little friends though, don't you. You've got laughter and happiness to pour all over them, fill them up with, show them how much you care, but not me, not anymore. And you know, that's got me thinking recently!"

The smile was fake but the monster behind it wasn't. He may as well have been snarling, and she was fully aware he wasn't really attempting to hide that at all.

He stepped a fraction closer again, close enough for her to reach and press a warning hand against his chest as he leaned further down to meet her eyes, the veneer of his calm cracking under the weight of the now haggard, panting breathes he whistled through that vicious smile, the terror in his eyes. She didn't understand any of this, why was he so afraid when it was him pressing this onwards, why was he so panicked when the act was so calm? His skin was like fucking fire under her hand and the push she gave to try and move him back did nothing.

"Made me realise, maybe I was never your friend really - maybe I was just something you held onto like a lifeline in the storm of your shitty life choices, huh?" She felt tears rise, this wasn't fair, this was too real now, this was being aimed at his friend not his employee, but he wouldn't stop.

"Taken for a ride while you lead me on all these years. That would explain it, right? How much you got for them, how much you'll give them, when I'm just a burden to you. Or..."

His mouth was next to her ear and she wanted to beg him to stop before it was too late, before he did what she knew he was about to do. To stop before he decimated everything, but the words were caught behind the sob she refused to let spill as he drove the knife home with one last twist.

"Maybe the real problem here Seifa, is they are more than friends, hmm? Because that's your real operation method, isn't it. That's how you get what you want, everyone knows it. Maybe they met your standards, but you just never saw me as good enough to fuck."

The crack of his jaw against her fist echoed through the stone throne room for long enough to make the silence that came after all the more horrible.

She remembers that, that noise and the pain ripping through her hand in burning waves, but she doesn't really remember the rest.

She doesn't fully remember what she saw, the flash of those glaring, monstrous eyes that burned down on them both as Troy reeled in horrified shock, cradling his face in confusion like he couldn't understand why she'd just hit him, she doesn't remember the flicker of Siren wings or the laughter that echoed somewhere in the back of her mind but made no sound.

It's a daze. Whatever he whispered pleadingly after, teary-eyed and shaking, she didn't hear.

She doesn't remember leaving and how she stormed down the Cathedral halls and into the freezing night air, doesn't remember who saw her or if clergy had been there. Doesn't remember the way she'd mindlessly picked towards the hi-rise Ven's quarters were in before realising she was walking the wrong way, or how effortlessly she'd flipped the ignition in her ship, or how prepped she'd been to jump out of Pandora's orbit soon as she hit safe distance, doesn't remember any of it.

But the pain in her hand and the look in his eyes after, she fucking remembers that.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #sbsart

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

An Interlude — Me, ‘Yourself,’ I

Two Masters pick up another ‘them.’

Many other ‘them’ — of times and Masters long gone, each filling each other’s roles in stories meant to be the same.

Like a play filled with understudies, where the choice in lead actor changed everything —

...Then, what to do about that?

<Pt. 1/???>

featuring story from @hasbbdoneanythingwrong + @hasquetzdoneanythingwrong

"...It's you."

A being from his dreams, a being beyond rational description.

A Singularity had appeared, hadn't it? One only recently, showing its face, a remnant of what should've been destroyed.

The coward believed such a thing was the only cause of a being haunting his dreams. A shapeless, formless, yet all-encompassing, formed being, that threatened to vanish from his sight and take him over, simultaneously.

And its words, too-

▓▒░▓▓▄▀▌▌▐█▒

Made no sense.

No, nothing the being said would mean a thing to the cowardly Master, and yet it made sense all the same. Two opposite extremes, filling him not with the words it spoke, but the emotion those unspeakable tongues filled in his mind.

"...I don't understand. I... I don't get it at all."

No, so much 'strange' had occurred, in a matter of mere days. A Servant had spoken of a world not unlike his own, another Chaldea, and another Master. Then, replaced soon after, by a Quetz who spoke of it only as a faint dream, barely recalled, but fondly looked back on.

And mere days afterwards, this thing -- that which now sought to fill him with unending fear, and discomfort, as it held itself within him, seeking to spread itself within his mind like a comforting, but foreign virus to the human conscious.

╟╧╜╚╕╘╧╨╪╬╗

...His heart, suffocating under the mass of the 'it,' that threatened to encompass his entire being, envelop it into itself--

...Yet, its words made its way to his mind, before the cowardly Master forced himself to wake with a bite to his finger.

Y o u a r e n o t a l o n e . S e e k T H E M .

...The being, so foreign, spoke now as if the Master himself were speaking to 'him' in a mirror.

...The seeping, crawling feeling faded in an instant, as the familiar 'My lord!' awoke him from his slumber.

With Da Vinci fussing over something in the other room, surely preparing to announce the time of their Rayshift, the cowardly Master made a beeline for somewhere -- someone -- he knew would help.

"Oh, hell no."

Ritsuka had spent a solid five or six seconds just laughing incredulously, before their eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak.

"--I'd heard it from... something. Ritsuka, we already know they exist, and... We need to know what they're up to. If they're allies, we need to get their aid, and..."

"It's not that."

Ritsuka interrupted my speech by placing a finger over my mouth. Breathing out, they placed their index finger on their temple, as if trying to formulate what they were to say next.

"Thing is, Cadence, we have a serious problem with time stuff right now. We already have a sudden Singularity that's just happened, despite our best efforts, and your first idea is to go check other timelines? And off the advice of a weird thing that appeared in your dreams after the Singularity was formed, no less!"

Ritsuka breathed a long, drawn out sigh out, as I took the opportunity to get a word in.

"This time stuff is something we can take advantage of, especially because we've just achieved a sort of contact with it. Remember Quetzacoatl? She was acting as if she were in a different Chaldea entirely, for the day we summoned her, until her Spirit Origin 'shifted.' All things considered, we need to check up on that."

Placing a finger to my neck to calm myself, lightly scratching its side, Ritsuka waited a moment before responding.

"...Listen, if you're right, we can't do this willy-nilly. You know full well how dangerous this is. But..."

...Ritsuka shook their head, raising their hand in what I could only assume was the brief consideration of punching themselves in the face.

"...You're not the type to take stupid risks. The fact you're not avoiding this like the plague says to me that you've got something in mind. After all these things we've seen up to now... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I guess we'll have to look at even more time shit."

...The Master laughed, in disbelief, before turning on their heel and beginning to move south.

"...I think, if anyone's going to know about this, it's going to be a certain Moon Cancer."

"--You're not seriously thinking of going to her for advice, right?!"

"Less advice, Cadence, more a way to figure out what the hell has been happening outside our little bubble. I doubt we'll be able to see everything, but even just a little bit will do. It'll tell us who our allies might be if we end up forced to one of their worlds."

Ritsuka raised their hands over their head, stretching themselves out and yawning loudly to get out the slight ache of sleeping on a Chaldea bed.

"...Or, if a Singularity forces us into contact with them," he continued with an awkward laugh, "we need to figure out who won't kill us on sight."

...Turning a corner of Chaldea's hallways, he'd knock upon a very certain door -- greeted by a purple-haired lady, smiling wide, with a gaze best described as a mixture between intimidating, venomous, yet also fairly innocent for the moment. "Why, if it isn't my favourite senpais. What brings you here so soon? Ritsuka, you usually at least wait 'til noon to try out some BB slots."

The lady took her seat on her bed, resting her chin on her right hand and raising an eyebrow -- turning an ear to the two of us.

"No slots today, sadly. BB -- I'd like you to help us understand other people."

"...Other people? Senpai, you're not exactly lacking in the social department. Although, C--"

"--Not like that," I quickly clarified, if only to save my own pride. "We're looking to understand people from... different Chaldeas, if that makes any sense."

...At that, BB's eyes widened, if only for a moment -- then smiled, with a sort of distinct softness, before it returned to its usual mischievous aura.

"Is that so..? You're sure about this, right, Senpai~? Surely you wouldn't wish to be jealous of Masters better off than you two."

Before I could respond -- frozen just for a moment at hearing that -- Ritsuka piped up in my place.

"Yeah, we're alright with that. At day's end, we want to see other people like us. What they've done, and... If they'd be allies for us, should we somehow meet."

...The mischievous lady only nodded, before placing a floating screen just in front of them.

"If that's the case, I have no choice but to show you all the other Senpais out there! ♥"

...And, mere moments after -- our first sight showed its face.

"--You vermin should know that I am the only one who can hurt my centipede!"

An annoying voice, marked with an angered 'sigh' that would've made most anyone's hairs raise on end.

Yet, to the Master they now saw, such a voice could bring only the brightest of smiles. Two beings of seeming opposites, giving each other a knowing glance before a wave of confidence enveloped them both.

With the casual smile only a devil could muster, the Moon-Cancer made short, easy work of the mere beasts in their way. The icy wasteland, seeping away at the Master's bones, did little to harm the sense of warmth that seemed to envelop them both.

"Now, now, Quin," the lady spoke with a chuckle, "don't get too happy yet~! There's a cave to hang out in not too far away -- we can talk there!"

Quin -- That was the Master's name. A spare glance at their BB's face told them all they reckoned they had to know -- in place of her devilish grin, remained a mischievous -- yet warm, glowing smile.

The moment they fled into an otherwise dark, empty cave, Quin collapsed to tears -- perhaps in part of fears that could only come from traversing a Lostbelt alone, but seemingly mostly of relief.

"How... H-How did you get here..?!"

Through sobs, the Master spoke, as the Moon-Cancer only smiled, and laughed, crouching down beside her Master.

"Quinny, I'm hurt~! You should know by now that I can pretty much do whatever I want."

Neither Master observing the event could truly understand the pain she went through just to reappear at the side of her Master -- but Ritsuka, sparing a glance to look at the BB that manifested there, saw teary eyes, and a soft smile.

...The face of someone who had almost certainly been through hell.

Cadence focused upon the Master themselves, finding himself awed. A Master who, despite all that remained against her, found herself with allies that wouldn't so easily give up and leave her. A Master who, though almost assuredly afraid, still stood up and kept pushing forward. And a Master who stayed with the Moon-Cancer who seemed as if she was her exact opposite, as both impacted each other permanently.

"...That was Quin, senpais~!"

Spending a moment holding a hand to her eyes, BB soon returned to her usual self -- Ritsuka only smiled, but didn't elaborate on it any further.

"...That was..."

...She seemed to be a good person. A 'hero' -- even allied with someone considered evil, she...

...She was a hero. In her own right, she was a hero -- even if she were afraid, she still pushed forward, and fought with the bravery of a hero.

"...Well, we probably have one ally, Cadence.”

Ritsuka smiled a bit, as if to ease me of something I'd not realized I had, before returning to the Moon-Cancer.

"What's our next sight, then?"

To that, the Servant only winked, before another screen enveloped their sights.

"...Hey."

A black-haired man, narrowed eyes at two writers not far in front of him.

No time for grief, for there was still something to do. The eyes of a man who had a plan -- even if far out, one he would place his faith in.

Those eyes -- sharpened, fire sprouting within that pupil of his -- were eyes of sheer determination.

"If you can turn fantasy into reality, how about we pull a Moriarty on me?"

A sentence truly outside the realm of 'reality' -- one that caused Cadence to recoil in shock. Yet, the cowardly Master still found himself leaned in to listen, as the other Master beside him smiled and nodded to themselves.

Mash, turning to face the black-haired Master, raised her eyebrows in some form of confusion.

"--Huh..? Senpai, what are you talking about?"

"Moriarty has that gun from that one German story. If the authors here can do something similar to help me, then..."

...The Master spent a moment in thought, but it certainly wasn't one spent in hesitation. No -- both observing Masters knew the look well.

It was one of focus, and of finalizing their plan. It brought back memories of Reines, of Chen Gong, and of El-Melloi.

"...That doesn't sound outside the realm of possibility."

The taller author -- Murasaki, at a closer glance -- spent a few seconds staring upwards in thought before replying. The smaller author, surely Hans, stared at his colleague and Master with a mixture of incredulity -- and, just as much, curiosity.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Let me see if I can find what I'm looking for."

To this, the Master flicked his fingers delicately from a row of comic books situated carefully on a shelf, up until he pulled a certain issue out, as if it were made for this very moment.

"--This! This, here."

Opening the comic to a specific page, as if he'd done this a thousand times before, he placed his finger upon one panel in specific -- a planet made of dark ooze, its inhabitants slimy parasitic creatures.

A middle-of-the-road author, almost assuredly Shakespeare, took a close look, and smirked, as the Master elaborated.

"Symbiotes. From Marvel."

As the determined Master watched the author's expressions, Shakespeare decided -- as usual -- to be among the first to speak.

"Interesting."

...Hans, meanwhile, twisted his face into a frown.

"...I'm not sure how I feel, adapting a modern work like this."

"Just do it. I'll be able to save her with those powers."

The Master only furrowed his brow, his voice taking on a slight firmness to it. Andersen picked up on that tone of voice -- one of someone who had already weighed their options, and one that had already decided their fate. The author silenced himself for the time -- at times like this, even he recognized that he had to put his author's code to rest.

"Senpai... Is this really a good idea?"

Mash spoke carefully, placing her words best to try and ensure her friend had thought it through. She had faith in his idea, the observing Masters could tell, but it was certainly best to avoid acting rashly.

"...I need to save her, Mash."

The Master, certainly, had already made his decision. As he elaborated, Mash's concerned expression shifted to a soft smile -- assured that, at least, he was sure of this action. If he held faith it’d work, then she felt she could as well.

"I hate being without her. And I want to skewer the fools who took her away."

...Murasaki, at that, only nodded.

"I can see the pain he's feeling. We... should help."

...At his fellow authors' words, Hans raised his hands up, and grinned awkwardly.

"Fine, we'll turn you into an alien monster. But it likely won't stick when this Singularity's fixed."

"So long as I get my wife back, I'm fine with it."

The gaze of the Master said it all -- he would stop at nothing to find, and save, someone he loved.

Suddenly, to the two observing Masters -- the sheer determination of this Master, even as he requested a possibly dangerous procedure, now only made sense.

...He, too, had something to protect.

The Moon-Cancer smiled, for a moment, before closing her screen.

"That, Senpai, was Rex. A Master who managed to tame even a lady like Quetzacoatl~!" Ritsuka gazed back at me, the look in his eye saying it all.

"...That was his Quetzacoatl?!"

Of course, his incredulous statement immediately after solidified things -- as, giving it some thought, I'd realized myself what had happened.

"...Well, now I feel a bit bad, summoning Quetzacoatl like that. Probably should've used a catalyst that wasn't a T. Rex plushie."

As Ritsuka casually said something that made even BB perform a double take, my mind fell a little bit -- as I tried to make heads or tails of that Master.

'...That man... Despite a situation so grim that he had to alter his own body, and add a Phantasmal Spirit to its structure... He didn't look fearful at all.'

No -- it wasn't fearlessness. That was sheer grit, made only stronger by what was on the line. His sharp tone, the fire in his eyes, wasn't from foolish aggression or rashness -- it was from a man whose life and love were all on the line. A man who knew how bad the situation could get, and one that could swallow their fear and fight for the sake of someone they loved.

'...No wonder she was so insistent on finding him.'

The horrible taste of jealousy caught in my throat -- my eyes closed, seeing only that fiery gaze.

...That was bravery.

...My eyes flipped between screen after screen -- Rex' fiery gaze, and his risky yet high-reward plan just to save his lover. Quin's emotional strength in the heat of the moment, holding out and fighting long enough to find safety, being such a kind Master that even one like BB would cherish her.

'...Compared to them...'

...That jealousy, that surrounded my neck, tightening it and stealing my breath away. Envy at their strength, where I had lacked it.

Those -- were heroes. Those were the people that would surely save their 'Chaldea.'

...Certainly, I knew my own weaknesses -- but it only became clearer, where I stood.

"...Cadence, I think he's an ally. Whaddya think?"

But the jealousy cleared itself from my neck as Ritsuka shouldered me lightly, and as a hand formed itself upon my shoulder. Silent though it was, I knew that grip as well as the back of my hand.

"...He's no Genji."

...An approving voice -- Ushiwakamaru, doffing her mask and blindfold and sitting just beside me.

"...He fights our fight. An enemy of the Genji is a friend of mine."

...That jealousy wouldn't so easily leave me -- but I only allowed my mind, for a moment, to recognize my own strengths.

Even if I paled in comparison to these two heroes, I still had something.

"...I think he's an ally, too, Ritsuka. Maybe a little blunt, but... I've only ever seen a gaze like that in you."

The Master beside me scoffed.

"Are you kiddin' me, chief? I don't think I've seen anyone so determined to help someone. And seeing as how you're showing us that, BB, I assume he succeeded."

"Correct~! Both of these two are just as alive as you are. And, y'know, this isn't the end of our marathon."

...Ritsuka raised an eyebrow.

"Jeez, just how many saviours of humanity are there? I find it hard to believe so many Earths got the crap end of the stick."

"You'd know if you counted to infinity, senpai~! I'm only showing you the ones you'll probably meet. I snuck a little charm into that Quetz' pocket, you see, and now you're linked~!"

...

"What."

Ritsuka took approximately five seconds before responding.

"It was just a bit of stomach medication. A little baggie I gave her. I don't even think she knows it's there."

...

"What."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding~! Maybe."

...As me, and Ritsuka, found ourselves completely sidetracked by what was best described as 'the worst thing we've heard in centuries,' BB clapped her hands together and began pulling up a few more screens.

"I call a little intermission~! All three of you, get some treats and come back later. I promise you'll love the next ones."

...

An ever-shining light, bypassing such simple screens, watched 'them' in their many, many seats.

Them who threatened to suffocate and take over 'them,' 'him,' but who satisfied themselves watching the production of Life.

The rakugo theatre intrigued them all -- as a lone 'it,' playing the parts of them all, laughed and dropped another punchline to the tale. Surely, a dramatic, comical, saddening, heartmelting, uplifting 'rakugo' --

...As the actors raised their hands to follow suit, and drive the coward into the next act of his performance, 'it' held up its fan and its cloth, waving the acting Masters to their next story -- to the next ochi.

▄▀▄██▌▌░█▓╨╨╜╓═

The ever-shining light laughs, and cries, and screams, and smiles gently.

The performance has only just begun.

#fgo #gudasona #mastersona #l o r e #cadenceloreposting #feat. quin and rex #also more foreshadowing because i love implying shit

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 4 years

Text

Cloudwalker Series Part 13

Okay this got split in half because it was like 3k words. Have more protective Avizon and a little Ihuka whump (mild beating).

Warnings: Mild beating, pet whumpee

Master-list Here Total WC: 1700

It wasn't long until Avizon's supplies began to dwindle. He needed to go back to town, to stock up and fill his cart. He decided to take the birds with him. They couldn't fly off, and he doubted they'd try to run. Ihuka had certainly learned this lesson. He'd been trying hard to please him since then. They'd earned a trip outside. Besides, he would need travelling supplies for when he went to the Great Library. He wasn't sure if he wanted to take his birds with him. Was it safer to seal them in the castle for the day or two he'd be gone? He was unsure.

But first things first, the market.

He went to their room and found that Dyan and Ihuka were asleep, a tangled mess of limbs, feathers and drool. Avizon couldn't help but smile. They'd settled in well overall, and they'd been far less trouble. Ihuka had his bad days still, but he found it was easier to set him off cleaning with Dyan and it seemed to work the resentment out of him that way. He couldn't afford to punish him much more. He was already so afraid of him. He thought he'd wanted a challenge, he thought he'd known what he wanted but things were changing every day. They were changing him... They reminded him more and more of his old self, before everything changed, before everything had been stolen from him.

His master’s words rang in his ears. This is dark magic you seek. It will corrupt you, it will change you for the worst and it will eventually kill you.

"Wake up, little birds. We have a long day ahead of us," he called.

Ihuka yawned and tried to hide under his wing to get more sleep.

"I saw that, Ihuka. Wake up, there's a good bird. I might even buy you a gift if you can behave yourself.” Dyan stretched his wings out and sat up, “Where are we doing today, master?” “We’re going to the market.” Dyan gulped. “You mean...” “No, no! Not that market, a different one, for food and supplies. Don’t worry, all is well.”

The tension in Dyan’s body visibly dropped away. Avizon petted his head. “Get dressed. I’ll see if there are any coats leftover from the servants.”

“You had servants?” Dyan asked softly. Avizon cleared his throat. “No, they were before I took over the castle.” Avizon’s attack that day had led everyone to flee, leaving everything behind. Even the purple and turquoise clothes they wore had belonged to cloudwalkers owned by the princess. He shuddered at the memories, the thought of past pains.

He shook himself out of it. “Get dressed,” he found himself repeating. “and wake Ihuka up. Meet me outside by the horse.” “Yes, master.”

Avizon paused for a moment, remembering Dyan had hurt his wrist the day before because he’d been cleaning so much. It wasn’t broken, just stiff and achy. “Is your wrist still hurting?” Dyan nodded meekly. Avizon ruffled his hair, “alright, take it easy.”

Avizon left them to it. He rummaged around in the empty bedrooms until he found a chest with cloudwalkers clothes in. He knew they had to be somewhere. The princess had always spoiled her pets, and yet beaten them when she felt like it. Looking back, he really pitied those creatures. The Princess had always had a terribly good arm for striking. He wondered what had happened to those two, Fluffy and Flutter, she had called them. What had been their real names? Where had they come from?... Perhaps he could make some inquiries when he was in the city.

He looked in the box, seeing what he could find. There were shoes that looked agonising to walk in, accessories of all descriptions. He took the two bandannas out, they could be helpful, and finally he found the coats with a lace-up back. He hoped they would fit. He could always buy them new things when he got there at least. He brought it all downstairs and outside, where his two cloudwalkers were waiting patiently.

He made two piles, one for Ihuka with the white coat with purple stitching and one for Dyan with the black coat and turquoise. He gave them the bandanna. “Put these on, then I will need to wrap your wings. I’m not having those vermin stealing your feathers.”

It took a while to get everything sorted to go. Ihuka liked having the bandanna hanging loosely around his neck once Avizon had tied it for him. Dyan was more nervous, but Avizon had an idea. He tied it around his wrist and tucked it all in neatly. “There, that should support it.” Dyan cheeped out a thank you. He let them both sit in the cart, with their leads secured to it. They took it as a chance to nap.

Avizon didn’t mind, it meant he could reflect without distraction. It seemed the past was determined to haunt him today. His horse nickered softly as she pulled the cart along. “Steady, Secret, steady girl.” She continued on her way, not caring for the rain that started. Avizon grumbled and pulled up his hood. Thunder clapped overhead, he heard a squeak from inside the cart and Secret looked unsteady. He worked on reassuring her. “It’s alright, little birds, no need to be afraid, we’re almost there.” The rain did mean that a lot of people had gone home, which meant this would be easier for him. He knew what to expect, he knew how the people were, but they feared him at least, and he could soon get them to scarper if he wanted to.

He brought the cart to a stop under a basic shelter, which kept the rain off his horse. He tethered her to the post and patted her neck. “Good girl. Steady now.”

He went to the back and untied the cloudwalkers, “You’ll have to come with me. I don’t want you getting stolen. Come on out.”

Dyan and Ihuka carefully climbed out, both looked unsure. He left their leashes short. He trusted them to stay by his side, but he didn’t trust the people. He urged them onward and brought them into the large wooden building where most of the stalls were. He set to work buying what he needed and much to his surprise, the cloudwalkers behaved. They followed him wordlessly, but Ihuka was tense, his head constantly moving. Dyan seemed used to this, but Ihuka was certainly not. He took a moment to pat his head. “Easy now.”

He bought what he needed, and the market owners would send their assistants out to pack his cart. The place emptied quickly, probably because he was here, but there were still half a dozen people or so. He relaxed the leashes, giving them more space to wander. He frowned when Ihuka’s suddenly went limp. When he looked, he quickly found the rope no longer held a cloudwalker on the end.

The rope had been cut.

“Ihuka?” he called out. He heard a yelp and a shout. “Nasty little thief! Go on, fuck off!” Avizon turned just in time to see one of the stall owners kicking Ihuka when he was on the ground. He glowered. “Come, Dyan.”

A second man came over to Ihuka, an older man that could have been the first’s father. He slapped the young man in the back of the head. “What the hell are you doing?” “It took from the stall!” the younger man defended. “Aye, and I’ve told you to usher it off and inform its owner to pay for the items. You don’t beat the fucking things, someone owns them! They’re animals, they don’t know how the stalls work.”

The older man crouched down to look at Ihuka but Ihuka shied away.

Avizon walked calmly to the stall, seeing Ihuka curled up. He whined seeing him and got on his knees, hugging his stomach. On the floor, he saw a piece of liquorice root. “Your greatness! I… I.Is this your pet? I. I. I had no idea!” the younger one exclaimed. Avizon ignored him. He crouched in front of Ihuka, opened his coat and moved up his shirt. He saw where he’d been kicked hard, it looked like it would bruise. Hopefully nothing more…

“Dyan, ask Ihuka what happened,” Avizon said, but he glared up at the young man who realised he had just made a terrible mistake.

Dyan did so and reported back. “He took a bit of the root, he said they use it in the wild, that he couldn’t resist it… It does smell so good, I...”

Avizon took a piece of liquorice root from the stall and started to chew it. He wasn’t keen on the taste, but he had a point to make. “Where’s my beating then, sir? Or are you suddenly not so keen?”

“Please, your greatness, I… Is there anything I can do to make up for my mistake?” the young man groaned in fear while the older one kept his distance. Avizon smirked. “Well, for one thing, I’ll have all of your liquorice root, and because you kicked my cloudwalker three times, you can half the price, the half it again, and then half it again.”

The older man did not seem too happy but he wasn’t about to argue. “Yes, your greatness. Could I offer you anything for the bird’s pain?” “Yes, and if I find any bones have cracked, then I will be giving this man the same treatment.” Avizon was in no rush, he tended to Ihuka, hushing him as he tried to check for breakages but Ihuka wriggled a lot and pushed his hands away. “M.master, no… please...” He lowered his head down and let out a weak mercy squeak.

Avizon gave up looking for now. He didn’t want to upset him too much. “You’re not in trouble, little bird.”

After Ihuka had chewed on some herbs for the pain, Avizon took a fresh piece of liquorice and held it out to Ihuka, who was still curled up on the floor, no doubt still afraid. He knelt down and brushed a hand through his hair. “On your feet, good boy.” He gave him the root and picked up his lead. He inspected it, seeing where it was clearly burned.

“M.master?” Dyan suddenly whimpered. Avizon turned to see Erix in the doorway glaring at them.

#Cloudwalker series #whump #beating #Ihuka #Dyan #Avizon #my writing #my ocs #feel free to throw things at Erix I hate him too

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loving-barnes · 4 years

Text

Winter’s Song (4) - Bucky Barnes x reader x Loki

(A/N): Yeah, yeah, I suck at writing and releasing new parts. Damn, it took me months to write Part 4. So sorry for the delay. I hope you will enjoy this one and I will do my best to write Part 5 asap.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Loki

Warnings: none

Words: 3200+

PART 4

“It this really happening?” the princess asked quietly while staring into a flame that was keeping her warm. It was different – being dressed in regular clothes suited for the poor. The fabric was rough on her skin, unpleasant but o the other hand, more comfortable. No corsets or tight undergarments. If the serfs could wear this on a regular basis, so could she.

“How did you find out?”

James came closer to her with a goblet filled with red wine and handed it to her. They were inside his house, hidden from the world since they escaped. The four of them, Wanda and Vision included, stayed the night, while they gave Y/N the much-needed rest. They promised her to reveal everything the next day.

She accepted it. “Wanda,” he sat down next to her. “She looked into their heads.” Before she could speak up, he continued. “Remember the last time I visited you in your room? Vision and she were sneaking in the hallways, talking to maids and servants. She had been doing this for some time now. That day, she found your sisters in the dining hall. She took the chance and investigated their minds. She was able to see and understand everything.”

“What made her sneak into their mind?” she was curious.

“We wanted to know why your sisters are so evil. We found out more things than we wanted.”

She chuckled and took a sip of the wine. “They are not even my sisters.”

“I know,” he gently stroked her cheek with a finger. “Your family is mysterious; the whole Kingdom is haunting, as people would say. That is why they love you so much – you are good, kind-hearted and always helped them.”

The door to James’ cottage opened with a bang and Vision came in, breathing heavily. “It’s happening. They are looking for her,” he informed them.

Y/N took a sip of the wine and put it on a wooden table next to her. “Are they scouring the village?”

“Worse,” he sighed. “The King is in the village too, accompanied by Loki.”

“Where’s Wanda?” James asked.

“Helping others around. The King has decided to use a bit of force.”

The princess shook her head. “No! They cannot suffer because of me.” She wanted to run outside but James grabbed her tightly around her waist. “Let me go, James, please. They cannot die because of me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. You haven’t heard the rest. The King wants you dead too.”

And she stopped fighting. “What?”

“We have to hide her before they arrive here,” Vision proposed. “I can take her somewhere for some time - to the mountains or the nearest sea. They cannot find her here or we all going to die.”

James looked into Y/N’s eyes and sighed. “Come back once the night arrives. They will be already gone,” he said. Without hesitation, he kissed her lips gently for goodbye and gave her to Vision. “Take care,” were his last words.

Vision formed a golden portal. On the other side of it were mountains covered in snow. He knew they would never be able to reach them there. To get to the mountains, the King’s guard would have to travel for two days. Y/N took Visions hand and together, they stepped inside. One last look to his beloved one and the portal closed behind them.

The future of the kingdom was in danger and so was Y/N. It was better this way. Will Vision tell her what Wanda saw or will he wait?

James ran outside to be met with several people running to and from the centre of the village. Neighing horses could be heard to his house; shouting filled with fear was almost ringing in his ears. After some time, he noticed Wanda, helping an older woman who was limping. She brought her to his house and sat her down on a stump.

“What’s happening?” he asked, quickly trying to help her with the woman.

“The King and his guard are searching for the princess,” she said. “Their houses are being raided and destroyed. And Loki is there, helping to find her. Go get some water.”

James obeyed, running for the water. He brought a bucket and a goblet. Wanda tore her dress for a piece of fabric so that she could soak it in the liquid and clean an open wound on the woman’s leg. “They will come here too. Be prepared.”

“The princess had run away?” the woman asked. “Or was she kidnapped?”

“She’s safe,” James said without thinking. “The King wants to,” and he stopped, realising he said too much.

Wanda was the one that finished the sentence. “...wants to kill her.”

“Why? Such a beautiful, young soul that wouldn’t hurt a fly,” she cried.

James looked around. The noise was coming to them. It was too late for them to leave. The King was arriving with his guard and Loki.

Remember, he is the God of Lies. He will know, Wanda sneaked into his mind.

The prince was sitting on a raven horse with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Wanda whispered to James.

The man went closer to the Royals, lowering his head as a sign of obedience and greeting. “My king,” it sounded bitter on his tongue. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He always knew what to speak.

The King took a deep breath and scanned the surroundings with his devilish eyes. “My youngest daughter is missing. Either she ran away, or she was taken by someone. I know she is not stupid enough to run away,” that made James bit his tongue, “so I believe someone very smart helped her get out.”

James stood his ground, trying to remain calm. “I do not know anything about your daughter, my King, but if you wish to look inside the house, please. I have nothing to hide.”

Loki scowled, tilting his head a little. “We shall have a look,” he said instead of the King and got down from his horse.

Wanda kept her mouth closed and was switching her eyes from the god to James. The way Loki was staring at her friend; the way he spoke to him was suspicious. As she said to James: he is the God of Lies. He knew he was lying.

She gasped loudly at the exact moment Loki’s real-self appeared behind James and put a dagger to his throat. The illusion disappeared in front of their eyes. “Do not ever lie to a God of Lies,” he said into his ear.

The King was already smirking and coming forward to the young smith. “Did you think we are that stupid?” he asked him. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out? You were just not expecting it to be that fast, right?” the King laughed. “Thanks to Prince Loki and his amazing power, he revealed and showed us all the secrets. He saw you in the castle, he saw you,” and then he turned to Wanda, “taking her away.”

The guards went into the house and started to trash it. Wanda kept the old woman by her side, protecting her when more men surrounded them. She kept looking at Loki who was threatening to slice James’ throat.

„Every soul that was helping you had been imprisoned and punished. Because of your stupidity, the villagers are suffering.”

“Where is she?” the prince yelled at him. “Where is Princess Y/N?”

“I do not know. However, she’s not here,” he said. “Keep looking but I swear you will not find her.”

The guard reached for the young maiden and separated her from the old woman. “No!” she screamed.

“Let her go,” Bucky shouted. “She did nothing wrong.”

“Didn’t she?” the King asked. “She was as much involved as you were.” The man came closer to James who kept his hands away from the body in the air, surrendering. “She too helped you get Princess Y/N out of the castle. Now, there is only one question – what should I do with you?”

Without replying, the King turned to Wanda and slowly approached her. He took a silver sword out of a leather case that was hanging by his side. He was ready to kill the young maiden. Wanda could almost hear his thoughts out loud. As loud as they were, she wasn’t afraid. She was ready to fight back and use her hidden abilities. One more step and she would hurt them all.

As the King was ready to swing the sword, an angelic singing came out of the forest. Was it the forest or the village? It was becoming stronger, more audible as if it was singing one of them. But the voice belonged to Y/N. Everyone would recognize it. There were no words, only her voice changing tones. Wanda took her opportunity and used her power to get rid of the guards that were holding her. She even helped the old wounded woman.

“Run, Wanda,” James screamed at her.

She listened. She knew there was nothing she could do to save him from the guards. There would be another opportunity, she hoped. Wanda wanted to take the woman with her but she refused. Once she was out of their sight, she used her power and disappeared.

The singing stopped.

“Arrest him and take him to the castle,” the King ordered. “Killing him would be his redemption. I want to make him suffer,” he hissed and put the sword back into the case. “The rest of you,” he pointed at those, that were hurt by Wanda but already back on their feet, dazed. “Search the village and the forest. Find Princess Y/N and bring her back to the castle.”

“How can you have such a cold heart, my King?” the old woman spoke up before they left her there. “We have always been nothing but obedient, supplying the castle with food and giving you our services. This is how you repay us?”

Loki sighed, obviously annoyed by the mortal. He spun on his heel and glared at her. “You are not permitted to talk to the King.”

“The King has brought fear and instability to this place by his actions. The only light we had was his daughter, Princess Y/N. Now, you want to get rid of this soul,” she continued. “You should be ashamed.”

The King gave Loki a look that spoke for him. The Prince formed a dagger in his hand and threw it at the woman. It stabbed her right into her heart.

“No!” James screamed, horrified. He didn’t expect they would kill her.

She fell on the ground dead. The guards left her there while they forced James to walk behind the King’s horse. An innocent one died because of King’s desire for power.

James lifted his head from the ground when he noticed golden shining coming from behind the dark clouds. At least one more time, he was able to see the sun shining. Or was it Sun?

…

When the portal closed, Y/N and Vision appeared on a cliff in the mountains. The air was cold, and snow was covering the ground. Now, she was glad for the clothes she wore. Even though they were uncomfortable, they kept her warm.

The view was incredible. They were surrounded by rocks and nothing but wilderness. Y/N stepped closer to the edge of the cliff and looked down. On the very bottom was a frozen lake. This was the better option for them. If the King would have decided to search for her everywhere, they would never be able to reach this point.

“I hope nothing happens to them,” she prayed.

“I can’t promise that to you, Y/N,” Vision answered. “If anything unexpected happens, Wanda and James will make a plan that we will follow once we are back.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” she was hesitating his statement. “The King is a heartless, brutal king. I’ve seen what he had done in the past. But I always thought that he fair to everyone around him. Obviously, I was wrong. As if I never truly knew him.”

Vision sighed. The whole situation was difficult for the princess, he understood that.

“Will you tell me more about what Wanda saw?”

“Do you think you can handle it now?” he was careful. “The truth is heavy and scary.”

She nodded. “I can handle it. I need to know more. What am I facing? How can I stop it?”

“We believe there is away, but we are not sure, the tales are true – if the tale your mother, the Queen, told is, is true.”

“My mother?” that surprised her.

“Yes,” Vision nodded. “You see, the real Winter’s day is coming – the most powerful day and night that comes once every year. That is the day when magic is brought to the world and you or even Wanda, James or I would become stronger. Unfortunately, the day they want to make the ball is known as Hell’s night. Demons, devils and dark magic can be brought to life that day, by sacrificing an angelic soul. Its death would give their murderers the power the dead soul possessed.”

“Or in other words, they want to kill me at the ball so that the King can have my power,” she put it together and her eyes locked with Vision’s. “And my mother knows? How did you even manage to talk to my mother? Is she on it too?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I talked to her the last night when you escaped,” he came clear. “She was helping us the whole time.”

“What?” her cheeks reddened. “That means she knows I am in love with a man that does not have royal blood,” she smacked her right cheek to wake herself up.

“She did,” Vision laughed. “She does not mind. That was why she was against you getting engaged to Thor or Loki. Because she knows about your love; she knows what is coming.”

Y/N hid her face into the palms of her hands. “She’s in danger because of me,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “She might die because of her secrets, of who I am.”

“Do not blame yourself, Y/N,” Vision touched her shoulder gently. “We can still win this fight. But in order to do you, you need to practise a little,” he suggested. “The time is coming, and you will have to show your people who you really are – a strong leader with a kind heart that is willing to protect the kingdom and its people from all enemies.”

She wiped the tears with her sleeve and nodded. “You are right. I need to protect everyone I love and care about. I need to protect the people of our kingdom.”

“Well,” he took a step back, giving her some space. “It’s been a while since you have shown what you are capable of,” he started slowly. “While we are waiting here, maybe a small practice would be beneficial for you.”

He was right. When was the last time she was able to let go of everything and spread her wings? When was the last time, she was able to be herself and not hide from everyone?

It was the day she secretly met with James in the deep forest. Those were the early days of their courting. That day she showed him her wings because she trusted him and loved him. No wonder he was calling her an angel.

“You are right,” she agreed. “I am never allowed to show my secret to anyone but you,” and she thought of James. Seeing him in her mind brought a smile to her lips.

Y/N started to walk around, breathing deeply the fresh cold air. Her cheeks were pink from the cold; the mind was wandering back and forth to James, Wanda, her father and her sisters, but also Loki. That man, that god, was too attracted to her – always tried to spend time with her. How could she ever beat a god?

Did Odin and his royal family know what her father is? What would they do if they found out? Maybe Odin would order to kill them all and declare this kingdom as non-existent. The killing was the answer – everyone was possessed by it. To kill meant to be dominant and powerful; making every living human terrified for their life.

Just let it go, Y/N. Nothing is holding you back.

The thought of everyone lying on the ground, covered in blood, boiled her blood. Imagining the King standing sitting on the throne, with his two devilish daughters, gave her motivation to fight back.

Her feet brought her back to the edge of the cliff. Y/N took a deep breath and sung out a single note. That note started to echo around them, vibrating throughout the mountains. When she changed the note to a higher one, Vision fell on his knees, being hypnotized. He knew how to get out of this state of mind, but it took him a minute.

Y/N turned it into an old song of their ancestors that consisted of an ancient language. It was an ode to nature, thanking it for their gifts and resources that it had provided to their country. Because of her unique voice, she was able to stupefy humans. An angelic voice that would put anyone down on their knees if it meant to a ceasefire.

When she hit the highest note possible, her wings appeared. They were shining like gold and sun, sparkling like water during hot summer days. It felt liberating, spreading it as wide as possible.

Vision was already standing up, amazed by her wings as always. He saw the change in Y/N’s eyes that turned golden every time she revealed her true self.

An angel. A warrior. A princess. A queen.

It made him bow down in front of her when she turned around and faced him. “Vision,” she said his name gently. “No need to do that. We are friends,” she showed him to stand.

“If only they could see what I see.”

“What if,” she hesitated, scared to say it out loud. “What if this is all I can do? How can I protect my people with such a simple thing as a voice and wings? That is not enough.”

“Everything takes time, Y/N. Maybe, it will rise when the time is right, and you too are ready. It may all seem symbolic, but we both know there is much more inside of you.”

Her wings waved one more time, creating strong wind around them. They were powerful. She laughed at the thought when James once wanted to hide in them. She was able to hide both of their bodies, while the golden feathers protected them from the world.

“We should head back,” Vision said after some time. “The night is almost here. We have to discuss the rest.”

Her wings slowly hid behind her and disappeared from their eyes. She took Visions hand and waited from him to make the portal. She wanted to be with James, in his arms so much even though they were separated for a moment.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader x Loki #Bucky x reader #Bucky x reader x Loki #Loki x reader #Loki Odinson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Bucky Barnes x princess!reader x Loki #Winter's Song #Marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Loki fanfiction

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lotornomiko · 3 years

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The Broken Hearted Comfort Chapter Four (Not work safe)

Got another chapter done. It veers strongly into dub con territory though....Be careful if that is the kind of thing that you find triggering. (THough no full on sex happened.)

Hook Belle paring!

The room that has been serving as her cage, is one that was utterly bland in appearance. With drab shades of gray as far as the eye could see, with little other true color to be found. Furniture was even more sparse, just a small wooden table shoved in one corner, and a simple cot instead of that of a real bed for Belle to rest on. There was a privacy screen allowed her, hiding her bath and toilet from sight. Once and only once a day, a servant would come, the same nearly blind woman, who didn't so much as turn towards Belle let alone speak.

That old woman was the only contact with the outside world that Belle now had. The only face that she ever saw, and the only proof that the world still existed outside of this room. For this room was one that was entirely windowless, the recycled air inside it so stale and suffocating. It was nothing more than a prison, one that was made to make that which it held, wilt like a flower.

Belle was indeed suffering just like that, perhaps even dying a slow death as the Queen's prisoner. Certainly she was losing her mind, Belle having had nothing to do but sit or pace, endlessly thinking her thoughts. Wondering about how her life could have been reduced to this. Wondering if there had been any way to avoid what had happened to her, or if this unsatisfying fate had ultimately always been inevitable.

Belle often thought about the what could have been. The what if's that had centered around the making of different vital choices. Would she have been happier if Belle had stayed in her father's kingdom? Would her life have been more rich and fulfilling if she had married Gaston and had borne his children? Or would she have even had a chance for a family of her own, when the Ogres had been on the verge of wiping out her father's entire kingdom? Mostly however, Belle found she spent the most time wondering about Rumplestiltskin and the choices that she AND he had both made.

There were so many what if surrounding the man. What if she had never gone with him, which had been the one that was easy enough to guess an answer to. But what of the others? Ones like what if she had never fallen in love with him? If she had never kissed him? If she had never allowed herself to believe there was a chance that he could love her back? What if he had never forcibly evicted her from his castle, what if her decisions hadn't landed her right in the Queen's trap. So many what ifs, leaving Belle regretting most if not all of them.

Her thoughts weren't exactly charitable at times. Belle was after all, nursing the worst and also the first of what would probably be the only broken heart she would ever have the misfortune to receive. For Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been the ideal man to have developed that bloom of first love for. For what he had been satisfied to keep at a distance, had absolutely left him enraged when faced with the power of true love's kiss up close.

Belle still didn't understand it. Why had Rumplestiltskin been so enraged by her love? Why had he flown into such a fury, horrified at the kiss, at the chance to break his curse? Why had he valued isolation and power more than he had at a chance for true love? Worst of all, why had Rumplestiltskin treated her so unkindly, his actions so hurtful, his words even crueler.

It was as though Rumplestiltskin had set out to break Belle's heart, to thoroughly ensure that her kiss would never again hold power over him or his curse. He had all but succeeded in that too, Belle hurting and ever so heartbroken. Not understanding what was so unfavorable about HER, why Rumplestiltskin hadn't valued her affection, nor why he had been unable to tolerate her kisses.

Belle has had a lot of time to think. Perhaps more than was healthy. She had examined her every interaction with Rumplestiltskin. From those terrifying first days when he had brought her into his home, to the times after, where the love had begun to bloom, Belle having gotten to know him.

Or so she had thought. Belle now knew she didn't really know him at all. She had only seen the sides he had wanted her to see, hiding his foul deeds and dirty dealings from her. She had been privy to his beast, the side that had first terrified and intimidated her so badly that she had been left to do nothing but tremble before him. Later yet, would come another facet, that of the quiet charmer, who shared many a conversation with her. Conversations which Belle now realized had seen HER doing most of the talking, waxing poetic about her expectations of love, speaking on the dreams she had had for herself.

Rumplestiltskin had smiled and made the appropriate comments, but he hadn't really shared much about himself. Belle now wondered if he had been toying with her, using her as just a moment's bit of entertainment. While all the while, never dreaming that Belle's rapidly growing infatuation could one day prove a true danger to him.

Belle had been in the full bloom of love, imagining Rumplestiltskin as the dark hero in a fairy tale. Making assumptions about him, building him up to be something that he was not, only to be overwhelmingly crushed when he proved himself to be more unfeeling monster than loving man.

Thar day that she had excitedly gathered up her nerve to kiss him? It had been exhilarating, those first kisses. Sidling up shyly to him, inching closer until she brushed her lips over his. He hadn't kissed her back, but Belle had assumed it was shock that had held him frozen. Undeterred, Belle had continued, trying to kiss him, then even harder yet. Feeling the tingles in response, the magic working, his curse ready to come undone. And then it had all gone to hell, Rumplestiltskin violently shoving her away.

What followed was an all out tantrum of the most furious kind, Rumplestiltskin mad and raving like a lunatic. Actually pushing her down to the floor, throwing things, looking like he wanted to HIT HER. He never actually did, but she bore the bruises all the same, dark marks from where his hands had gripped rough hold of her arm, jerking Belle up off the floor. Dragging her through the castle to its deepest bowels, throwing her into a dungeon, and leaving her there for days on end.

Belle had been in a state of shock, not able to understand why things had gone bad like that. She'd be still frozen in disbelief when Rumplestiltskin finally came to her, telling her such awful things. Mean things, hurtful things, cruelly setting out to rip her heart and her love to shreds. Belle's heart already cracked, began to break further, tears pricking at her eyes. And still she had stubbornly clung to her ideals, to her belief that her love could save a man who did not want to be saved.

It had taken Rumplestiltskin bodily lifting her up, and throwing her to the ground outside his front door, for Belle to finally shake free of her shock. To finally walk away, even as she had been expecting him to call out to her. That final shred of hope had been waiting for Rumplestiltskin to realize his mistakes, to realize his love for her.

He hadn't, and her heart had cracked further. It wouldn't break apart until later, until Belle had this endless time to think back and do nothing but examine her time with Rumplestiltskin. Because before her imprisonment, there had been that broken state of disbelief, Belle nursing the pain in her heart and unsure of what to do with herself.

The only thing that Belle had been absolutely clear on then was that she couldn't return to her kingdom. She refused to be known as nothing more than a self sacrificing martyr, a ruined woman who had given up everything to save her father's kingdom. The people there could appreciate her sacrifice, but would not want to associate with a princess who was fallen and stained in their eyes.

There would be no happily ever after in her father's kingdom. Not for Belle. And the way that she had felt, nursing her hurt heart, Belle hadn't believed there was a happily ever after to be found for her in any of the Enchanted Realm's other kingdoms. But she had to try, if not to move on, then to at least build some kind of life for herself. So she had drawn on her inheritance, the money her father had set aside for her. It allowed Belle to survive, to wander aimlessly from town to town, until she could finally make some kind of choice over what to do next.

She never did figure out that choice, Belle too busy mourning, suffering. Spending most of the evenings inside a tavern, nursing a single drink on the pretense of being near the people who partied there. Belle had thought if she was around happy, laughing people, that maybe that feeling would rub off onto her.

It hadn't, and not many had dared approach her, once they noticed the pain in her eyes. She was left alone, isolated from even the good feelings inside the tavern. Left to stew in her own misery and suffering, an outsider staring in, desperate to be a part of those happier feelings.

That desperation wasn't only about wanting to be happy. Belle had wanted to be loved. She'd end up settling for less, for feeling something, anything, even if it was just meaningless sex. She hadn't set out to be used, just wanting to feel, wanting to know that someone else could appreciate and want her, find her lovely and worthy of their affection. The pirate had done just that, at least at first. She had followed him into the alley, not because he was handsome, but because he had worn a similar broken expression of such raw pain.

His blue gaze had been haunted, his eyes reflecting a heart that had broken so completely that she was surprised he hadn't died from the pain of it. Belle hadn't known her own eyes showed a similar pain, which had attracted the pirate to her in turn. And when they had finally come together in that alley, he HAD wanted her. Had shown her the affection that Rumplestiltskin had denied her. The pirate had kissed and touched her, and it had been soothing enough to make Belle feel a fleeting sense of something.

Any positive feelings or comfort had been dashed, the minute the pirate had so cruelly taken her virginity. It had been a shock of a different kind, a right slap in the face that had awakened Belle to just what she had been doing. And though she had cried out, the pirate hadn't stopped, hadn't even slowed his actions. He had just kept right on using her, thrusting with a near mindless abandonment, taking his own satisfaction and leaving Belle to feel dirty, used.

Horrified, humiliated, and hurt, all this and more Belle had felt. Feeling foolish, even stupid, Belle had slapped him and run away. Wanting to never see him again, barely able to look at her OWN reflection, Belle had felt sick at what she had let happen. She had made a vow then and there, to never again let that pirate, let ANY man prey on her weaknesses and vulnerabilities again.

That night, was the very reason she had made the decision to go on the monster hunt. She was no warrior, but she had other skills, and the hunt seemed as good a thing to do as anything else. Besides it would have gotten her out of town, far away from the pirate and the humiliations, the memories of what had happened between them.

Sometimes Belle wondered if she could have avoided ending up the Queen's hostage, if she had stayed put in that town. If she hadn't gone on that hunt. But the Queen HAD been looking for her, and the men on the hunt had been all too quick to betray Belle to the Queen. Those men were all dead now, the Queen not trusting them to not spread talk about the captive that she had caught. It was why the servant was blind, unable to truly see Belle to describe her to any who might whisper about the beauty in the tower.

The Queen kept Belle carefully guarded, hidden out of sight and out of mind of all who might betray her whereabouts. Belle herself could not even scream, the room windowless and sound proofed, so that not even a being as magical as Rumplestiltskin would be able to find her. But Belle didn't entirely understand the point of this. She had no value to Rumplestiltskin, the man simply not caring. Belle knew that one day the Queen would realize that, and then Belle would most likely die on the Queen's orders.

Belle's heart which had already born many cracks and tears to it, all but fell apart in that tower. The woman expected to never again be free, to never again see the outside world, or to breathe in its fresh air. She certainly didn't expect to see anyone other than the blind servant, and perhaps maybe the Queen. She most definitely wasn't expecting the pirate to come swaggering into her room, looking like some dark clad hero out of a less knowledgeable girl's wildest fantasies.

Belle was downright shocked to see him, not to mention aghast. And yes, she could admit that the pirate was the most exciting thing to have happened to her in the weeks that she had spent here imprisoned. But he was also down right scary, pinning her on the cot, kissing and pawing at her. Speaking words that seemed more threat than just promise, assuming he had a right to what he was doing, and what it was that he wanted from her.

Fed up and not about to take much more abuse from anyone, not even a would be savior, Belle had hauled off and hit him. She had one satisfying moment after her hand connected with his cheek, Belle watching as his face was turned to the side from the force of that blow. She might have even smirked, if she hadn't been so scared.

But just as Belle was frightened, she was also angry. The pirate was the last person she had ever expected to see, and he rivaled Rumplestiltskin in just how much Belle had never wanted to see either man ever again. It was a toss up just who she disliked more in the moment, Belle all but hissing now.

"Get your hand off of me."

It was deliberate, the way that he responded by maintaining the touch. By doing more than just that, his fingers doing a presumptuous caress, molding them to fit to the shape of her breast’s ample curve. It wasn’t at all painful to be pawed at by him, the sensation simply one that was far more intrusive then anything else he had thus far done in this room. Belle bit down on her lip, refusing to give so much as a whimper in response to the fondling that he was doing.

She also began shoving at his shoulders, trying to bodily push him off of her, when the pirate turned to pin her with the blue of his eyes that were positively smoldering with some dark emotion. Any signs that he might have been shocked by the slap that Belle had given him were gone, and his own dark blue eyes were narrowing. Annoyance was among the emotions darkening in his gaze, but there was something far more sinister as well. Something downright predatory amid the annoyance and frustration. Something that made him seem like a desperate man with nothing to lose.

"That's not a proper show of gratitude." He finally spoke, and Belle couldn't stop herself from narrowing her own eyes in response. "Especially towards someone who has gone through a lot of trouble to find you."

She was too upset to truly wonder at that, at his reasons, and his abilities to do what the Evil Queen had deemed all but impossible. Instead there was a fire in her, a spirit that had several tart replies presenting themselves to her. Almost as though she couldn’t stop herself, her voice came out sounding snide, Belle hissing at him. "You have a twisted sense of entitlement if you think I owe you anything." Again she pushed at him, but the pirate still refused to be budged from his place over her. "Get off of me!"

If anything he settled more firmly on top of her. "You didn't say please."

Her lips pressed together, Belle stubbornly refusing to try the word out on him. The pirate made that of a tsking sound, giving her breast yet another kind of caress, one who had his thumb’s fingertip brushing against a cloth covered nipple. "Why are you even here?" Belle gasped out, and hated that she had let out such a sound.

The pirate actually paused, looking thoughtful as though he had several answers he could give her. And all the while he kept on touching her breast, another finger joining the thumb, to pluck and play at the nipple there. She was sure that the blush was upon her, given the warmth in her cheeks, and it was a fire that was felt elsewhere in her body, a traitorous stirring of flesh, causing the part that he played with, to bead noticeably.

Made mortified by her own body’s slight reaction, the imprisoned beauty almost didn’t catch the words that the pirate then purred with a knowing smile.

"Would you believe I happened to be in the area?"

"Hardly." Belle scoffed, trying to shift beneath him. It didn’t spare her his touch, or that of the way that his fingers kept on playing. If anything, her struggles only helped to settle him more firmly on top of her, and they both became aware of just how sprawled on the cot she truly was, with her thighs slightly spread, and the pirate pressed between them. Her breath AND his both caught in each other’s throat, Belle a tremble with how provocative and dangerous a position she was in.

"Clever girl." He murmured, bending his head to kiss at her neck. She felt the firm, sensual feel of that potent expression, his lips’ kiss about the only positive memory of that night in the alley. His mouth alone held such seductive power to it, the touch of it enough to melt icier hearts than Belle’s, if not for the chill she felt from his words. "The truth is..." The pirate said in between brushing his lips over her racing pulse. "I came here looking for you."

She wasn’t sure what to make of that, the idea so surprising, and ever so shocking and outlandish, that there was no way that Belle could believe it to be true. This HAD to be mere chance, just an odd trick of misfortune that had the pirate stumbling upon her once again. He seemed to take her lack of comment as a sign to continue, his kisses upon her settling in the crook of her shoulder, his hook catching at the fabric of her tunic, to better expose her shoulder to him.

“Stop that!: Belle gasped, never once losing her fight. She pushed at him again, ever so wary and cautious, but also hissing at him. “For me!? As if I could believe that!”

“Why?” He had lifted his head, blue gaze stilling her in the moment. “Why can’t you?”

She blinked slowly, once, twice, three times in all. “Well….why would you come here for me?” It wasn’t as rude and scoffing sounded as she had intended, Belle’s voice more wounded and soft sounding then anything. Her vulnerability was coming out, whether she meant it to or not, Belle certain she had no value, nothing to offer anyone to make it worth their while to come after her.

She certainly wouldn’t believe that the pirate could be motivated to be selfless, or in the idea that he could have wanted a second go at her. No one was that crazy, that suicidal, to risk the evil queen all on just a chance of a good lay. This was merely a chance encounter, a fortuitous twist of fate that the opportunistic pirate had thought to seize. If she let him, he’d not only use her again, he’d abandon her as quick as it took to zip up his trouser’s fly after.

Feeling hurt no matter what way she looked at it, Belle blinked through the sheen of despairing wetness that was filling her eyes. “I don’t know anything.: She said out loud, quick enough. As though pretending his sexual interest wasn’t a factoring thing here, Belle stating the words this prison had made her begun to believe wholeheartedly. “I am of NO value to you.” Belle hadn’t even thought to speak Rumplestiltskin's name, too busy trying to convince the pirate he was wrong about her, whatever his intent. "You and the Queen both waste your time on me."

"You'll find the Queen and I have very different goals where you are concerned." Again she was pierced by the storm dark blue of his eyes, Belle trembling despite her best intent.

“And...And those are?” Her prodding turned into a gasp, his mouth suddenly pressed over hers, claiming the lustiest kiss to have ever been stolen from her. It brought to mind rain soaked nights, and dark alleyways, of the press of eager lips against a gasping mouth, that intoxicating effect, and the way she had responded to it all.

She couldn’t stop her shaking, even after he had finished laying siege to her mouth. The pirate then pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes, with a look of pure determination and need.

"Let's just say....you have something that I need."

She wanted to be tart, to demand what that could be, even as he kept making it so blatantly obvious. Instead she shivered with awareness, with the way he was pressed over and against her, and then she was panicking, shoving at him again, unable to accept THAT as the real answer. "You know, never mind. I'll say thank you for the rescue, but that's all you're going to get from me."

His eyes so dark already, became twin pools of a fathomless depth, his lips setting in a firm line of a grimace. It was as though his own restraint, what little he had shown, was snapping, and then he was grabbing at her, hauling her off balance completely, as he kissed her again. It was a harder, more fierce pressing of their lips, the pirate’s mouth so hot and demanding, as his tongue traced over the shape of hers. This time when she gasped, he took full advantage of it, tongue darting into the opening she had given him, to explore and caress what was inside.

Her hands on him, she tried to shove back, but his arms had gone around her, holding her close, and closer yet. His hand and his hook moved with impudent grace, the fabric of her tunic bunching further under their touch. She’d shiver and freeze, and then outright panic, the heated memories his kisses had given her, being overridden by the sound of her clothing rustling, and what had followed. The pain, Belle remembering his lack of care, once the pirate had gotten under her skirts, and she was terrified of it happening again now. It made her frightened, and it made her angry, Belle not wanting to be used, to be hurt by him, and hands that had been pushing at him, now turned blatantly violent, slapping and striking against him wherever she could, even as the breath inside her caught and built to an uneven tempo.

She thought she heard him growl, but it came from a distance, Belle dizzy and made panicked, and struggling not to choke. Suddenly she was on her back, with both of her wrists caught by his large hand. She struggled and arched beneath him, her breaths made further ragged and suffocating. The pirate glared down at her with such heat, and such frustration, his hand busy with hers, but his hook seemed to traced down her body, as though to prove he wasn’t deterred by this, by her.

She then became aware of more than that hook’s travels, again realizing how her legs were spread, and that the pirate was still situated between them. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, from the dark humor that filled them, the pirate letting her know how aware he was of HER awareness of his arousal, and the fright that it was causing her.

“Don’t...” She started to say, but then her panic thought better of it, Belle opening her mouth to let loose with a shrill scream. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping would result, the frightened princess exhaling with the sound of a second, when someone ran into the room. She didn’t know what to think, who to hope for, a guard, or the queen? She couldn’t look past the pirate’s eyes, to even see who had barged in, but then a decidedly male voice would speak, this man most assuredly feeling harried and annoyed.

"Captain! We don't have time for this." At those angry words hissed, Belle’s hope for a rescue was lost, the woman realizing this was just another cohort of her attacker’s. That very pirate, this so called captain, then muttered out a curse. He also lifted off of Belle, turning to snarl at the other man. "Tell the others we'll be down soon enough. I just have to...."

"WE?" Belle questioned sharply. "I'm not going ANYWHERE with you." She had a note of the hysterical in her voice, but also that of a strong refusal, Belle taking a stand, and rejecting the idea of his plan.

He looked at her, and for one moment his dark eyes held surprise in them. Belle wondered if the pirate had really thought it that simple, had really expected her to gladly go off with him to whatever molestation and perversions he had in mind. Belle almost snorted then, stubbornly lifting her chin, and firmly stating her position.

"I am not about to go anywhere with you, or continue this...association for any longer than need be."

Belle actually expected him to make some threats, to swagger and say she'd come with him, or she wouldn't leave at all. Instead, with frustration blooming in his eyes, he stood, Belle quickly going upright with him.

"I'm giving you once choice in this matter." He finally said, still gripping her by the arm. "You can either walk out of here with me of your own volition, or you can be carried out, kicking and screaming the whole way down."

"You wouldn't..." Belle breathed out in a hiss. His expression turned hard and steely eyed.

"Try me." He dared back.

"You are insane!" Belle exclaimed. "Thinking that I would be grateful, that I would go anywhere with you after all that you've done." Her chin lifted stubbornly. "I'd rather stay the Queen's prisoner than go with you!"

Belle barely got the words out, and already she was being lifted, actually thrown over the pirate's shoulder. Her mouth dropped open in shock, Belle speechless as he stalked out of the room with her. From lower in the tower, she could hear a great many voices, the sounds of people cheering. Belle couldn't guess what was going on, but it galvanized her into action, the woman kicking and screaming just like the pirate had predicted she would.

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To Be Continued....

Updated: 8/26/2021 Just some minor tweaking here and there till the whole Hook Belle encounter mid chapter. That part got majorly rewritten….

----Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #Captain Beauty #captainbeauty #Captain Hook #killian x belle #killian jones #Belle #Fanfic #fanfiction #The Broken Hearted Comfort #dubious consent #season 2 cannon divergence #smut #romance

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abloomntime · 3 years

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A Bloom In Time Ch12 Dealing With The Past

Poppy's eyes widened when the giant snake like creature turned around in the opposite direction and began to float off somewhere still looking at her with that scowl. He was-....Sure something else wasn't he? She'd never seen anything like this before. Was he a swamp monster? Could be, she'd never been in a swamp before and didn't know what was hiding in it and she hadn't heard much stories about monsters except for the typical monster under your bed kind, and she still felt a pit of dread in her stomach harder than a rock when his gaze didn't budge from her face. It was almost like he was both suspicious and cautious in his movements as he held her up and away from her like someone who had to carry something but definately didn't enjoy doing so.

".......How do you know her?," he asked finally breaking the silence.

She flinched and blinked at the sudden question and all she could ask was, "W-what?"

"I SAID how did you meet the girl?"

"I-I-....S-She rescued me from prison." Well it was the truth. Even if it technically wasn't actual jail or a traditional dungeon. It was still prison to her.

He hummed and brought her around from the left side of him to the front to get a better look at her but still kept her at arm's length for obvious reasons. He was still dealing with the inner turmoil of emotions suddenly busting inside him, but if there was one thing he was good at it was keeping his mouth shut and his true emotions hidden. Right now he was feeling...He didn't know exactly. Anger? Guilt? Resentment? Maybe a little bit of happiness? He didn't know. Oh no no. Not angry at her or anyone else, but at Vanessa. If the kiddo really rescued a 'lady wearing an apron' (his yellow eyes glazed over her brown leather work apron) and it was Poppy, when it really wasn't a maid or cook after all. Then that also meant that......She was right there the whole time in that heavily chained room. ...And in all the few times he was there he never bothered to look inside ....she was so close...Right there. Which raised a whole bunch of other questions. Was she an ice statue like the others? How long had she been in there? Was she locked in there before or after he was chained up? Did-.....D-Did she know it was because of him? Oh peck! Did the kiddo say anything to her?! Did she recognize him?! Poppy hadn't given any indication she even recognized him so that was probably a big fat no. So then ....Did she resent him? D-Did she even know the reason she was locked away by the mad queen? Did she blame her friend? Guilt and anger at himself bubbled up from himself and he growled. STOP IT SNATCHER!! How many times did you have to tell yourself it's NOT your fault!! ALL OF IT WAS VANESSA'S!! HERS NOT YOURS!! The sudden growl made her jump and he snapped his thinking back towards her movements. The sight of her still scared form seemed to calm her down a lot making him sigh(or give a sigh sound since he didn't have lungs) and frown. Less intimidating than the harsh scowl. And he hoped it wouldn't scare her now that-.......Now that she was...She was back..POPPY WAS BACK AND SAFE! That one thought made him halt in his movements causing her to lightly swing in his grasp at the sudden stop and she blinked at him. His eyes looked over her studiously before she found herself slowly being lowered down, she was placed on her feet and the giant claws retreated back to the ghost who once again towered over her quietly. He studied her dirty still damp self yellow eyes stopping at the twinkling peice of gold around her wrist and blinked at the dirt covered gold bracelet. Yellow eyes widening at it before his ghost brain(if he even had one) kicked into high gear and years of experience being in this scenario rammed back into him making him hum and look back to her confused, lightly scared face. Poppy was safe...For now at least. But what if something happened again. He hissed and was still angry at himself for allowing this to happen to her. Her whole life was stopped because of him and now she had to pay the price for it....but what if-....HE COULD DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT NOW!! YES!! He was so puny and weak back then, but now he had the power to do whatever he wanted. He could take care of his forest, his minions, those kids, and himself...Why COULDN'T he do the same for her..He could..Make it up to her. Make amends and make up for everything he couldn't do for her...YEAH!! Well first he had to seal a deal with her, which meant no one could ever hurt her again. Just as a safety precaution. He'd done it before. And he knew jjuuuust the way to do it.

"This is a nice accessory you got here," he complimented pointing a claw at her wrist. "It's ok if I keep it, right? It's sparkly. I like that. It looks magical."

She blinked and looked to her wrist..And immediately pulled her wrist up and to her chest, her other hand clutching it as she scowled. "NO peckin' way, Ya purple onion reject! I don't know who ya think you are, but there's no way I'm giving you this. It's the only thing I got left from my home!"

He smiled at the sudden gesture even if it didn't nessacarily mean she wasn't giving it up because she missed him. "Im sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I am the Snatcher. Im the one who takes all your stuff when you forget it under the couch, or deep in the closet....Or in this case. Your SOUL!!" Again her face twisted onto one of fear and he continued to smile and hold up a clawed hand, making a small blue fire appear. "I took it the moment we touched. This small flame is your life force." It really wasn't but he was great at acting when you were a scary prince and people feared you. They beleived anything you told them.

"Y-You...PECKING DIRTY VARMANT!!" She suddenly charged and started jumping and grabbing at the small flames. Horrified and angry her 'life force' was being held hostage by some swamp monster. She was DONE absolutely DONE with her poor life. "GIVE IT BACK!! GIVE IT BACK GIVE IT BACK PLEASE!!"

"You can't have it back. It belongs to ME now. What are you gonna do? You're just a little girl. Only fire magical hurts me, and you're not a fire spirit." He lightly tainted smiling and still staring almost in a happy way at her. This was always too easy. "No one enters my forest and doesn't face some sort of consequences. But tell you what. I've got a piece of paper here, and a nifty one at that too. I've got some work that'll suit you just fine with your spunk." His hand with the tiny flame was suddenly engulfed in blue fire and as she gaped at it like many mortals he's seen. A moment later the bright light dimmed away completely to show a big scroll in his hand without the flame. In one swift motion he unfurled it and lowered it and himself down to her. His head practically upside down as he held it a foot from her face and the other hand grabbing one of her shoulders. "How about a deal!? You get to keep your body, mind, and soul and in return you help me with just a few minor things I can't do as a human. "

"......Deal?", she asked unsure before looking back to the long piece of paper and her hands reaching out to take it from him. He let her and watched in anticipation as she read over the thing. It was almost half her height. A deal with a swamp creature...There's something you don't see every day. The paper looked old and slightly torn around the edges here and there. At the very top of the paper was a fancy drawing of the creature before her with the face and his arms outstretched, beneath that was some very fancy writing that read "CONTRACT" in fancy bold captial cursive letters. The Rest was also in fancy cursive but lucking she could read it pretty well reading someone's fancy cursive order of flowers all the time. It read as followed:

CONTRACT

SERVE THE DEAD WITH WHAT THE AGREEMENT STATES

You have been caught trespassing in the Subcon Forest owned by the benevolant and merciful the Snatcher. The punishment for invaded and disturbing the dead's sacred resting place will be your life long servitude and loyalty to said ruler The Snatcher. Refusing to comply will result in the reposession of one's soul as payment for your crime. But you are lucky enough to have been selected as few mortals to help the eternal after life and anything the Snatcher requests within reason of the servants morals and abilities. The following territories of the forest shall be availble for the signer to visit willingly as they please.

-The Subcon Forest

-The Employer's Home (with special permission)

-The Subcon Forest

These parts shall NOT be availible for any reason and will not be negotiated unless the employer says otherwise.

-The Haunted Manor

-The frozen bridge

-The Subcon Swamp

-The Subcon Well

-The frozen territory

-Any place my employer has said is off limits

By signing this the signer shall be paid for their service and loyalty with immortality, protection from the Snatcher and those under him, a home, and anything the signer requests within reason. Binding by contract means your soul shall remain bound to the contract which cannot be broken by any means except by will of the employer, a.k.a the Snatcher. And in return the signer shall do ask the Snatcher asks with they're full cooperation. If the Snatcher at any point terminates the contract the signer's soul shall be released from his care and they shall live a normal rest of their life. By agreeing you shall also be safe from other supernatural entities and their influences whatever they may be, including influences from the employer and other minions. Also by signing this the signer agrees to willing do this and become a certified minion of The Snatcher. If you have complaints, suggestions, or other, the signer must report them to their employer immediately. As a down payment for all provided by the Snatcher, he shall be given the contract with your soul will be bound to for eternity unless decided otherwise, but the servant will be allowed free of will, full freedom, tasks the employer asks something of them, mind, body, and their soul in their body.

SIGNED

And then there was a small line for her name. Poppy's blue eyes stared gobsmacked at it before rereading it again.......Before closing her mouth and looking up to the smiling spook with a raised brow.

"Do you REALLY expect me to hand over my life to YOU?!"

"Hey! You get to keep literally EVERYTHING. You're soul won't even belong to me. Only the contract it'll be connected too. Plus you don't literally have to do anything except minor tasks. Like going to the book store. You really can't expect me to easily buy books as I am do you?"

"NO! This is ridiculous! I'm not gonna-"

"Look, Po-...Miss." He almost said her name but made a clear throat noise and straightened back up looking down at her. "Perhaps I should've been more...Specific about what you owe me. You see this forest has thousands of spirits here. This is their home. They died here, they were buried somewhere here, and there's lots of obvious graves. Like or not you crashlanded into sacred burial ground disturbing them and annoying them all whether you like it or not. It doesn't matter if it's an accident, to them you invaded their sacred place. Which is also mine. There's a few powerful spirits here but none as powerful as myself. Im offering you a VERY generous deal, I even gave you your soul back once the flame left my hand." He smiled as Poppy suddenly blinked and looked at herself patted herself down as to check to see if her soul was still there. "All I want is a mortal helper to assist me in things I have trouble doing myself being an all powerful spirit. I even offer you anything you want in return. Within reason of course. Maybe you want out of here? To have the spirits forgive you?......Maybe some dry land by the looks of it. By refusing my offer you'd still be invading the undead's home and I don't think many are going to be as generous as I."

Her scowl quickly became a look of concern as she still stared at him. So he was a spirit huh? Was he right? Was there really big bad spirits like him around the swamp. She didn't think she'd ever see a spirit before like this. The guy was MASSIVE and obviously gave off danger vibes to her, but he offered her a deal, and....technically she DID kinda, sorta trespass on his home even if not intentionally. If she was a spirit she'd probably be upset someone walked into her final resting place too. Did it happen often if he was genuinely this annoyed about it? Was it true another spirit would get her if she didn't take his offer? Snatcher smiled wider showing off those fangs when she blinked and reread the contract over again....She didn't know documents too well, and she wasn't exactly an expert in laws like her old friend was, but it all seemed legit. Wasn't anything really underhanded in the paper except for the loyalty of becoming his 'minion' and doing as he asked without question. Boy her life just kept getting weirder and weirder by the hour.

"And what exactly kind of work would you have someone like ME do, Mr. Purple Shadow?," she asked raising a brow. "It's not like I have any special magical powers or anything."

"I don't need anyone else with magical powers around believe me. It's caused me nothing but trouble in the past anyways. Like I said, I only want a mortal helper to help me out with a whole bunch of things a big scary but handsome ghost like me can't."

"Like what?"

"Well as much fun as it would be to scare out an entire town and take the things I want, seeing everyone outside my forest scream and run away from me when I'm trying to simply buy books or something. It would be SO much easier if I had a normal looking mortal to do it for me and bring me things I want, and all kinds of other things a dead person like me can't. You like kids right? Live kids?" That question came out of no where and she rose a brow at how strange and sudden that one was. But he knew the answer was yes anyways, she always remembered how much she'd smile and laugh sweetly at all the children's antics. His minions were techincally those kids, and ...there was the girls. It WOULD be handy to have a lady who loves kids on hand right?...What would've their children have looked like if they ever had the chance to- He shook his head and looked back to her still confused face waiting for an answer.

"Uh....Y-Yes. I think they're some of the cutest creatures on the planet!'' She meant that bit too. "Why do you care though?"

"Because I have two small kids that drive me up a wall all the time. I could use a hand keeping them out of my hair."

Her brows rose. "You have childre-..." She suddenly froze. Blue eyes widening and remembering what the small alien girl said to her. Her father...A spirit. Snatcher- She suddenly pointed at him. "YOU'RE THAT LIL ALIEN'S FATHER?!"

He rose a brow. "Glad you finally caught up with what I was s-"

"She said you could help me!" Usually he'd be annoyed anyone would dare to interrupt him, but he just blinked at her sudden statement. "L-Look." SHe held out her hands holding the paper. "I-I just want some help! She told me you could help, but I don't know how! I'm lost, and everything's not where it should be, and Im having a very hard time believing anything is happening right now! I was frozen dead for a thousand years and rescued by an alien and now I'm talking to a giant purple ghost! I'm afraid I'm going crazy!''

"....Well, I can tell you everything you just said probably happened since I'm definately not an imaginary boogie man. But tell you what. You're lucky. That piece of paper there allows me to provide any help the signer might want within reason. You can clearly read it at the top there." He frowned a little bit. "I'll tell you this. I can't send anyone back in time, and wouldn't want to. But I can make life a lot easier for someone like you, and I can tell you already had it hard as it is. You lost so much already. So don't lose this too. Trust me, you'll regret it." Now she was put on the spot as she froze again and gave a helpless look between him and the paper...and gulped. "You know, you would also be untouchable to Pecking Vanessa. She'd be powerless against me therefore you too in a nutshell. Isn't it worth the price knowing you won't be a block of ice again."

Her eyes widened and she looked back to the paper with a sigh. "B-But...I don't h-have a pe-" He snapped his claws and a feathered pen appeared right next to her. She blinked at it for a moment but to his utter delight she reached a shaking hand up and grabbed it looking back down to the paper. "....W-What if I don't sign it?"

"Then another angry spirit will come and try to have at you for tresspassing. Im not the only ghost in this forest. Just the most powerful.~.....Sign your full name now."

The silence of the forest was interrupted by the soft scratching of a pen against paper slowly. Snatcher's smile became wider, and wider, and wider as she nervously signed away until she wrote the last 'n' of her last name. Once she did the pen disappeared in a small puff of smoke and she jumped, her grip on the contract loosening enough for the giant ghost to snatch it from her. At the same time a giant burst of energy throbbed hard within the very core of her body. Temparaily knocking the wind outta her. She gasped and fell to her hands and knees at the sudden tight feeling within her. Her body emitting a small purple light in the dead center of her chest before as soon it came it left and she stayed her gasping and blinking at the sudden sensation that came and left. Leaving goosebumps across the pale flesh and her shaking like a leaf again. Coughing and eventually snapping a scowl up to him. He smiled reading over the contract before it disappeared in a puff of flames too.

"That seals the deal, Lady! We're in business!"

"W-W-What the PECK was THAT?!," she demanded glaring at him.

"Relax. You're unharmed. It was just the bond ceiling between us and the magic forming a strong protective shield around your soul. Don't worry. You're safe now." His voice went a little soft there at the end as did his expression as he continued to stare at her. Poppy. His Poppy. His Princess of Flowers. She was safe. Free from any danger, out of Vanessa's grip, and safe at last. And with him after all this time. ....He shouldn't be happy about that. He still felt very guilty about her being locked away and frozen for a thousand years but I digress. But things were ok now. He would make sure of it. "SO. New Errand Girl." Still keeping up the act for now as he watched her get back onto her feet. "Tell me all about this little problem of yours. And follow me. You'll want to see you're new work place."

He went to grab her again but she took a step back and held up her hands still lightly scowling. "No thanks. I can walk."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Now. Are you going to tell me why the old blooming pecker locked you up and threw away the key?" he started forward again and she reluctantly followed. No sense in staying in the fog anyways right.

"To be honest I don't really remember." She gazed down as she walked, arms crossing over her chest. "It's...kinda fuzzy."

His full attention was on her as he scowled and hummed. "What do you remember?"

"I...remember these two big men in suits grabbing me from my stands when I was closing the shop. I think they might've been the Queen's knights." Snatcher scowled harder remembering those two very well. He could still almost feel them using their insane strength to hold him to the wall and chain him. "And then I was taken to the Queen's summer home and saw this monster...I mean the queen."

"No. You were right the first time. She was always a monster, it just took her a while to show everyone what was really inside. So don't give her any credit. She was never a queen, just a spider wearing a pretty mask."

She looked at him surprised. "Oh....Did you know her? I think the little alien said something about you were my age."

He bristled purple hair puffing up for a moment as he stared at her...before he scowled again. "Who DIDN'T know her?! She was Queen and then cursed EVERYTHING!!" He gave a small growl...before forced himself to calm down because she was looking at him funny and gave a sighing noise. "There's lots of spirits around here that was a poor victim of her tantrum." That wasn't a lie. There was lots of minions and dwellers that froze from her curse. "I'm sorry for what happened. But...A-Anyways, what happened after you met the crazy dame? What did she lock you up for?"

"I-......*sigh* I don't know. I think she said something about treason, but it's all fuzzy. And I SWEAR to you." She gave him an almost pleading look. "I didn't do anything but sell flowers in the square! I've never even met her before!''

He held up a hand. "OH! Believe me I believe you more than I would believe her. Lots of innocent lives were lost by her...But please. Feel free to continue." A guilty feeling bubbled up in himself and he had a pretty good idea what 'treason' Vanessa locked her away for.

She looked back down sadly...and shrugged. "That's about it. They threw me inside this big empty room, and locked me in. And then..." Her brows furrowed in thought. "....Uh. I don't remember what happened. All I remember was I was really cold and it was dark...and it was still so cold when I woke up. I could've sworn I was unconcious for a few hours."

He held up a hand again. "And let me take a guess at what happened next. Hattie blew the door down and took you back to her weird place in the sky, right?"

She nodded. "YES!! That's exactly it! She used her magic umbrella thing and there was this other little girl and then ..Hattie said you were a ghost and could help me. I still don't know how but ...I don't know. I guess knowing someone from my time was here after all was enough for me to get talked into getting teleported again. But then I ended up falling through the sky and crash landing into those poor trees." She looked at him. "H-How big is this Swamp, Mr. Snatcher Ghost?"

He rose a ghostly brow. "Don't call me Mr. Snatcher Ghost. Im known as Snatcher and nothing else and I would appreciate it if you'd call me that too. ...But the swamp's not that big. Maybe a small percent of my whole forest and territory. Subcon's a big place."

She stopped walking for a moment and looked at him. "Subcon..A-As in the Subconia or Subconette Kingdom?" She wondered which one she landed in.

He gazed at her silently for a moment before shrugging. "Both. A lot's changed over a thousand years, Lady. Those kingdoms don't exist anymore. Just some reminders left behind."

That was it. The thorn that pricked the skin. Poppy stopped staring there right at him for a good long moment....before the weight buckled from under her and she fell to her knees with a blank expression glanced to the ground. Immediately he floated over and held his hands arm unsure.

"H-Hey! Lady?!.....P-Poppy. Are you alright?" A choke came from her and fresh tears came down her face as she started crying, and he froze. A sudden feeling of guilt and worry bubbled up at the sudden crying. All the emotions and situation finally hitting her hard like a punch to the gut and finally breaking her down for him to see. Snatcher floated there for a moment still unsure what to do ....before unsurely putting one arm around her and his other hand being engulfed in flames, a hankercheif appearing in it before he awkwardly offered it to her. "Uh....There, there? It's ok. You're alright, right?"

She grabbed the small cloth from her and uselessly wiped at her face. "I-I LOST EVERYTHING!! AND EVERYONE I EVER CARED ABOUT IS G-G-GONE!!" She blew her nose into the small cloth and sniffed wiping her face with her arm. "W-W-What am I supposed to do?! My life is over!!"

"H-Hey! That's not true I-.....*sigh*" He rubbed the back of his head and tried to scramble for a solution. He was NOT good at having heart to heart talks even to himself, so...what would he say to this? He looked back to her as one thought crossed his mind. "I-I...I know exactly how you feel." He scowled. "Yeah. I know EXACTLY how that feels. Vanessa took everything from me too when she froze everything!" He growled and his grip on her became a bit tighter if he was being a lil protective. "I pecking didn't see it coming until it froze me right before my very eyes! I died before my life even took off the ground and now I'm stuck like this....But you aren't." He ...attempted a smile. "Listen, Poppy. I'm not good at this speaking from the heart stuff, but Im pretty good at speaking from experience stuff. So trust me when I saw you still got your whole life plus more ahead of you. It's....probably going to take a while for you to process this properly and start to move on like I did...But your friends wouldn't have wanted you to wallow over them. You can still do things now you're not a frozen statue locked in some room like Vanessa's trophy. And.....I-I promise I will help you. Alright?" And he meant it too. He owed it to her after all that happened. He'd help his dear friend-

"W-What AM I supposed to do now?...E-Everything's-"

"Gone?", he finished for her sighing again. "Look. I ....can't change the past no matter how badly I want to. But I can change the future, and so can you. Think of all the things you can do now without anyone to hold you back!" He might've been speaking from what he perceived as a positive but she gave him a funny look. "Uh...By that I mean vanessa of course. She's not holding you prisoner anymore."

"Gee...T-Thanks for the swell pep talk, Buddy. *hic*" She wiped her eyes again before trying to give back the cloth, to which Snatcher cringed and snapped his fingers making it disappear.

"Hey. I said I wasn't good at that kind of stuff....Hey." He rose a ghostly brow and looked around. "You said the kid brought you here. Where is she?"

She blinked and stared at him for a moment. "I-....I-I don't know. All I remember is falling and landing in swamp water."

He hummed and thought for a moment. Poppy blinked when she was grabbed and raised to her feet by him again. "I have a good idea about where she went. Come on. On your feet. I want to see if my hunch is right."

***********************************************************************************************

"MS POPPY!?"

The shouting of the children still echoed through out the forest as the small hatted girl ran down the dirt path towards the tree house. Blue eyes frantically looking around at every dead tree, tombstone, and dweller that she passed. Desperately looking for a moment of pale skin and red hair. Bow was bounding behind her right on her tail also wearily looking around the forest passing dwellers and subconites alike as she hightailed it after. Both were worried Poppy would soon end up on the wrong side of the forest by now! The swamp! Snatcher's traps! ....GOOD PECKING GOSH!! WAS SNATCHER EVEN BACK YET!? She'd be dead meat without one of the girl's to explain why a grown woman was suddenly walking around in his forest. How could she have let go of her hand and not realize it!? She felt like crying once the sight of the ghost's familiar home came into view. Getting another rush at seeing it, she bounded towards it as fast as she could. Pulling back on her heels digging into the ground and grabbing the hat on her head as she came back to a sliding stop in front of the empty home. Panting and startling the ghosts around it. After a few seconds, Bow ended up stopping right behind her and falling to her knees gasping and wheezing after the long run they did as her friend looked around at everything. No one but the ghosts and Rough Patch that was curled up in Snatcher's chair looking like someone randomly placed a bush in his home.

"Are you looking for the boss, Newbie?," one of the subconites asked pointing in the direction Snatcher previously rushed off too. "You missed him. He left 'bout fifthteen minutes ago."

"OH NO!! OH NO!!" Hattie immediately turned and began running in the direction the minion pointed leaving Bow heaving and sitting there too tired to follow anymore. Running blindly into the woods wasn't the best idea but what was she supposed to do at that now? What if Snatcher spotted Poppy? What if she fell into one of his traps? What if- The child suddenly came to a screeching halt at what emerged out of the woods before her with a scowl. "....Snatcher?!"

The spirit scowled and laserfocused on the little girl right in front of him....Before edging a little bit to the right revealing the red haired tired looking woman behind him. The two girls locked eyes for a solid moment...Before Hattie sighed in releif and wiped her forehead.

"Kid. You have got a lot of explaining to do."

#flowercrown #a hat in time snatcher #a hat in time florist #The Florist #florist #snatcher #florist x snatcher #snatcher x florist #a bloom in time

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elliepassmore · 4 years

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Incendiary Review

4.5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, revolution, strong female leads, magic, mind control, Hispanic fantasy, Woven in Moonlight This book was super good and I'm bummed it took me so long to read it. The world is very vivid, albeit a tad confusing at times, and I really loved the history Córdova put into each of the main locations in the book, it made them feel alive. Since the locations could be confusing at times it sometimes made it difficult to make sense of the timeline of the story and how far everything is away from each other, though this is minor enough it doesn't really detract from the story much. The story is told from Renata's, Ren, POV as she attempts to save other Moria and get revenge on the Bloodied Prince and the king. Renata's an interesting character to follow since she grew up in the palace and with the Whispers, and neither group really treated her that fantastically. She's obviously very loyal and wants to be granted forgiveness for the sins of her past, but that also means she's blind to some of the motives regarding her until it's too late. Her memory-stealing powers also make her an interesting character to follow. Córdova has written Renata in a rather unique way, where instead of the memories she steals just being stolen and fading to the background to eventually be forgotten, like normal memories or like I've seen other memory-stealers be written, the memories Renata steals are always with her and are liable to be called forward unexpectedly at any given moment. In essence, Renata is haunted by lives that are not her own and I love it. My main issue with Renata is that she can be whiny, especially in the beginning, but she does get better as the book continues. Margo, however you want to feel about her, was right when she said Renata could be weak, but Renata definitely grows over the course of the book into someone who can hold her own and could even be a leader. Dez is the leader of the Whispers, which I found kind of weird since he was Renata's age, maybe a year or so older, and there were Elders that made up a council for decision-making, though they too seemed to regard Dez as the leader of the group. Dez is brash and seems to be optimistic about everything and just about everyone, and he could easily be that annoying character who's too bright and too innocent, but Córdova has him getting his hands just as dirty as everyone else, which I appreciated. Renata and Dez are part of a Whispers unit comprised of three more people: Sayida, Margo, and Esteban. Sayida is super sweet and kind, choosing to see the best in most people and use her powers of influence for positive thoughts, even when it would be easier to influence more negative ones. Outside of Dev and maybe Illan (an Elder and Dez's father), Sayida is the only Whisper that actually cares about and is nice to Renata. Margo is more like an adder, prone to pounce and unwilling to take anyone's shit. She's determined to win the war and will do whatever is necessary. Despite their rocky history, Renata and Margo manage to call truce a few times during the book and almost become friends (despite everything, I think I like Margo). Esteban is prickly, also mean to Renata, but not quite as much a bully as Margo. He's also a drunk. Esteban feels a bit like the kid brother of the group, despite being only a bit younger than the rest. He's able to recognize his mistakes and even grows to trust (and I think truly trust) Renata. Justice Méndoza is the man who originally trained Renata to use her powers and is the reason she's attempting to atone for her past sins. Méndoza is...definitely evil. Definitely using Renata. But I can see why young Renata fell for his tricks and how it would be so easy to do so again. Méndoza is the kind of abuser that puts you in situations that hurt you, but never actually does so himself, and will actually defend you when the hurtful situation isn't controlled by him. He's sweet to Renata, offering her candies and concessions, and even goes so far as to begin to confide in her, but he is, ultimately, a terrible and power-hungry man attempting to kill any Moria not under his or the king's command. We don't get much of a chance to see the king in a personal sense, just a few scenes here and there that just prove how much he delights in cruelty. Prince Castian barely gets any scenes as well, but w-o-w are they whoppers when he is there. The Bloodied Prince got his name for a reason, and yet he is not violent toward the servants, only soldiers, and it's an interesting juxtaposition between his public self and the self that parades around the palace. Even at the end, though I do feel sympathy toward him, I'm not entirely sure what I think of him. There were loads of other interesting characters that I'd love to get more history or time with, though I know there are constraints on what can be fit into a book without it being too long or drawn out. Something I think Córdova does masterfully is make each and every character, no matter how minor, seem as if they have lives, dreams, and problems of their own. She also manages to get the intricacies of the human mind into the characters, with no one really being wholly good or wholly bad (yet), but rather a mix that balances one way or the other.

#book #books #book review #book recommendations #incendiary #zoraida cordova #characters of color #magic #fantasy #revolution #ya book #strong female characters

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allisondraste · 5 years

Text

Temperance (19/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary: Home is where the hurt is.

Notes: Just a brief trigger warning for some trauma sympmtoms discussed. Take care of yourselves!

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

The Fereldan Countryside, 9:31 Dragon

Cold, morning air pricked Liss’ skin as her eyes flickered open, blinking away the darkness of sleep. She shuddered even beneath two heavy blankets, warmed only by the memory of the night before that made her face burn hot and her stomach flutter. It could very well have been a dream. Her imagination was fairly vivid, after all, and it was not uncommon for her to dream about kissing handsome men under the stars. Those dreams, however, had ceased since the night her family died. She only had bad dreams now.

No, kissing Alistair wasn’t a dream, nor was him holding her afterward, sharing his warmth until she fell asleep. Perhaps he had fallen asleep, too. She couldn’t remember, but she could still smell him in her hair and on her clothes, and her lips still tingled with the memory of his. A smile twitched at those same lips as she sat up and stretched briefly before drawing the blankets back up around her. Damn the winter for existing.

Looking around the makeshift camp, she noticed Alistair standing near the horses, still as a statue, staring off in the distance toward Amaranthine. Remnants of smoke clouds lingered in the sky. What had the Wardens done? Were they all right? She supposed Alistair probably wondered the same.

Liss rose to her feet and walked over to him, footsteps intentionally loud so as to not startle the jumpy man. Closing the distance, she slid her arms through his and clasped her hands over his abdomen, pressing her cheek against his back. He tensed beneath her touch, spine stiffening and he held his breath.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling away from him quickly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t. Not exactly,” he answered with a heavy sigh as he turned to face her, pointing toward the smokey sky, “That’s Amaranthine, isn’t it?”

Liss just nodded slowly and watched concern wash over Alistair’s face, knitting his brow and causing his lower lip to tremble. Maker, was he going to cry?

“Well,” he announced very suddenly, wiping at his eyes with a thumb and index finger that he brought together to pinch the bridge of his nose. He sniffed and continued, “It’s probably just… a funeral pyre to destroy all the rotten darkspawn corpses. Can’t leave them just lying about. That’s how you get diseases.”

“Ali,” Liss soothed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Alistair put his large hand over hers, which she had never thought to be small until now, and squeezed it briefly before dragging it down and away from his face and letting go. He brought his eyes up to look at her, and the expression shattered her heart. She knew what that look meant, where it led, and that she had nobody and nothing to blame but her own impulsive self. Instinctively, she took a step back from him.

“Liss, I’m so… sorry,” Alistair said. It was an introduction, a preface to what he actually wanted to say.

“This is about the kiss, isn’t it?” She stole the gut punch from him. If she said all the things first, it couldn’t hurt her as much. “I knew I should have asked. It was a dumb, careless idea. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, I mean no...um.” Alistair huffed and tried again. “What I mean to say is: Yes. This is about the kiss, but no you’re not an idiot.”

“Was it bad?” That was a dumb, pointless question that just fell out of her mouth.

“Maker, no. No! It was very nice,” he answered waving his hands frantically and then settling, “But it shouldn’t have happened.”

”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just horrible at reading people sometimes.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reached out as if to touch her shoulder, but stopped and let his hand fall to his side. “You didn’t overstep. I…enjoyed it, but it was wrong.”

“Why?” She hated the hurt in her voice but was unable to stop it. She laughed to brush it off and added, “It was just a kiss.”

“No it wasn’t, Liss.” Alistair dropped his head, “It meant something.”

“Is it so bad for it to mean something?”

“Yes.” He brought his eyes back up to hers again. The word was hard, cold, even in his sympathy, that he might as well have thrown an icicle at her. “It’s just - ”

“I understand,” she said just as coldly, and moved to start packing up her things if only to keep him from seeing her cry. “It is pretty obvious that your heart is elsewhere.”

“Liss,” he muttered and she snapped her eyes up to him causing him to look away.

“No, I get it.” She laughed angrily, and it wasn’t even Alistair she was mad at, not really. “It’s hard to move on from something special. Sometimes you waste years and years of your life trying to fill that hole, but nothing ever does. Nothing even comes close. Maybe you even start to realize that you’re not really you without that person, and that your best memories are with them. Only now, they’re gone, and the thought of that person makes you unbearably sad. So you shut it out, you make jokes, and you convince everyone you’re fine, but you’re not. You’re miserable, and the only person who can fix it, the only one in the world you want to see, isn’t there.”

Liss began to roughly ready her horse, and continued, “Maybe you end up kissing a good friend on a whim for comfort. It’s nice and warm and you feel whole again, but it’s just for a moment because surprise, you’ve somehow now made yourself feel ten times worse than you did before, damned for even trying to be happy.”

Alistair blinked at her silently and frowned. “I didn’t tell you about any of that.”

“I never said it was about you,” Liss answered through her teeth and climbed up onto her horse, “Come on. We can talk about this later if you wish. Right now, I just really want to see my brother.”

Painful, awkward silence hovered over them as they made the final leg of their journey to Highever, and Liss was haunted with the immediate echo of the things she’d said. Out loud. She squirmed in her saddle and focused every ounce of her energy on not thinking about it, yet she still thought about it anyway. About him. Nate. It finally happened. Years of hiding and hurting and it all came out just like that. They were feelings she didn’t need. Especially not as she was about to face home for the first time since… well, everything.

As soon as they reached the city gates, Alistair parted with Liss to pay his respects to Duncan as she made her way to her family’s castle. She stood at the gates for what felt like an eternity, staring up the length of the large wooden doors while her stomach twisted into increasingly intricate knots. A warrior stomach, it was, braided for the battle to come.

“I’m ready,” she said with a deep breath, nodding to the guards who pushed open the doors and held them for her to enter in to the courtyard. It was quiet and empty, as it was in the winter, the only signs of life were the soldiers that lined the battlements. She passed another pair of guards through another set of doors to reach the main hall, large, open, and warm. It was filled with the sound of chatter and servants milling about at their jobs.

“Lady Cousland,” one woman exclaimed, clearly recognizing Liss, though Liss could not return the recognition. “We were not expecting you.”

“My apologies,” Liss answered, “I know it is polite to send word ahead.”

“No matter,” the woman said, “The Teyrn is in the middle of a meeting with some representatives from Amaranthine, but I will let him know you are here.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Isobel, milady.”

“Thank you, Isobel,” Liss said with a smile, “You can tell the Teyrn that I will be wandering the halls. He’ll have to find me.”

Isobel eyed her curiously, likely due to the complete deviance from etiquette, but bowed anyway and left to retrieve Fergus. Liss remained in the main hall for a few moments, breathing and taking in the scenery. It looked as it always had, smelled as it always had, and sounded the very same. Yet it was a different place entirely. Everything that had once made it home was gone. Liss did not know what to make of it, nor if it could ever feel like home again. Tears burned in her eyes at the thought of all that Howe had taken from her.

She tore away from the main hall, not wanting to be seen were she to lose her composure, and ambled up a flight of stairs that led to the living quarters. A mistake, she knew, but the only relatively private place in the castle. Her chest tightened, breath becoming panicked and shallow as she approached the door to her room. Each time she blinked she could see pools of blood on the floor. She heard screams and smelled iron, remembered Oren and Oriana’s lifeless faces. It was all her fault. Thoughts raced and swirled in her head. She should have stopped it, done more, died trying. All the things she’d only revisited in nightmares were crashing down on her all at once and she was suffocating.

Liss passed by her own room frantically, unable to even look at it, opting instead to turn down an adjacent hallway, the guest wing, running until she reached the very end. She turned to face the door immediately to her right, the last room in the hall. It was Nathaniel’s, or at least the one he had used during his summers there. How many times had she run down that hall to hide, to be comforted, to see her friend? How many times had she gone into his room when he wasn’t there just to feel closer to him, or just because it felt like the safest place in the world? Of course her feet carried her there now. It only made sense.

Grabbing a torch from the wall, she pressed down on the door knob gently, hand shaking, and let herself into the room. It was dark and cold from too many vacant days, but otherwise the same as she remembered it, perhaps the only place in the castle untouched by recent events. She hung the torch in an empty sconce and moved to examine the rows of dusty books that lined the shelves. Most were boring, standard-issue texts on the history of Ferelden, tactical manuals, and refuse from Aldous’ collection. One book stood out, however. It was smaller, leather bound, and crammed between two volumes of Brother Genetivi’s writings. She pulled it out and examined the cover as she kicked off her boots. Fereldan Myths and Folklore.

She’d read the book many times over, of course. It was nothing new, but perfect for keeping her mind busy until Fergus came for her. She climbed up on the bed and sat, back straight against the headboard. As she fanned through the pages, she frowned at the sight of a page that had been folded down at the corner. It was one of the shorter tales in the book, a chilling legend called “The Baroness of the Blackmarsh.” Her heart fluttered as she noticed charming little letters in black ink, straight and sharp-edged, cluttering the margins at the sides. Nate.

The tale was simple. It warned travelers of the Blackmarsh to be wary as they wandered through, making sure to think of the Maker, place Prophet’s Laurel under the tongue, and carry a vial of Lyrium to ward away the demons that whispered in the dark. Supposedly people who passed through the Blackmarsh reported hearing voices, seeing faces of the dead in the water, and becoming tangled in trees that grabbed at their clothing like gnarly, jagged hands. These events were blamed on a wicked baroness who practiced blood magic to maintain her youth and beauty. The Veil was bound to be thin in such places after all.

Liss glanced over to read Nate’s notes at the side.

“Not the whole story. Baroness was well-loved by her people after she saved them from a dragon. Something bad must have happened.”

She smiled. Leave it to Nate to take a folk legend seriously. Then again, hadn’t he visited the Marsh? Perhaps there was more truth to the myth than it seemed. She scanned her eyes over the rest of the page, noting another brief message at the bottom.

“Liss, if you read this while I’m gone, I’m not being too serious, so stop thinking it.”

Liss flinched and read the words again. How dare he presume what she was thinking about him, even nine or more years ago, whenever the stupid note was written. And how dare he assume she’d pilfer through his things. She may have invaded his personal space on a regular basis, but she drew the line at pilfering. Arse.

Still, the smile that curved at her lips deepened and tears dripped onto the page as she ran her fingers over the writing. The droplets startled her, and she reached up to wipe them from her face, unaware that she was even crying. Maker, she missed him, and it was easier to breathe just admitting to it. She missed him.

“There you are,” a familiar voice rang out, causing her to start. She looked up to see Fergus standing in the doorway, a sad, knowing grin on his face, “I should have known to look here first.”

“Am I so predictable?”

“Yes, actually.” Fergus stepped into the room to stand at the foot of the bed, tracing the wooden footboard with the fingertips of one hand. His other arm hung unusually limply at his side. Had he been hurt? “If I knew you were coming, I would have greeted you at the gate, and you wouldn’t have had to face the castle alone... or hide in here to find some little shred of Nathaniel to comfort you.”

“That’s not - “

“I may not be as smart as you, but I’m not an idiot.” Fergus moved over to where she sat on the bed and rested his big, heavy hand on her head, shaking it slightly and causing her head to move around.

Liss grumbled and slapped his hand away. “I came with a friend, a last minute kind of thing, or I would have written ahead. Believe me when I say I would have much preferred by glorious return home to not have ended with me a pitiful weeping mess, but I just don’t think there’s a way around it.”

“There wasn’t for me,” he said with a sigh, staring blankly off into the air, “That’s what it takes to get past it, I think.”

“It’s good to see you, Fergus,” Liss muttered weakly, not really wanting to spend the entire visit with her brother stuck in the past. “How are you?”

He laughed and shook his head, looking back at her. “As well as I can be, considering. And you?” He winced and grasped the limp arm.

“I’ve been better,” Liss replied absently, setting the book aside and sliding to her feet. She grabbed his arm and examined it through the sleeve. A bulky spot rose up under the material just by his shoulder, a bandage. “What happened to your arm?”

“You won’t believe it,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“So it’s a good story, then?”

“Depends.” His grin was so wide she could count his teeth, not that she wanted to.

“Well, go on. Out with it,” she said dryly, sitting down on the edge of the bed “Lest I die from suspense.”

“Well, I was in the Coastlands, on my way to see what was going on in Amaranthine. I’d heard nothing from the Arlessa, Warden-Commander -- whatever she is-- for weeks, and that pillar of smoke was concerning.” Fergus paced about in front of the bed, gesturing emphatically. “On my way, I was cornered by some bandits, well… they weren’t actually bandits. They were some men who’d escaped the fire and darkspawn in the city, who were just desperate for money.

“Anyway, one of them managed to slash my arm and knock me from my horse. I fell to the ground and hit my head. I was dizzy, and my ears were ringing. I thought I was done for.”

Fergus paused and looked to Liss expectantly, and she obliged him with a response. “Don’t you know how to defend yourself? Mother would be so very disappointed.”

Fergus rolled his eyes, but continued with the same level of enthusiasm. “It didn’t take long for me to notice the men had stopped their attack, and the one who landed the blow to my arm was on the ground clutching a wounded leg. The others were yelling at this Grey Warden, blaming him for the loss of their families and livelihoods.”

Liss leaned forward, chin in her hands. “A Grey Warden?”

He nodded. “A Grey Warden. One of the men tossed a dagger at him, but then another Grey Warden showed up, this mage who made roots come up from the ground to shield her comrade.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m serious.” He shook his head and she believed him. “The men called her some unkind names and she was going to attack them, but the other Warden stopped her and began to talk to the men, sympathize with them. He said he understood and vowed to make it up to them if they’d give him the chance.”

“Mighty noble of someone they just tried to murder,” she said tapping her chin.

“Well,” Fergus said, dropping his gaze to the ground as he kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot, “You know how Nate is.”

Liss’ breath caught in her throat, a noticeable, horribly embarrassing gasp escaping her. She would have sworn her heart stopped for a moment. “Nate?”

“Yes!”

“A Grey Warden?”

“Mhmm.” Fergus nodded and continued on to explain how Nathaniel had landed among the Wardens’ ranks, how he’d returned believing his father had been murdered and his family disgraced for no reason. How he believed he needed to avenge them, but decided to just gather some of his family’s belongings instead, and how he’d been captured and branded a thief for doing so. He would have died had it not been for the Warden-Commander.

“That’s good,” Liss said half-heartedly, “I’m glad he’s not dead.”

Fergus stared at her skeptically for a moment before speaking. “That’s it? I can’t say you’re as excited as I thought you’d be. Still pissed he never wrote?”

“I’ll always be pissed about that. How hard is it to write one damn letter?”

“Pretty hard, depending on who you ask.” Fergus tried and failed to lighten the mood.

“I miss him,” she said, her voice cracking, “And I want him to miss me too.”

Fergus pulled her into an embrace and squeezed tightly, sighing into her hair. “I think you should tell him that.”

“Why,” she asked sharply, voice muffled by Fergus’ shirt, “So he can ignore me for another nine years?”

“No, you idiot,” Fergus said with a frustrated laugh, “So maybe you can be happy again.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, Fergus,” she rasped, tears falling freely and dampening his shirt, “I forgot how.”

“Me too, Sis.” He kissed her hair. “But we have to try.”

#dragon age #dragon age origins #cousland x nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe #cousland #howesland #temperance #update #insomnia update #wooooop #tw: trauma symptoms #my writing

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poisonedviper · 5 years

Text

Beloved Father, Withering Gaze

The great philosopher L’izzo once asked “Why men great ‘til they gotta be great?” An acknowledgement of how too often people will fail to rise to a challenge that they have already shown they could best, only seeming to fail once it is important that the work be done. This established that the greatest failure was one that by all means should have been overcome and had people trusting would be overcome.

L’alor had known many of these failures in his life, and often the words of L’izzo found him in moments between these. His failures had largely defined his life, shaped the path of it, and forced him to adjust his life around the consequences of those failures. He had backed down from important fights, pursued ill-advised business ventures, hurt Meziene, broken his family, and more. These failures found him due to his fear. He had learned that well by now, through harsh example and Meziene’s cutting words in his worst moments. Fear had brought him nothing but failure, and he had been shown how continued fear would only cost him more. It would cost him everything.

The moment of that revelation had come at the same time as a new command from the Viper, his authority as the Architect of War mandated. It was not a post he could refuse, nor one he could afford to fail in. Whether in the Viper’s humor or anger, the position came at the heart of L’alor’s fears. It forced him to fight and hurt people, to kill. The act that had always haunted him, chased after his thoughts and called to him. The propagation of the Venom depended on it, but it also was nature to him. It was something that often brought the question to him if the Venom made him a monster, or if he had the Venom because he was a monster; he had still never decided. What mattered was that to be the Architect of War he would have to kill, or his tribe would be in danger.

The Viper was merciful, in Its own way, and did not immediately give him a task. He would be on call, as always. It gave him time to deal with his fears. The calling of the Venom had always been a strong fear of his, heeding that unknown urge that he felt when it was strong within in and he was near certain people. Raceaux Eleftheriou had always been one of those people, and later into Raceaux’s incarceration L’alor had felt the call more. When Meziene had chosen the night of her revenge, L’alor had taken the chance to heed the call after his family had left.

That night had confirmed something for him. If he wanted to be great, he would have to stop being afraid of himself.

L’alor felt better after that night than he had in nearly a year. The pain of his Venom had been reduced drastically, his strength had been returned in full, and his mind was clear again. On top of his returned self, L’alor had been bolstered with confidence. Facing his fear and actually following his desires had proven right before, and he would try again.

Ishgard had become L’alor’s home. His attempts to become the Beloved Father, another dark figure of Ishgard that dealt in favors and blackmail to move the city along his desired path, had gone terribly. There had been minor success, but when it mattered most he had been undone. He wasn’t one to play in the shadows.

Lord Alucar Alluindre had left him beaten and broken in an alleyway, alive but wracked with great pain. The Lord had proven himself beyond the shadowed reach of the Beloved Father, and Ishgard would never regard the Beloved Father as anything of note so long as the Lord walked around without reprimand.

L’alor had had to keep Meziene back from killing the man, taking away his chance to try again to establish the Beloved Father. She would kill him without an issue, from the shadows, leaving the man’s body somewhere to be found by servants, only questions left in the scene. Impossible to connect back to her, but the whispers of Ishgard telling the story she wanted. It was awe inspiring to see, but it was not a way L’alor could match. The Beloved Father could not act the same as the Revered Mother, he would have to be what felt right.

If the Revered Mother was to be the shadowy grip on Ishgard, the Beloved Father would have to be the withering gaze that the city could see was watching them.

Flyers had scattered about the city. House Alluindre’s worst secret printed all over it, slandering Lord Alucar as a kidnapper. Babes stolen right from their mother’s arms, raised without knowledge of where they came from, and pretended to be the heirs of House Alluindre by Alucar. Anyone that spoke of the matter was greeted with the swift wrath of Alucar, all of his influence and power brought against them to ruin reputation or worse. He would fight tooth and nail to keep the secret labeled a lie, if it had to be spoken of at all.

Which was exactly why L’alor had signed his title, the Beloved Father, to each of the flyers, so Alucar would know who wrote it.

The public that read the flyers though did not get that far. Whether they had known the secret or not before the flyers crossed their path was irrelevant. Everyone had the information now, and it didn’t matter if they thought it was true or not. They gathered in front of the estate of House Alluindre, a mixture of mob and onlookers. Some called for the truth, some just called for the punishment of Alucar; the response depended on the speaker’s opinion and fear of Alucar.

The guards of House Alluindre were pressing back against the crowd, weapons keeping them at bay from crossing the estate lines. They would keep them back long enough for the city guards to come, if nothing else happened. Then Alucar happened.

The front gates to the estate rushed open, a cadre of guards marching out with Alucar himself at the head. The guards pushed back at the crowd, forcing space for their Lord to occupy. His face was spitting mad, lines of anger crossing the visage and sharpening his gaze over the crowd.

“Who wrote this?!” He shouted. He was a slandered noble and deserved his anger at the mob suddenly at his house; that’s how he would likely try to spin it anyways. “Who has spread these lies about my children?! Step forward now, I order you!”

Replies shot forward from the crowd. Some calling for similar truth. Others berating Alucar; Meziene’s voice rang out from the crowd, joining with those chastising the Lord. Alucar couldn’t focus on anyone in particular, his eyes widening in anger. His guards stepped forward, prepared to move into the crowd and make arrests of their own.

“I wrote it,” came from a voice in the crowd, firm and resolute. The speaker couldn’t be seen entirely among the crowd, but their tanned hand bearing a moonstone ring could be.

The crowd parted in front of the speaker, separating at their own curiosity and the prods of other Ishgardians. The split before him allowed L’alor, garbed in his work clothes and many weapons, to face Alucar fully, lowering his hand as he stepped forward.

“You,” Alucar all but hissed. “You have gone too far this time! I will not let this slide, I will have justice for this!”

“That’s exactly what I came here for,” L’alor said evenly.

“Someone call the Inquisitors! I want this man arrested and charged for slander!” Alucar shouted, swinging an arm at the unmoving crowd.

“Yes, bring the Inquisitors!” L’alor shouted back, watching Alucar. “Let them come and investigate this claim I have made. Let them find the truth of it out.”

Alucar quirked a brow at L’alor, confused for a moment. He knew what the Miqo’te was trying. Bringing the Inquisition in to investigate would, in theory, expose Alucar for what he had done. Alucar wasn’t worried about that though, he would use his influence and wealth to make sure the investigation went in his favor; it wouldn’t have been the first time. He smirked inwardly, making sure to keep his anger placid on his face even if it had faded away now. This was just another time where the upstart had tried to win and failed, but this time it wouldn’t be an alleyway in the Brume he got left in.

“Or, we can let Halone settle this,” L’alor followed up with, breaking Alucar’s train of thought. “She can decide who is telling the truth.”

Alucar’s look of anger wasn’t fake anymore. The mob shouted loudly at that comment, invoking the justice of Halone was always a way to get Ishgard going. Whether faithful or just ceremonial, the reaction was called for all the same. What made Alucar mad though was the scenario it established. He had been challenged now, formally in the sight of Halone, and if he refused he might as well admit guilt to the mob gathered. Regardless of what the courts decided after, this mob would whisper and rumor across the city until the truth would be solidified by the court of public opinion; which would eventually demand a real investigation he may not be able to sway.

“Unless you are afraid, Alucar,” L’alor added.

Alucar sneered at the man, shouting to his guards. “Bring me my armor!”

The guards around the Lord looked back to their master, giving a confused look. “Sir?”

“I said, bring me my armor!” Alucar shouted again, gesticulating back towards the estate harshly.

Two of the guards ran off hurriedly. Alucar’s eyes never left L’alor, watching him with a mixture of fury and disgust at the scene he had dragged Alucar into. Still, Alucar was a veteran of the Dragonsong War and a soldier worth every bit of his reputation, even after all these years. He would remove this troublesome Miqo’te, and then deal with the consequences that would surely come. The last thought coming with a glance at Meziene who was still in the crowd, next to a large figure carrying a broadsword across his back. Consequences would surely come.

For his own part, L’alor just stood there patiently. The crowd watching with pent up excitement at the knowledge of what was to come. Some had heard of the Beloved Father, a mixture of good and bad equally spackled about that reputation, but many knew about Lord Alucar. They expected a fight that was quick and interesting.

Alucar’s guards, and a few servants, returned before the charge in the air could die down, and their carrying his battle-scarred armor and large sword only enhanced the excitement. They dressed him quickly, Alucar’s eyes riveted on L’alor with each strap and buckle affixed into place. The dark plate and draped fabrics had seen him through battles with dragons and worse, and all of it still fit just well enough. The sword felt right in his grip still, balanced and at home.

L’alor grabbed at the harness around his outfit, eliciting a sound from the crowd as they expected him to draw a weapon from the array affixed to him. Instead his fingers pulled at the central buckle and split it apart. The weapons clattered to the ground, scurried away by a man in robes from the crowd who disappeared from view moments later. Alucar had always chosen his armor and weapons, and L’alor wanted to win the fight at the disadvantage.

If the move had phased Alucar he didn’t show it, instead stepping forward with a swipe of his sword through the air to create the dissonant whistling sound. With a satisfied nod he lunged at L’alor, sword leading the charge and cutting upwards to end the fight in one move.

L’alor rolled backwards as the strike came towards him, putting himself out of reach of the blade’s swing. Normally he would have continued to roll back until he had reached his feet again, and from there strike at Alucar in quick strikes meant to wear the man down. It had been a tactic he was taught as a child, a way to keep from severely wounding other Tias in fights. He would wear them down over time and win that way, but the other Tia would walk away. It was taught so he would hold back and not have enough time to deliver a terrible blow, or worse. The tactic had followed L’alor for all of his life, carrying even in his style as he grew up and left the tribe. Only against large monsters had he allowed himself to follow his desire to strike harshly and fatally, and even then it was restricted.

L’alor did not continue to roll back. His hands planted on the ground behind him and pushed, arms uncoiling to spring him towards Alucar, feet first. The strike caught the knight by surprise, the hard kick into his armored gut stumbling him. L’alor was inside of Alucar’s reach now, more difficult to strike with the sword. As L’alor bounced up from the kick he lifted his fists to punch at Alucar’s armored chest. Alucar thought quicker of the situation and threw himself forward into a rush on L’alor, using his larger size and armored weight to strike the Miqo’te’s whole body at once. L’alor went with the rush, doing all he could to keep his feet beneath him and pace backwards as the rush continued. He didn’t know what Alucar was aiming for, but he could guess it wouldn’t be a good landing.

L’alor took in a deep breath as he stepped back, foot planting firmly as aether swarmed into him and flowed towards his foot. It threaded him into the very stone beneath him, locking him into position. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it would be better than getting smashed between Alucar and whatever was coming up. His knees bent and he release Alucar. The knight barrel right onward, feet pounding over L’alor as he went, right into the stone pillar he had been aiming for but with too much momentum to stop. He crashed into it with a resounding thud, armor scraping against the stonework with a ear-splitting screech.

L’alor, bruised and likely worse from the change, released the aether around him and moved. He wouldn’t have much time until Alucar recovered and spun. With the screech still in the air he pounced, fists balling together and slamming into Alucar’s backside. The force of the blow threw the man into the pillar again, eliciting a cough as the wind left his body. L’alor’s hands snaked forward to grab at the front of Alucar’s armor, pulling back as he stepped aside and throwing Alucar onto the ground harshly. The armored knight skidded for a moment across the stone, clearly dazed by the turn of events.

L’alor lunged again, going high and curling, feet prepared to slam into the knight. Alucar’s sword rose at the perfect moment, as L’alor was too close to dodge but before he could strike. It bit deep into L’alor’s arm, covering the two men in Miqo’te blood. L’alor landed to the side with a hiss, other hand rushing up to cover the wound. His arm felt like it was on fire and was starting to feel heavier.

Alucar recovered from his prone position quickly, leaving no time to pause. He rushed at L’alor with a downward chop, targeting his weakened side. L’alor slid his foot backwards and twisted away from the strike, completing the circle and bringing his foot up to kick. The sole of his foot launched into Alucar’s hand harshly, battering the bone beneath the armor with trembling force. It wouldn’t break the hand, he hadn’t put enough power into it for that, but it sent enough momentum in to break Alucar’s grip. His sword went flying towards the crowd, thankfully clattering to the ground before it could hurt anybody.

The moment of indecision Alucar had between going for his sword and continuing to fight L’alor cost him. L’alor’s foot planted on the ground, firming his stance, and his hands shot for Alucar. They both gripped at his chest plate, one along the neck and the other at the hip. His arms tensed and swung upwards, lifting Alucar off the ground and over L’alor’s head, and then continuing the arc to throw Alucar right into the stone floor of Ishgard.

Alucar hit the ground with a sickening crunch, flopping over on to his stomach as L’alor released him. His head had just settled from the recoil of the flop when L’alor grabbed it, yanking off the helmet and hoisting Alucar partially up by the hair. His bloodied and bruised face looking out at the crowd of onlookers, pain and a merciless awakeness in his eyes.

A silence fell over the crowd. Cheers and gasps died in their mouths as the question filled the silent air around them all. Was this an execution?

The question played in L’alor’s mind as well. Alucar had left him nearly dead and had threatened to leave it complete this time. He had done terrible things beyond even the wrongs L’alor had charged him with. Killing him would be simple, and with the duel announced before the crowd he could even claim the legal right. His hands stayed as they were though, other questions coming to his mind. Alucar may have deserved to die, but what would it benefit? He was not evil as Raceaux was and his soul did not deserve to be taken, so his death would not bring peace to many as Raceaux’s had did to Meziene. His children, stolen or not, were raised by him and would be without who they had always known as a father. Would he raise children to be as dark as him though? The children could not go back to their mother. They did not know her and she couldn’t support them if she wanted to. Terrible as it was, Alucar was needed to support the children and bring them happiness. L’alor knew he did that, at least. It still didn’t make it right, but it made it different.

“You will bring the mother of your children into your home!” L’alor shouted. He spoke to Alucar, but he announced his command to the whole of the crowd. “She will sit at your side as the Lady Alluindre, and you will submit all power of the house to her! She shall live by your side, with all control over the wealth and power of House Alluindre, and she shall raise your children with you. This is my edict!” He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink into Alucar’s damaged ears. “Do you accept?”

Alucar’s voice croaked a moment later, hoarsely shouting to the crowd in his reply. He understood the moment for what it was. “I accept! By the grace of Halone, I accept!”

L’alor released Alucar’s hair, his head falling back to the stones. L’alor walked away, heading towards the crowd, while Alucar’s soldiers rushed behind him to gather up their Lord and return him to the house. L’alor parted his way into the crowd, gathering back his harness of weapons, and heading towards a figure in the crowd with a smile. His wife.

#story #Beloved Father

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traditional-with-a-twist · 5 years

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iv. Beauty and Her Beast

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In her deepest moments of loss, Shirayuki would withdraw from the world around her.

As if the shock had raised raw nerves to the surface of her skin, she shrank from contact, recoiled from discovery.

She hid her wound inside herself, where nothing could expose it, and no one could touch it.

When possible, she hid it even from herself.

...

Between her grief and those who would intrude on it, she interposed a veneer of composure. Under this facade, she continued to perform her daily roles with the promptitude of a marionette.

Shirayuki was no actress. Her ingrained forthrightness prevented her from delivering a convincing performance.

The best she could manage was a semblance of her usual activity.

She drifted from place to place, haunting the castle like a ghost of her former self, sketching the motions of a princess-to-have-been, a bereaved fiancée, even a royal pharmacist, but her timing was off.

She spoke at the wrong moment; she answered questions that no one had asked; she delivered her charge to the wrong recipient. She unmade whatever she had finished minutes before in an unconscious, anxious movement of her hands, left to their own disposal.

Sometimes she trailed off, looking away as if listening to something else.

Her eyes traced the path that led away from Wistal Castle, followed the road the royal knights had ridden east, lingering on the horizon in unanswered expectation.

Although she knew better, it was impossible to shake the conviction that she would see him again.

...

Their last good-bye--a public ceremony before the castle gates, enacted before hundreds of watching eyes--was no better than a pause, a question mark in the middle of a paragraph.

Whenever she had needed him, Zen had found his way to her. From the depths of a hidden manor to the endless expanse of an ocean, he searched her out like a beacon.

There was no wall high enough, no cavern deep enough, to keep him from her side.

Any moment now, her heart persisted in imagining, she might hear his voice again, see his smile, feel his hand in hers.

She knew better, but the deception lingered.

It trebled her desire for concealment. A hope spun of wishes and self-imposed forgetfulness could not bear the rough handling of another’s scrutiny.

Shirayuki veiled her longings and her agonies in assumed fortitude, swaddled all of it in feigned equanimity. Brittle as an eggshell, the false poise clothed her, made her fit for company.

When the fragile illusion threatened to crack, she fled.

...

That day, with servants thronging the hallways, torches amassed in preparation for the mourners’ march, a walkway of white sand strewn to guide their steps, and wreaths of heartsease ladening the air with their perfume--Shirayuki felt herself unequal to bearing the weight of the public eye.

She flinched from the presence of another human being; her feet turned aside from each chance encounter.

She made her escape without forethought, starting from corner to corner like the quarry in a hunt, retreating deeper into the maze of Wistal’s walls until she found herself alone.

The battlements rose to the height of the heavens on either side of her, uninterrupted even by windows. She had traded blank faces for staring stone blocks, but it was enough.

It would require an eagle eye to spy her out there.

With the bonds of society relaxed, her hurt welled up and overflowed. It burst from the hidden place where she had suppressed it.

It brought her to her knees.

There Obi found her, tossed in the storm of a loss she could not bring herself to name, where she least expected another soul to venture.

There he forgot himself in loving her.

There he left her.

...

At first, Shirayuki had felt Obi’s absence as she felt everything good in her life slipping away.

The changes began with the war: research suspended, austerity measures introduced, the brisk predictability of castle life devoured by the hectic pace of impending crisis...and then Zen’s proposal.

Shirayuki set her face to the new path with the same spirit she had always confronted destiny. Determined to do her best, grudging no sacrifice, privately cherishing hopes for the future, she had accepted the offer of Zen’s hand and promised to never look back.

Then the war had ended.

Her love, her work, her friends--they had fallen from her like broken rock, shearing off the cliff and crashing into the sea. She stood alone on a precipice now, swaying before the brink.

...

No door was closed to a member of the royal family, even a premature one, but neither was there a place for her in the greenhouses anymore. Her desk was cleared, her uniform packed away; they would conduct trials for a new apprentice soon.

The book of her life as a pharmacist had closed; she might take it down from its shelf and look over the pages she had labored to record, but she would never add another entry.

Nor would she continue training to assume the fullness of her role as Second Princess of Clarines. The office no longer existed.

She was caught in suspended animation, like a creature on the verge of flight, frozen in amber.

...

In her bewildered displacement, there were no familiar faces to offer her a kind look or a friendly word.

Kiki and Mitsuhide had ridden away with the royal cavalry, and they had returned as strangers.

They wore different uniforms: black, like the servants’ new livery and the drapes that covered the windows.

The warmth had left their eyes.

They never smiled.

...

And Obi? The once callous enemy who had become her shadow, then her guard, and at last her friend?

Obi had gone away for days at a time before, engaged on tasks of some vague and undefined nature, some understanding between him and Zen that Shirayuki had never felt the need to inquire into.

She worked around his absence, as one would make adjustments on a still day for the lack of a breeze.

Her responsibilities in the pharmacy might take longer, her hours might be quieter, but she didn’t mind it, because she knew he would be back.

The gaps in Obi’s attendance made up a layer in the pattern of her days, predictable in their unpredictability.

...

If she wondered what could be keeping him, now that the voice directing his movements had fallen silent, she refused to articulate this question, even to herself.

It tread too near the door in her mind that she was holding closed with all her strength--it was better to think nothing of the incongruity, so that there was no need to remind herself of the circumstances that made it so.

It never occurred to her that those same circumstances might have effected a permanent change in Obi’s position with respect to herself--that even this, his presence in her life, might fall away.

She couldn’t allow the possibility that Obi might not come back.

...

When he appeared to her again at last, she caught hold of him as a drowning sailor would seize a rope in a storm.

He was the last element of her life before the war, the last familiar landmark that hadn’t changed.

When he vanished, she was adrift again.

#Akagami no Shirayukihime #zenyuki #obiyuki #references major character death #PurePassion #Beauty and Her Beast #indepth with Shirayuki's grieving process #this chapter was a bear to write!#bringing all the threads together #P.S.#reviews are manna #THANK YOU #love how you connected Raj's offer #to Obi's later doubts #stay tuned for Kiki chapters!

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tough-girl9 · 6 years

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I decided to compile a list of all the Strange Magic fics I want to write in one place...

Afterwards

Post-movie two-shot. After their confession, Bog and Marianne have to decide where to go from here. Featuring Bog and Marianne navigating a very awkward, cute, shy first date, discussing Marianne’s dreams of uniting the kingdoms, and wanting very badly to hold hands but not being sure how to go about it.

Alone

Short one-shot. On one side of the border, a goblin king’s loneliness and hidden hunger to be loved eat away at his heart. On the other side of the border, a fairy princess sobs herself to sleep on what would have been her wedding night. A feel-good little character study type of thing comparing Bog and Marianne before they meet and after.

Beauty and the Beast

One-shot. Bog is in bed with a fever, so Marianne decides to share one of her favorite stories from her childhood with him. ButterflyBog fluff with a fairy version of the Beauty and the Beast tale, and Marianne and Bog bantering about how their own story fits.

Blue Eyes and Purple Wings

Multi-chapter AU. A fairy child and a goblin boy happen to meet on the border of two kingdoms and an unexpected friendship blossoms between light and dark. I know it’s been done before, but it’s too cute an idea not to try my hand at a version of it.

Boggy Woggy

Short one-shot. Marianne knew that the Bog King utterly despises Roland. What she never expected was to one day walk in on her current fiance attempting to strangle her ex. Inspired by a conversation with a friend who wanted to know how Bog would react to someone other than Dawn calling him “Boggy.”

Concerning Children

One-shot. With their wedding in the near future, Bog and Marianne have a serious discussion about what will happen to their kingdoms once they are married and the conversation turns to children. Marianne thinks they are discussing possibilities in case a goblin and a fairy are not able to have a child together. Bog thinks they are discussing the topic for a very different reason. Bog being his usual insecure self that can’t imagine Marianne desiring him, and Marianne reassuring him that that’s definitely not the case.

The Dark Side of the Moon

Multi-chapter fic. Not in the same continuity as most of my post-movie fics. Two kingdoms united, a fairy queen wedded to a goblin king, and dreams come true. But Roland has not yet given up on the throne and puts a new plan in action that could ruin everything. Dark and angsty, involving Roland attempting to have Bog assassinated, stealing the throne, and coercing Marianne into being his queen, Marianne striking a terrible deal with Roland to allow her unborn child and the rightful heir to live, and Sunny and Dawn leading an uprising against Roland.

Dates and Questions

One-shot. About a month into their relationship, Marianne and Bog are out for a date and find the courage to start asking each other some of the questions they’ve been wondering about, to learn a bit more about each other and put some of the myths surrounding their respective cultures to rest. Total fluff and humor with some exploration of fairy and goblin cultures.

Different Is What I Like

One-shot. When Bog finds his eldest daughter in tears, he finds himself giving her the same comfort that he had once given the woman who would become his wife. Bog as a father and teenage Princess Rosalind struggling with her biracial identity.

Double Date

One-shot. About a month after the events of the movie, Dawn and Sunny are planning an outing together, but when Dawn invites Marianne and Bog for a double date, things get a little awkward for a certain elf who is still a bit wary of his future brother-in-law. ButterflyBog, Potionless, and Bog & Sunny bonding.

An Eye For Beauty

Character study type of one-shot. Bog has a knack for seeing beauty in the most diverse and unexpected places, Marianne notices. There seems to be only one place where Bog can only find ugliness.

Fairy Princess, Goblin King

Human AU one-shot? That could possibly turn into more? Bogdan Kingsley is well aware that he has no life. The only thing he really enjoys are his weekly LARP group where he can immerse himself in his fantasy alter-ego of the dreaded goblin king. But when a newcomer joins the group, Bog finds his life turned upside-down.

Fairy Wings and Ferris Wheels

One-shot (or possibly two or three-shot with fairly short chapters) Human AU. Marianne, Dawn, Bog, and Sunny participate in a scavenger hunt challenge at their favorite theme park. Bog and Marianne being aggressively competitive dorks, Dawn and Sunny being cute together and pretending like they don’t know those two animals who are taking bumper car competition waaaay too seriously, and sisterly bonding.

Handsome

Three or Four Shot. Bog is happier than he’s ever been with his beautiful, fiery fairy girlfriend. But a chance reminder of his own hideousness sends him spiraling into worry and doubt over whether he is good enough for Marianne. So he goes to Sugar Plum Fairy for a different sort of potion, but Bog’s plans don’t go quite as he expected. Angst with lots of hurt/comfort fluff.

I Could Have Lost You

One-shot. During a tender moment, Bog becomes deeply distraught. As Marianne seeks to comfort her husband, she learns that he is still haunted by a moment from their past. My take on Bog’s guilt over coming so close to killing Marianne on the night they met.

I Think I Love You

One-shot. Marianne still caught her cheating fiance, but feeling emboldened by her freed self that has emerged, she decides to go to the Dark Forest to prove her dream of peace is possible. She finds the last thing she expected: a friend who understands heartbreak just as well as she does. But then, when everything is perfect, she has to go and mess it all up. I know it’s been done before multiple times, but I want to try my hand at it. Friends to lovers (when everyone but the two of them are well aware of what is transpiring and bets are being placed on who ends up kissing the other one first).

I Wish I Had Boys

Two-shot. In which the Fairy King gets his wish, and makes the effort to get to know his future sons-in-law a little better. Dagda & Sunny and Dadga & Bog bonding time.

Kidnapped!

One-shot. When Bog went to sleep that night, the last thing he expected was to be kidnapped. In which Marianne gives Bog a taste of his own kidnapping medicine and takes advantage of having a sexy goblin king in her power.

A King’s Wrath

One-shot. Marianne makes the mistake of confronting Bog in front of his servants when he’s chewing them out. Bog responds with seeming aggression and anger, damaging Marianne’s trust in him, but afterwards he comes to her privately to apologize and explain to her that goblins rule in a very different way than fairies.

A Lesson in Love

One-shot. Marianne couldn’t love her goblin boyfriend more, except for one thing. Every time he disparages himself or suggests that he is not enough, it is like a dagger in her heart. And so she decides to break her insecure boyfriend of the habit once and for all by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Lovestruck

Multi-chapter AU. My take on the “what if it was Bog who got a face-full of love potion” scenario, because it’s just too delicious not to explore.

Meat

One-shot. Early in their relationship, Marianne stays for a meal in the Dark Forest with Bog and is confronted by a reality that she knows she should have realized beforehand but still can’t help but be deeply disturbed by, and she realizes she’s going to have to make a decision about whether she can truly accept Bog for who he is and everything that entails. Based on my headcanon that fairies do not eat meat.

Monster

One-shot. Bog overhears a group of fairies gossiping about their princess and her monstrous paramour. When Bog doesn’t show up for their date, Marianne goes looking for her lover.

Nothing Goes As Planned

One-shot. Both Bog and Marianne long to be parents, but they are beginning to think it might not be possible for them. Bittersweet Bog/Marianne bonding and comfort and discussions about alternatives to having biological children.

Oh You Scaly-Backed Cockroach

One-shot. Bog overhears (OK eavesdrops on) Marianne talking to Dawn about him. What he learns about how Marianne sees him is startling to him, but he decides to put this new piece of knowledge to the test, even if it takes him decidedly outside of his comfort zone.

One Fateful Day

Two or Three Shot most likely. Fifteen years ago, Bog almost ruined the life of the girl he loved and he’s lived with the guilt of his deed ever since. Now, he decides he finally needs to do what he should have done all those years ago and finally put the ghosts of That Fateful Day to rest. Bog-centric, but also deals with Marianne’s trust issues. I haven’t run across many fics that really deal with Bog’s guilt and shame for attempting to use the potion or him trying to make amends for what he did, so this is my attempt to explore that.

Only Fools Rush In

Multi-chapter fic. An alternate ending to Strange Magic where the “Tell Him/Her” confessions never took place and Marianne is not quite so sure she’s ready to give her heart to another man, even one like Bog. Basically, my attempt to explore what I felt would have been a more satisfying ending, where Marianne and Bog are not rushed into confessing their feelings and both of them have more time to wrestle with their hang-ups surrounding romance and finally come together on their own terms when they feel ready.

The Prisoner

Multi-chapter AU. When she marries the love of her life and the handsomest fairy in the kingdom, Marianne expects Happily Ever After. When King Roland declares war on the Dark Forest and takes the goblin ruler as a prisoner, Marianne gets something else entirely. On the dark and angsty side.

See You At the Dark Forest

Multi-chapter Human AU. Marianne and Dawn decide to check out the Dark Forest Café, and Dawn becomes quite smitten with the tall, dour owner. Marianne, on the other hand, is decidedly less smitten.

Stormy Evening

One-shot. An unexpected storm keeps Marianne a prisoner in the Dark Castle. She and Bog find plenty of ways to pass the time however. Fluff, make-out sessions, and Marianne and Bog having a conversation about Bog’s Obliviousness to the fact that he totally a goblin stud.

Unclad

Short one-shot. Bog finds himself worrying over whether his state of…undress is embarrassing to Marianne.

Unmarked

Multi-chapter Soulmate mark AU. Marianne has always had a strange dream about a place where light and dark meet, where blue eyes meet hers from the darkness, and a clawed hand with a mark that matches hers reaches out to seize her wrist. But the dream is pushed aside when she meets a dashing blond fairy with a matching mark and knows she’s met her soulmate. But nothing is quite what it seems, on either side of the border. Unabashed cliché, I know, but I don’t think I’ve run across a Strange Magic soulmate mark AU, so why not? In which Roland is his usual terrible, lying self and Marianne meets a goblin king who is mysteriously Unmarked.

Wedding Bells

One-shot (or possibly two-shot). ButterflyBog wedding! As Bog prepares for his wedding with old goblin customs, he shares a tender moment with the person who never gave up on seeing her boy happy beyond his wildest dreams. Bog & Griselda bonding, goblin wedding traditions, and the royal wedding of the century.

Where the Asters Bloom

One-shot. One day, Marianne notices that Bog seems particularly distracted. As it turns out, today is a day with special meaning for Bog and he decides to introduce Marianne to someone very dear to him. Bittersweet fluff with some exploration into Bog’s childhood and fairy and goblin customs surrounding death.

#strange magic #spread the lofe #fanfiction #fics I want to write #fic list #strange magic fanfiction #fanfiction.net #ao3

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