#the way to get into the forest queen's glade is through a door

[thetasteofsunshineonyourtongue]

ID: A gif of Travis Matagot, his arms swept out and his mouth open in declaration, standing in front of an open door. He is holding his hat in one hand, a bag and wheellock, the 16th century predecessor to the gun, in a holster at his belt. Gable and the nervous hunter are sitting at a table before him, with Gable’s face turned toward him, their arms resting on the table. You can only see the hands of the hunter resting on the edge of the table. There are fireflies in the room that flicker gently. The image next to it is a still of the gif. End ID.

the time we took something from one another

[beybladefanfictions]

Beyblade One-Shot: Constellations

(Author’s Note: Yeah, this is really random. I got this idea of Ryuga and Kenta looking at constellations together and thought it would make a cute one-shot. This takes place in my fanfiction’s continuity after what is currently the newest Ryuga x King chapter: A Departing Battle, but this was written recently while those chapters are a month old now. This isn’t needed to understand anything going on there but I thought it was cute so I’m publishing it on its own. Anyways, enjoy!)

Ryuga’s POV

The night sky glistened through the treetops above Ryuga as he made his way through the familiar forest. A cool night breeze blew his white jacket back and forth. A peaceful aura surrounded him. The only sound was the slight ruffling of the leaves and Ryuga’s footsteps.

Ryuga suddenly stopped. Around him, the trees parted, allowing him to see the stars in all their glory. Without those irksome city lights, the stars glowed much brighter, like specks of gemstones, and more colours glowed around them. Ryuga had a contempt for big cities. They were generally loud and packed and their light tainted this beautiful night sky.

A new sound suddenly filled the air. Footsteps.

“Ryuga?”

“Hm?” Ryuga looked over his shoulder. Kenta was walking toward him, holding out a flashlight.

“I figured you’d be here,” Kenta replied, lowering the flashlight as he went to stand beside him. “What are you doing out after dark?”

“Getting fresh air…” Before Kenta could reply, Ryuga added, “Calm down, your parents know where I am.”

“You told them?”

“Mhm.” Ryuga nodded.

“Okay…” Kenta muttered to himself. “Good…” As Kenta texted his parents, Ryuga looked back up at the sky.

“Are you… looking at the stars?”

Ryuga looked away. “…maybe.”

He’d never told anyone about this appreciation of his. It probably seemed strange for someone like him to appreciate something like this.

Kenta smiled. “Do you know any of the constellations?”

“Just Draco,” Ryuga replied, with a shrug.

He had to admit he didn’t really see the point in assigning shapes to stars that were in reality, billions of kilometres away from each other. Why not just appreciate their beauty for what it was? There was no point in assigning silly stories to all of them. Still, Ryuga obviously knew about Draco, the constellation his bey, L-Drago, was based on. He could even see it now. The head was a small triangle and the body was the long twisting line of stars behind it, as if it were twisting its body around the way an Asian dragon would.

“Not even Sagittarius?” Kenta asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sagittarius?” Ryuga froze. That’s right: Sagittarius was a summer constellation as well. He scanned the sky. However, he didn’t even have a basic idea of what the constellation was supposed to look like.

Kenta chuckled. “It’s right there.” He pointed at the night sky, forming some complex shape with his finger as if tracing the stars.

Ryuga tilted his head to the side. “Can you be more specific?”

“Here…” Kenta sat down on the ground. Ryuga sat next to him without a second thought. “Right there.” He pointed again. “That open triangle part is the legs.” He moved his finger up. “That long line is the body. Then that part is the arm and the part that goes out in the three directions is the bow.” Kenta held his hands out like he was holding a bow.

“Looks like a bunch of dots to me,” Ryuga grunted, his eyes narrowed.

Kenta shrugged. “Madoka showed me that one in Koma Village,” he informed, gazing at him with a smile. “Since then, I’ve been really interested in constellations. During the World Tournament, when I was left at home…” There was a pang of sadness in his voice at those words. “I started studying them since I had so much time. I can name most of the major ones.”

“How do you remember all that?” Ryuga asked, admittedly a little stunned. 

“Well almost all of them have Beyblades based on them,” Kenta explained, looking back at the sky. “So I remember that way. Like right there…” He pointed at a cluster of stars that formed a triangle. “That’s Aquila, like Tsubasa’s Earth Eagle. I remember that because the corners of the triangle look a bit like wings and that one can be the head.”

Ryuga gazed at his friend silently. *Is this where these constellations came from? The mind of a child?*

“Seems like a stretch,” Ryuga replied with a shrug.

“Oh, come on, Ryuga,” Kenta nudged Ryuga’s shoulder. “You have no imagination.”

Ryuga rolled his eyes. “What are the rest of these?” he asked, laying down in the grass.

Kenta laid down as well. “Well…” He searched the sky for a few moments. “There’s part of Aquarius. It’s a little harder to see in July but you can see the tail part.” Kenta trailed his finger over the stars as if he were drawing a line on top of them to connect them.

Ryuga looked away. Aquarius… it was the constellation of the bey, Aquario. The one blader Ryuga knew with an Aquario bey was Hikaru. Guilt pricked his heart.

“Ooh!” Kenta perked up. “There’s Cygnus! The swan constellation.” Kenta gazed at Ryuga with a smile. “Fun story about that one, Yuki and Gingka told me how that constellation helped them find one of the Legendary Bladers by pointing the way into a temple.”

Ryuga raised an eyebrow. “A constellation did that?”

Kenta nodded. “Yeah, there were these rock pillars in front of it, right? And to open the door to the temple, Yuki had to fire his bey through the pillars with holes, forming the shape of the Cygnus constellation.” Kenta sighed, lying back down. “I wish I could’ve been there to see that.”

Ryuga’s jaw clenched. “No, you don’t.”

“Huh?” Kenta sat up again, tilting his head to the side.

Ryuga looked away, surprised at the jealousy that had suddenly pricked him like a needle.

“If you’d stayed with them, you never would have been friends with me,” Ryuga grunted, his fingers digging into the dirt.

Although Ryuga still somewhat resented how soft Kenta had made him, the idea of them never being friends made him feel sick.

“Right…” Kenta put his arms around Ryuga in a small hug. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’m glad I followed you, and I’m glad we’re friends. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Ryuga relaxed a bit. Kenta let go of him after a few moments, looking back at the sky.

“Um…” He gazed at the sky for a few moments in silence, as if searching for something to talk about. “There’s Pegasus…” He pointed to it.

“Pegasus? In Summer?” Ryuga was stunned. He was sure Pegasus was an Autumn constellation. Wasn’t that the reason Gingka was picked as a Legendary Blader?

“Yeah, you can see it as early as July,” Kenta answered with a nod. “That square is the body, those two lines are the legs, and that curved one is the neck and head.”

“Where are the wings?” Ryuga grunted, annoyance slipping into his tone. “That’s the whole point of Pegasus.”

Kenta shrugged. “Maybe this Pegasus doesn’t need wings to fly, like your L-Drago.”

“Pegasus means winged horse.”

Kenta smirked. “And dragon means winged lizard.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Ryuga blazed with indignation. How dare someone call his L-Drago a mere lizard?!

Kenta giggled into his hand. “According to America, it does.”

“Well, we’re not in America.”

*Thankfully,* Ryuga bit back the word as he remembered King, who had recently returned to America. He looked away, his heart aching.

“Anyways…” Kenta looked back up, pointing at the sky. “And there’s…” He suddenly froze, his eyes going wide.

Concern swept over Ryuga. “What? What is it?”

“S-Serpent…” Ryuga’s heart skipped a beat. “Er- Serpens. The… the snake constellation.” Kenta was suddenly shivering. He turned away, rolling over onto his side.

“Kenta?” Ryuga scooted closer.

His friend wasn’t meeting his gaze. Ryuga knew exactly what Kenta was remembering and that same memory made Ryuga’s blood boil. He opened his mouth to speak.

“I…” Kenta’s voice was weak. “I know I defeated Reiji and everything but…” He wrapped his arms around himself. “He still freaks me out. So many bad memories…”

Ryuga put his arms around Kenta, pulling him into a hug.

“I know,” Ryuga’s voice was soft. “It scared me too.”

Kenta looked up at him. “But you said yourself he can’t do a thing to you.”

“It wasn’t myself I was worried about,” Ryuga replied, pulling Kenta into his chest. “It was you being hurt.”

Kenta returned the hug, letting out a small sob. After a few long breaths, Kenta let go, shuffling away to gaze at the ground. Ryuga froze for a moment. He needed to get Kenta’s mind off that battle…

“What’s that one?” Ryuga nodded in the direction of a zigzag formation of stars.

Kenta glanced at it. “Oh… that’s Cassiopeia… I… don’t really know anyone with a bey like that.”

“Cassiopeia…” Ryuga dipped his head. “The queen from Greek mythology.”

“You know Greek Mythology?” Kenta asked, turning to him.

Ryuga shrugged. “A little. Cassiopeia boasted about… something so Poseidon turned her into a sea monster.”

Kenta raised an eyebrow. “Well, that seems like an overreaction.”

“Everything in Greek mythology was an overreaction to something. Zeus sees anyone? Has… kids with them. Poseidon loses a duel? Curses the city into a drought. Hades sees a pretty girl? Kidnaps her. Athena sees a woman in her sacred temple? Curses her to be a Gorgon. It’s ridiculous.”

“What’s a Gorgon?”

“It’s what Medusa was.”

Kenta flinched. “Wait, Medusa was cursed to be like that?” Ryuga nodded. “Oh…” He looked away. “That makes me feel a little bad for her.”

Ryuga nodded in agreement. He and Kenta looked back at the sky.

“You can’t see all of it but there’s Libra.” Kenta pointed at another cluster of stars, near the edge of the glade. “It kinda looks like a diamond during this time actually.”

Ryuga could see that. He stayed silent as Kenta pointed out more constellations.

“There’s Capricornus, it looks a bit like a goat’s head. And Scorpius…” He moved his finger back and forth in a line. “You can see the stinger. Oh! And of course Hercules, the hero from the Greek myths.” Kenta glanced at him. “Know anything about him?”

Ryuga shrugged. “Just that Hera hated his guts.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The Gods were all jerks. Besides Artemis. She was unproblematic.” *And awesome,* Ryuga thought to himself. 

Kenta raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t she hate men or something?”

Ryuga nodded slowly. “Completely unproblematic.” He couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile at that.

“Ryuga… you’re-you’re a boy…”

Ryuga chuckled. “Boys are the worst.”

“Ryuga, you’re gay.”

Ryuga glanced at his friend with a smile. “Then surely I know better than anyone?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Ryuga and Kenta both chuckled.

Then Kenta let out a yawn. “We should start heading home,” he replied, standing up. “It’s getting late.”

Ryuga nodded, standing up as well. The two of them walked back to the house in silence.

[ecoamerica]

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[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 16: The Village

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

When they finally stopped to rest in a small glade, both he and Aelin were practically gulping down air. The twenty miles had gone quickly, the distance melting beneath their feet until Rowan could hear the sea waves crashing in the distance, and the wind began to whisper to him of the bustle of the people in the nearby town.

But before they attempted to question the villagers, Rowan wanted to visit the site of the dead demi-Fae, confirm that there was nothing more to be learned, and ensure that everything was ready for Malakai’s soldiers to ferry the body to the healers’ compound. He couldn’t sense the body, but as they were barely half a mile from the village, it had to be close by. They could rest for a moment before beginning their search.

As they recovered, Aelin just stood there, breathing heavily and staring at him with those piercing golden eyes. It was strange, but not unwelcome. To be looked at.

So Rowan stared right back at her, studying Aelin as if she were something entirely new. The lines of her face were sharp, aristocratic and refined, while her skin was tan and glowing from so much time spent sitting on those sun-warmed rocks. Freckles dotted her nose, while heat bloomed on her cheeks. Her magic was dormant, but still it pulsed around her, filling the air with power and promise and the smell of vibrant, crackling embers.

The princess was a completely different person to when they first met. It was almost disconcerting to see the entirety of the change, and realize how slow he had been in noticing it. Or maybe it was just this new form of hers – a body so much more familiar to Rowan, its lines and curves so much more like to him than her mortal form, a scent so much more similar to his. In her Fae form, Aelin’s scent spoke more of the woods, of the magic and the wildness of the Fae.

Aelin wiped the sweat from her face, still panting, but seeming invigorated, like she could run for miles more. Her eyes hadn’t left his, but her mind had turned inwards, and he knew that Aelin wasn’t really seeing him. But Rowan saw her, and that newfound attraction ripped through him once again, taking him completely by surprise.

Confusion and disgust immediately followed the shock. Her scent bit at him, her fire wrapping around him like a second skin. His magic automatically pushed back, and the contact felt claustrophobic, an uncomfortable pressure. All the while that sharp, scorching scent coated his throat and nostrils.

Rowan shied away from it, feeling his body ice over, his muscles tensing and his fingers clenching into fists. The princess blinked, finally realizing that she had been staring, and then started slightly at his cold expression. Rowan just turned away, avoiding her gaze and rifling through the small backpack. He tossed her shirt at her, barking, “Change,” then stripped off his own shirt and changed into the spare clothes he’d packed for himself.

When he turned back, the girl had disappeared into the nearby brush, apparently wanting some privacy. He used her momentary absence to gather his thoughts and steel himself once more, pulling his icy armor back on, piece by bitter piece.

His face was a dark mask, hiding the confusing mess that swirled beneath. Rowan locked it up within walls of ice, having absolutely no desire to peer within and discover exactly what they held. He just had to get through a few more months with the princess and then he would be free of her, and could go back to his life from before. To serve his queen as lieutenant and diplomat of Doranelle. Not easy, but simple. Familiar.

Rowan took a drink from his water skein and scanned their surroundings, searching both with his eyes and his winds. The princess returned wearing fresh clothes and he tossed her the skein, which she gulped from greedily.

Rowan sent his power out still farther, feelers snaking through the forest, past large stones and great oaks, secluded meadows and hidden hollows, over creeks and farmsteads and the red-tiled roofs and cobblestone streets of the little village. Then, he felt it, a whisper of a dark figure, lying in the dirt beside a medium-sized river half a mile south of them.

He turned and strode through the trees without explanation, leaving the princess behind in the small glade. They reached the site within a minute or so, the girl only a few steps behind him.

As they approached, Rowan thought that the rancid stench somehow seemed stronger, more potent on the body and its surroundings. Although, after a thorough examination, neither Rowan nor the assassin could find anything else out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was just because the kill was fresher, and the smell had not yet had a chance to dissipate.

As a result, the princess seemed to keep her distance from the body, its foul stench apparently affecting her more strongly than it did Rowan. But soon he realized it was more than just distaste; the scent was triggering something deep within her, stirring some hidden memory. He scented grief…and guilt. But she didn’t acknowledge it, so Rowan did not ask her about it.

Despite her revulsion, the assassin attempted to build a pyre for the unknown demi-Fae, seeking to burn him as they had the female. Rowan held out a hand to stop her, forced to give a quick explanation about the healer’s request, and the imminent arrival of Malakai’s sentries.

She frowned, but nodded her acquiescence. Before she stood, the princess pulled the dead demi-Fae into a more comfortable position, straightening his limbs and folding his arms on his chest. She paused for a moment, sorrow filling her, then bent over the male and closed his eyes for him, a whisper of final words passing her lips.

She turned and strode from the small brook without another word, back towards the village bells they could now hear chiming to the northwest, the scent of remorse trailing after the assassin like a coppery cape.

Rowan cast the male one last look before following her into the wilderness.

···

It wasn’t long before Rowan realized that it hadn’t made one bit of difference bringing the princess along. It was almost impossible to get anyone to approach, let alone to talk to the two Fae strangers. Perhaps the reason that the girl hadn’t been much help was her refusal to shift back into her mortal form, but with her ever-worsening mood, Rowan didn’t want to have to ask her to do anything.

Particularly as he now realized that a strange, angry young woman from Adarlan wearing Fae clothes and without any other belongings would probably not be much better received. And there was the small, but deterrent possibility that if she shifted to mortal, she wouldn’t be able to shift back for the journey tomorrow. And that was a risk Rowan was unwilling to take – twenty miles at a mortal pace with the resentful princess might just kill him.

Windows were shuttered as they passed, people crossed to the other side of the street, and stores that were once open, mysteriously closed their doors. Those that they did manage to corner, had nothing to say.

No, they had not heard of a missing demi-Fae, or any other bodies. No, they had not seen any strange people lurking about. No, livestock were not disappearing, though there was a chicken thief a few towns away. No, they were perfectly safe and protected in Wendlyn, and didn’t appreciate Fae and demi-Fae poking into their business, either.

Rowan carefully maintained calm, banishing his anger and frustration until they were barely ripples at the edges of his form, calling up that vast well of patience from within. Not that it made any difference – they were shunned, as usual. Even when he and the princess split up to cover more ground separately.

Afternoon began to creep up on them, the sun falling lower and lower in the sky as Rowan fell into step beside the girl on the cobbled main street, both of them barely maintaining a reign on their tempers. The princess was particularly annoyed, as the innkeeper had just informed them that he had no vacancies, and they would indeed need their bedrolls tonight. Not that Rowan much cared.

“I could believe it was a half-wild creature if at least some of them knew these people had vanished,” she mused. “But consistently selecting someone who wouldn’t be missed or noticed? It must be sentient enough to know who to target. The demi-Fae has to be a message – but what? To stay away? Then why leave bodies in the first place?”

Rowan’s lips tightened as the princess halted, tugging at the end of her braid. Why indeed?

Apparently, no one in the largest village along this stretch of coastline knew anything at all. Namonora hadn’t heard anything, the other fortresses knew no more than he did, Fenrys hadn’t received any reports while in the capital, and unless these villagers were lying through their teeth – they knew nothing either. There were no rumors, no strange attacks, no thefts, no sightings. Nothing to go on.

The assassin was right, the creature had to have some level of intelligence. And intelligent beings usually killed with some kind of agenda. There was almost always some ulterior motive, or revealing trait. Evil males beat their partners, got into fights, hurt animals, started fires, and then began their killing. And once they did, it wasn’t random – they would target specific people, those they held prejudices against, had offended them in some way, or who they just decided deserved to die.

This creature was a killer of the demi-Fae. Why?

His thoughts began to circle uselessly while the princess remained standing in the street, stopped in front of a clothier’s window. The woman behind the glass saw them standing there, and slashed the curtains shut. Rowan snorted.

The girl turned to face him, indignant. “You’re used to this, I assume?”

“A lot of the Fae who venture into mortal lands have earned themselves a reputation for … taking what they want. It went unchecked for too many years, but even though our laws are stricter now, the fear remains.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Who enforces these laws?”

Rowan smiled darkly, “I do. When I’m not off campaigning, my aunt has me hunt down the rogues.” Or, he went off and did so himself, generally with Gavriel at his side. There was no need to tell the princess that his aunt probably would prefer the mortals’ deference towards her to be fueled as much by terror as it was by respect.

“And kill them?” Her eyes were still narrowed, but the question was without judgement, plain and emotionless.

“If the situation calls for it. Or I just haul them back to Doranelle and let Maeve decide what to do with them.”

Her voice turned wry, “I think I’d prefer death at your hands to death at Maeve’s.”

He almost laughed. “That might be the first wise thing you’ve said to me.”

She paused for a moment, then asked, “The demi-Fae said you have five other warrior friends. Do they hunt with you? How often do you see them?”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, “I see them whenever the situation calls for it. Maeve has them serve her as she sees fit, as she does with me.” His response was clipped, automatic. Words he had said a thousand times before. “It is an honor to be a warrior serving in her inner circle.”

He watched the girl, waiting for a prodding query or insolent remark, for her to voice the thoughts that he knew went through everyone, mortal and immortal alike, when he spoke of his position in Maeve’s court.

Rumors abounded in Doranelle about Maeve’s blood-sworn, and none of them were kind. They also weren’t all untrue. They couldn’t hide what they did in her service, be it torture or kill or maim, and Maeve couldn’t quiet their screams when she punished them, nor could she keep it secret that she bedded some of them. Not that she particularly cared. But if the girl asked him about that, Rowan wasn’t sure that the leash he held on his anger –

“Did you bring any money?” she interrupted, unexpectedly jerking him from his thoughts.

Rowan raised his brows, “Yes. They won’t take your bribes, though.”

“Good. More for me, then.” She pointed at the ‘Confectionery’ sign swinging in the light breeze a few buildings down from them. “If we can’t win them with charm, we might as well win them with our business.”

“Did you somehow not hear what I just – ”

But she already had reached the shop and was pulling the door open, plastering on a false smile so obvious, Rowan though it could have been stuck there with honey and cement.

The confectioner blanched as the two of them entered, fear drenching his scent like an overflowing gutter. But the princess didn’t let her smile falter one bit, instead charming that shopkeeper into letting her buy two boxes of something she called ‘hazelnut truffles,’ and then went from shop to shop, down the whole street, doing the same with every other merchant and trader.

Rowan didn’t say a word as the princess stalked down the road like she owned it, drawing out the merchants and managing to make them believe it, too. It was almost impressive, the way she used clever lies, a quick wit, and a few coins to completely transform their attitude towards her. She completely won them over, until the street was bustling with people once again, merchants pushing their wares at them, young men clamoring for a word with the pretty female, and the innkeeper suddenly finding a vacancy that was “just perfect for the young couple!”

No matter his irritation, Rowan kept his mouth shut during the whole ordeal, dutifully carrying the many bags and boxes the princess acquired as she sailed down the market street. A book here, a loaf of bread there, a letter for a carrier to deliver, a packet of spice, a handful of dried meat, and suddenly everyone was eager to talk. Not that they had anything more to say.

Apparently, none of the villagers had lied to them, which he supposed was good, though it didn’t much diminish his irritation. The only gossip they actually managed to acquire was from a lone crab-monger, who mentioned that he’d found a few discarded knives in his nets. Apparently, they’d been of good make, but he’d tossed them all back into the sea as offerings to the gods, so Rowan couldn’t examine them. Probably just lost off a merchant ship traveling to or from the western continent.

Sunset soon threatened, and Rowan found himself silently cursing at the approaching darkness. The day had mostly been a waste – even if he had managed to get the princess to shift. Who was to say if that would last.

They were no closer to slaying the dark creature than he had been yesterday. His only hope was that the healers at the compound would be able to divine something useful from the body – but it could be weeks before he heard from them. Weeks more of struggling in the dark, and watching the bodies pile up.

They set up camp in the glade from earlier, laying out their bedrolls and eating cold food for dinner. At least the girl had finally learned her lesson about setting fires in the wilderness.

They didn’t speak, and she soon fell asleep, drifting off well before the moon rose. But Rowan lay awake, the stars twinkling just above him. His thoughts began to twist and coil, while the stars continued to shine tantalizingly, soft flickers of white light, scarcely out of reach. Tiny drops in the pool of black emptiness. They were only a few hands-breadths away – perhaps if he raised his arms high enough, if he could reach far enough, maybe he could just touch them –

···

Rowan awoke abruptly, dawn’s light barely a flicker on the distant horizon.

His dreams had been dark, and full of whispers. The quiet had been so different, so utterly wrong, that it dragged him from sleep, until he was nearly retching in the grass next to his bedroll.

He sat up groggily, and turned to look at the princess, lying on the other side of the small glade. She was tossing and turning in her sleep, murmuring softly. He managed to make out the words, “Aedion,” and “sorry,” and “wish – ” before her words descended into the incomprehensible.

Rowan just sighed and turned to the slowly rising sun. It had not been Lyria in his dreams last night, that much he knew, and the absence of her usual screams had been a terror he was unfamiliar with. He shook his head and stood, forcibly rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Mala stretched her warm fingers over his face, but the gesture did not comfort him. The warmth was far too similar to the feel of the girl’s power, the soft to her harsh, the pale flicker to her writhing inferno.

An inferno that he would now have to direct, to teach how to use and control. Rowan sighed. Well, there was no point in putting it off. The girl would have to begin someday – it might as well be now.

He spent the next few minutes assembling a small fire in the center of the glade, then waiting for the girl to awaken. She didn’t do so gently – gasping and jolting upright, pulled violently from whatever hell her dreams had foisted on her.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked. She turned to him slowly, frowning slightly through the sleep that still coated her features, then nodded.

“Then start the fire.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He didn’t bother responding. She groaned and sat up straighter, blinking and crossing her legs. She held out her hand to the logs, beginning to reach in to her well of power.

“Pointing is a crutch. Your mind can direct the flames just fine.”

“Perhaps I like the dramatics.”

He just looked at her, sharply. Light the fire. Now.

She rubbed her eyes, but then seemed to rally herself, a small snake of power extending from her and towards the unlit logs.

“Easy,” he said slowly, just as the wood began to smoke, “A knife, remember. You are in control.”

She breathed heavily, and then something began to twist and crackle – a snap, and the magic ruptured almost without warning. It flew out of her in a great cloud, nearly incinerating the entire glade before Rowan could douse it with his own power.

Soon, the clearing was empty of smoke and embers, and they could see each other clearly again. Rowan only sighed, saying, “At least you didn’t panic and shift back into your human form.”

The girl just nodded mutely.

And then they collected their things and made the journey back to the fortress, hurtling dispassionately through the undergrowth, Rowan unable to entirely curb his unruly thoughts.

To others, they were perhaps a prince and a princess, embers and ice. But Rowan knew better – and he thought the girl did too. They were an assassin and an executioner, neither of them royal, neither of them worthy, but both of them the only chance of stopping the creature, and protecting the demi-Fae.

Fate was quite the sly bastard that way.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Rose Pink- Giorno Giovanna

Snow White x Vento Aureo 

Cast:

Rose Gold - Reader Prince Charming - Giorno Giovanna Evil Queen - Diavolo Magic Mirror - Doppio Huntsman - Tiziano & Squalo  7 Dwarves - La Squadra Esecuzioni

Once upon a time...

There lived a lovely little Princess named Y/N, although, everyone called her Rose Pink.  Her vain and wicked Father, the King Crimson, Passione’s Mafia Boss, feared that some day, Y/N’s existence will help unveil his own identity to the enemy, and thus, dethrone him from the Don position, which would be less than optimal. So, he dressed his little Princess in rags and forced her to wear a Venetian mask at all times, despite not being allowed to leave the Mansion.

Each day, the delirious Godfather consulted the only person he trusted in this life, his other personality, Doppio, while looking in the Mirror and seeing the face of an innocent boy that resembled his own self.

“Doppio, my dear, sweet Doppio, Who is the most powerful and fit ruler for Passione?”

...and as long as Doppio answered “You are the most powerful one of all”, Rose Pink was safe from the Don’s cruel ruthlessness.

---

And thus, begins our story, once again, on a beautiful day of Spring in the city of Napoli, when Diavolo made his way to the Mirror in his room, scrunching the photograph of himself and his wife, when Rose Pink was still a mere babe, and they were all happy...Yet those times were long gone, for his wife had been murdered just a week after that picture was taken, by none others than the notorious La Squadra Esecuzioni...His very own Hitman Gang that betrayed him and Passione.

Only because that greedy Risotto Nero thought himself fit to be the Godfather! But oh, how ridiculous, for the Mirror NEVER saw him as a great competitor for the role.

“Slave in the Magic Mirror, come from the farthest space. Through wind and darkness, I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face!” Diavolo glared at the mirror in front of him with absolute hatred. “What wouldst thou know, my Boss?” the face of the innocent, pink haired boy appeared, his golden eyes wide, like a baby fawn that lost his mother. “Doppio, my dear, sweet Doppio...Who is the most powerful and fit ruler for Passione?” the Don asked in a condescending voice. “Famed is thy power, my Boss, but hold, there is a lovely young lad, I see. The new recruit of another gang, who will discover thy identity, through a little maiden. Rags nor masks can hide her gentle grace, and alas, she will fall in love with him.” Doppio spoke in a worried, almost afraid, voice. “Alas for her and him! Reveal her name, and I shall get rid of her before this stupid little lad will be able to lay his eyes upon her.” he sneered in disgust. “Lips red as rubies, hair as pink as the roses, skin white as snow.” was the only thing Doppio said, but the description was enough for Diavolo to realise who was his demise. “Rose Pink!” he gasped in rage.

That is when he knew he had to act as fast as possible...But what could he do? He couldn’t possibly kill his own daughter with his bare hands...What would his late wife think of that? He would curse him from the grave, and he couldn’t have that.

Oh, but he knew just what to do...Just the right people for the task...

---

Meanwhile, in the Mansion’s garden, there was a little young maiden, whose hair was put up in a messy wet pretty updo, so the cascade of roses wouldn’t get in the way of her cleaning.

She sat on the stairs of the well, scrubbing them with a brush, carefully, so she wouldn’t miss any spot of dirt, while a dozen of doves as white as snowdrops chirped around her graciously.

Y/N was humming beautifully, before getting up, sighing, and moving to the well to clean it up, and tend to the flowers that kept growing on it.

She missed having someone to chat with, since the only people she sometimes had around were Tiziano and Squalo, but even they couldn’t stand around too long for a proper conversation, so she had only animals to turn to for any pleasant company.

The girl took the rope in her hands and pulled on it, raising the bucket of water, putting it on the edge, before sitting on it as well, looking at the doves around her with a sneaky look.

“Want to know a secret?” she asked the doves, in a sweet, bright voice. “Promise not to tell?” she asked again, making the birds nod, as if they could understand what she was saying.

“We are standing by a wishing well Make a wish into the well That's all you have to do And if you hear it echoing Your wish will soon come true“

Her thrills were heard throughout the garden, in a voice as beautiful as the perfume of the Spring flowers, that would get you drunk from their sweetness.

“I’m wishing-” she began, putting her hand to her ear, approaching the well’s hole. “I’m wishing-” the echo came back to her, in a vibrato tune. “For the one I love...To find me-” the girl went on, smiling as soon as she heard her counterpart. “Today.” her voice went lower, almost as if swooning at the thought. “I’m hoping-” she went on, her eyes closing, as if she was making a wish on a shooting star.  “And I’m dreaming of...The nice things...He’ll say.” Y/N sang, resting her back on one of the well’s stone pillars. “I’m wishing...For the one I love...To find me...Today...!” she gazed at the fluffy clouds above, floating up on the azure sky as she was fantasising about flying up there, of being free, just like the beautiful birds that kept her company, and did some thrills, dueting the little doves.

As she was so deeply absorbed in her fantasies, she didn’t realise that someone climbed the fence of her garden, before his velvety voice, like that of an Opera’s Baritone, echoed through the place.

“Today!” this voice made the girl gasp and jump in her own skin, making her snap her gaze and seeing a young man with long blond hair, emerald green eyes and a pink suit, smiling down at her with a gentle smile, right next to her. “Oh, dear...! You shouldn’t be here! I-I’m not wearing my mask today!” Y/N gasped, hiding her face and running up in her room, before tying up her mask and letting her hair down, she shyly went in the balcony, leaning on it to look down at the beautiful boy. ”Oh, I’m sorry, did I frighten you? No, please, don’t run away!” he reached out his hand towards the pink haired girl, before smiling at her timidness. “Now that I’ve found you, hear what I have to say!”  the blond boy did a little bow, looking up at the beautiful maiden that shined like Spring’s Sun.“One song, I have but one song. One song, only for you!”  he sang, walking towards the balcony, as the same white doves surrounded him. One heart Tenderly beating Ever entreating Constant and true One love That has possessed me One love Thrilling me through

The boy continued his song, making the girl blush furiously at the bold and suave declaration of love from the serenading boy who grinned charmingly at the girl, who extended her hand towards one of the little doves and gave it a small kiss, before letting it fly on the boy’s hand, as it gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

“One song...My heart keeps singing...Of one love...Only for you!” he confessed in his singing, as the girl sighed, obviously head over heels for the young boy. “Oh, but you sing so beautifully, my dear prince! I wish only to be able to spend time with you, but my father forbids me from leaving this place. May I know the name of my dear Prince Charming?” Y/N asked, batting her eyes at the boy. “Giorno Giovanna is my name. May I have the honour of knowing your name as well, my sweet Princess?” he asked, before taking his Stand out and took off one of his Ladybug brooches, making a E/C butterfly, to match Rose Pink’s eyes, sending it flapping towards her, standing in her hair. “My name is Y/N, but people nicknamed me Rose Pink, because of my hair.” she smiled shyly, speaking in the same sweet voice as ever. “I’m so glad to find out the name of such an amazing maiden. Fate must have been kind to me, to be allowed to meet you.” Giorno declared, only to have the girl smile sadly at him. “Is it kindness, or is it cruelty, dear Giorno? If I’m not allowed to even touch your face or hold your hand while strolling through the park?” she asked, before snapping her gaze back to her room, from where she heard a knocking on the door, and her name called out. “Oh, I must leave now, I’m so sorry. I wish to see you again, my Sweet Prince.” she blew him a kiss, before rushing inside, letting the boy sigh, completely in love.

---

Little did the 2 lovers that, at that exact moment, the King Crimson was glaring at the little encounter going on in the court and planning his own daughter’s demise.

No little pest, no matter how dear to his heart, would ever be allowed to lead him to his loss of power and of Passione.

Passione was his, and he was the Godfather.

He will ALWAYS be the Godfather.

“Take her far into the forest, I’m sure you’ll find some secluded glade, where she can pick wildflowers. You both know how stupidly captured in her own mind she gets when she sees them.” Diavolo called Tiziano on the phone, trying his best not to destroy the device in his hands. “Yes, Boss.” Tiziano’s voice called emotionlessly from the other room, while Squalo held the phone to his ear. “And there, my faithful Passione members, you will kill her!” the magenta haired man growled darkly. “But, Boss, the little Princess!” Tiziano gasped in shock, completely surprised at his orders. “SILENCE!” Diavolo screamed into the phone, that the duo he hired could hear, even from their room. “You know the penalty if you fail.” he regained his almost composed voice. “Yes...Boss.” Tiziano bit his lip in fright, looking at his partner, whose expression matched his. “But to make doubly sure you do not fail...Bring back her heart in the chest I provided you on the table in the room you’re at right now.” were the last words the Boss spoke ominously, before hanging up.

---

The next day, hearing that Tiziano and Squalo were allowed to take her on a walk through the forest, she dressed in her prettiest dress, fixed her hair in a beautiful hairstyle and at the end, attached the ladybug brooch from her paramour to her outfit, and at the end, tied her mask to her face, admiring herself in the mirror, doing a little twirl, before skipping happily towards the 2 men.

On the way to the forest, she kept giggling and telling them that she met her Prince, how he gave her the brooch as a gift of love, and how he serenaded to her, like Romeo did for Juliet. The poor men looked at each other nervously, clearly not used to being around such a pure and naive little being, their heart hurting at the thought of having to kill her...And more, carve out her heart in such a brutal way.

Her father was a monster, that’s what the 2 would tell each other, through their eyes.

Seeing the girl happily twirling around in the glade, picking up flowers to make a bouquet, singing and humming around the same song that her prince sang to her... The beauty of being in love, manifested in such an innocent way...

And if her love for the boy wasn’t enough to make their hearts swell in agony, seeing her pick up a baby bird so tenderly, doting on it and helping it fly back to its family...

They had to do it fast, before they would get second thoughts.

Honestly, why were THEY sent to do this, and not some heartless fuckers like Cioccolata and Secco who could do this job without blinking or having any regrets?

When the girl turned her back at them, they started approaching her silently, taking out their weapons, obviously not having the heart to kill her with their Stands, but just as they were about to strike, the girl innocently turned around.

Those innocent and naive E/C orbs that shone in happiness like gems, now swam with tears of panic and sorrow, staring at the 2 men, feeling betrayed and confused.

“Tiziano...Squalo...Why...? Did my father tell you to do this...?” she sobbed, as she backed down slowly, before she found herself glued to a rock about her height. “No...Squalo, I can’t do it...I can’t. I’m so sorry, little Princess, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Tiziano shed a tear, clenching his heart, before falling to her knees and gripping the hem of the girl’s dress. “I...I don’t understand. What is going on?” she put her hand on his hair, stroking it soothingly. “Your father is mad, he’s paranoid! He’ll stop at nothing to be Passione’s Boss!” Tiziano cried out, leaning so that her delicate hand would rest on his face. “Tiziano...Are you sure this is okay?” Squalo started scanning the surroundings, so nobody could rat on them. “Yes. It’s for the best that we were hired for it, otherwise those 2 fuckers would have really killed her. Rose Pink, you must run! In the woods, in another city, anywhere, it doesn’t matter, just never come back! You’re not safe here!” Tiziano warned, pushing her towards the forest. “Go now, stop looking back at us! Our skins are at stake too! Run and hide, missy! Make sure King Crimson will never find you!” Squalo yelled after her, making sure she was frightened enough to get the hell out of there. “Squalo...Did we make the right decision?” Tiziano bit his lip, looking at his partner. “The right one in our hearts, yes...Let’s just hope we won’t be the ones with our hearts in a chest next.” Squalo nodded, hugging his beloved. “Then, I have no regrets. Let’s go find some whore and get this mission over with.” Tiziano kissed the orange haired man with much passion, as if he was going to disappear the moment he’d open his eyes.

---

Poor, Poor Rose Pink, she was afraid of the darkness and her mind would play tricks of her at every nook and every crack, at every turn and every sound the forest made, everything around her seemed to be against her, like all the spooky ghosts that she saw in Scooby Doo or other Horror movies.

The forest was cruel to her, she thought, and as soon as all feeling left her body, her body collapsed on the hard ground, and she could only cry and cry, for there was nobody going to save her anymore, and she would see her Prince Charming no more.

Her desperation was short lived, thankfully, for all the critters of the forest were brave enough to approach her, but only one little chipmunk had the spunk to nudge her hand with its little wet nose, which made her gasp in fright, bolting up in a sitting position, only to see tens and tens of little glowy eyes hiding away from her, which is when she realised she was in no immediate danger, for animals were her friends.

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! But you don’t know what I’ve been through! And all because I was afraid! I’m so ashamed of the fuss I’ve made, and I apologise if I startled or frightened you. What do you do when things go wrong?” the girl managed to put a smile on her face, her heart no longer shrunk with fear.

To drive away all the fear, she started singing a wholesome song, making all the baby animals run around her, wanting to be pet by her, or merely stay in her presence. When she told them she needed a place to sleep, the little critters told her to sleep in the ground with the bunnies, or in the trees, with the birdies, but of course, she couldn’t do that, so they guided her to a big house in the forest that looked rather nice from outside, but pretty neglected.

As soon as she knocked and received no answer, she stepped inside, turning on the light, realising how much of a dirty mess the whole place is, so she took it upon herself to clean up the whole place, so that if the owner of the house ever came back, they’d find it pristine and would let her stay, at least for a little while.

“Oh, look at this! There’s make up on the fireplace! And a shoe in the bowl! Dear, how could they let cobwebs stay everywhere? And such a huge mountain of dirty dishes in the sink! Awww, I have an idea! Let’s surprise them by cleaning the place! Will you help me out, please?” she clapped her hands, before taking the broom. “You do the dishes, you clean the cobwebs, and I will sweep around!” she told the critters what to do, as she started singing for them.

Next thing they did was wash all the clothes in the washing machine, then hanging them out to dry in the warm Sun.

Rose Pink was so exhausted after all the cleaning up, that she went upstairs, tucked all animals in, kissing them on the forehead, before allowing herself to fall asleep on the biggest bed there.

She had no idea how long she was asleep for, but when she woke up, she saw 7 very tall men towering around her bed, looking down at her with confusion.

“Hello! You must be the owners of the house!” Y/N smiled shyly, doing a little courtesy from the bed. “Who are you and how did you get here?” a curly, blue haired man asked in am aggressive voice. “Don’t be so hostile with a woman, it’s not nice!” the one with purple hair scolded him. “I deeply apologise for inconveniencing you! My name is Y/N, but everyone calls me Rose Pink. I found your house when I was running away and I thought I would ask for shelter...But you weren’t there, but the door was unlocked.” she explained, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “You did clean up the house, so I don’t think we can complain. Pesci, did you forget to lock the door again?” the blond man facepalmed, looking at the one who was about to cry. “I’m sorry, Prosciutto! I was hurrying to the mission and I forgot!” he teared up, hanging his head. “Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Besides, we were lucky that it was this innocent young woman, and not the Boss who found us.” the brown haired man shrugged, looking at the tallest man. “But how do we know she’s really all that innocent and not some spy in disguise?” the shaved man asked. “Let’s ask her and we’ll find out easily if she’s a liar or not. Missy, do you know the identity of the Passione’s Godfather?” the tall, silver haired man looked down at her with an intimidating look in his red eyes. “Passione’s Godfather...? Now that you mention it, Tiziano said about the same thing.” she mumbled, blinking at the man with no fear. “Tiziano...? Isn’t that from The Boss’ Unita Speciale?” the purple haired man gasped in realisation. “Yeah, along with Squalo, Carne, Cioccolata and Secco.” approved the silver haired man. “What do you know about them?” “Uhm...Tiziano and Squalo were the only people I got along with, that went through my house. Cioccolata and Secco were always very creepy and I would lock myself in my room and hide in the wardrobe whenever they’d come over.” she looked down, hugging herself. “But...Tiziano said that Passione’s Boss wants to kill me...He called him King Crimson...But I don’t really know anything...My father never let me leave the house, and I’d always have to wear this mask...Ah! Now that I mention it, I suppose you’re the first people to see my face, apart from my Prince!” she grinned in realisation, as she held her mask in her hands. “Capo, this is bad. She is the Boss’ daughter. If he finds out she’s alive and she’s here...Especially with the situation we’re in...” the man with his hair tied put his hand to his chin, pondering the situation. “If he finds her here, he would kill all of us. He will find out that Tiziano and Squalo failed to kill her, and will do anything in his power to track her down himself. He’s feared by everyone, and y’all saw what he did to Gelato and Sorbet! Who knows what would happen to us?” the shaved man grumbled, looking worried. “No, this is exactly what we need. We can take down the Boss.” the Capo smirked softly. “Very well, you may stay here with us. You can be useful, in a way or another This house has been a mess from beginning to the end, and you got it to look acceptable. Everyone, introduce yourselves.” he ordered, waving his hand at them. “I’m Melone! You can room in with me, if you want! I can do your hair and make up.” the man flipped his hair with a confident smirk. “My name is Prosciutto and this one here is Pesci. Don’t worry, we won’t give you any trouble.” the blond man spoke in a simple, yet soothing voice. “I’m Illusio, and this is Ghiaccio. Don’t stay around him much, he’ll just yell and be annoying.” the man with brown haired explained, which made his friend explode with rage. “Let’s keep this short, it’s already late. That’s Formaggio, and I’m Risotto Nero. Now that introductions are over, do whatever you want.” the man explained, making the girl smile. “Oh, I made some food! It’s on the table in the kitchen, so if you’re hungry, dig in!” she exclaimed, a wide grin on her rosy face. “What an angel! Come on, little Princess, let’s go eat, and then you can make yourself right at home! Tomorrow we can go shopping so you won’t have to stay in the same dress all the time! Tonight you can wear whatever sleepingwear we have around.” Melone dragged the girl to the kitchen, talking and talking about whatever he felt like, as the girl was actually paying attention to him. “The girl stays in my room. If King Crimson finds his way here, she’ll be safest there.” Risotto ordered, and nobody could say another word, despite the poor purple haired man pouting in disappointment.

That same night, as soon as Diavolo was alone in his room, stroking the beautifully embellished chest that held his daughter’s heart inside, he went in front of the Mirror, to ask once again for the fated question.

“Doppio, my dear, sweet Doppio...Who NOW is the most powerful and fit ruler for Passione?” the pink haired man asked his much younger reflection. “Over the 7 jeweled hills, beyond the Mediterranean sea, in the mansion where La Squadra Esecuzioni hides, dwells Rose Pink, the one key to achieve the title of Godfather of Passione.” Doppio’s shy voice spoke out, as if afraid of the outcome of speaking the truth. “Rose Pink lies dead in some ditch in a forest. Tiziano and Squalo brought me proof! Behold her wretched little heart!” Diavolo glared at the mirror, opening the chest, grasping the heart in his hand, before throwing away the container. “Rose Pink still lives, the key for success. ‘Tis the heart of a whore you hold in your hand.” his reflection spoke the truth, biting his lip. “The heart of a whore?! Then I’ve been tricked!” he roared in rage, realising he was betrayed by his own trusted men. “Of course I have to do everything myself! Incompetent fools!” he scrunched up the heart with so much power, that it exploded, splurting blood everywhere on the mirror, on himself and around him.

Filled with so much rage, we went down to his lab, calling Cioccolata to alter his appearance so much that he would resemble a scrawny old man, with crooked teeth, white hair, and a hunchback.

He got a vial of a deathly poison that once breathed in, would make you paralysed, which was the perfect way to kill her, after everything she put him through.

There was a huge problem with this plan, and that was the antidote... The victim of the Sleeping Death can be revived only by Love’s First Kiss... But who the hell would kill a corpse, anyway? Or fall in love with one? For sure, there was no way this plan would fail!

SHE WOULD BE BURIED ALIVE FOR SURE!

---

“Hey, Y/N, you mentioned a prince before, but I’m pretty sure there aren’t any actual princes around. What was that about?” Illusio asked, looking at the girl. “Oh, about that...Well, he was brave enough to jump over the gates of my Mansion’s garden, and sing for me. He didn’t run away when I hid in my room either.” the girl graced a beautiful pink blush, looking down bashfully. “So it‘s a love story! How romantic! Was he the Prince Charming from those kid fairy tales? Was he strong and handsome? Was he super tall?” Melone grinned, holding the girl’s hands in excitement. “There’s nobody like him anywhere at all.” the girl swooned, before getting up and walking next to the said man. “Don’t tell me she’s gonna start singing like in those kid movies!” Ghiacchio dragged his fingers down his face aggressively in aggravation and exasperation. “Shut up, Ghiaccio, nobody likes you!” Formaggio smirked, seeing the man’s anger. “He was sooooo romantic! I could not resist!” she let Melone twirl her around slowly. “Come on, tell us about this mysterious man who stole your heart!” he urged the girl to go on with her story.

Someday my prince will come Someday we'll meet again And away to his castle we'll go To be happy forever I know Someday when spring is here We'll find our love anew And the birds will sing And wedding bells will ring Someday when my dream come true

Y/N sang with all the warm and beautiful emotions she harboured in her heart, so much that the men, looking at her, could see a pair of wings coming from her back, as if she were an angel.

Wait, actually, no! She actually WAS an angel!

“You didn’t tell us you have a Stand, missy.” Risotto raised his eyebrow at her, yet he felt no threat or ill will. “Stand? What’s that?” she looked at the man with a confused puppy expression. “You don’t know what a Stand is? Could it be that you just awakened it?” he pondered thoughtfully. “It could have awakened when Tiziano and Squalo made her run for her life through the forest. Something like that would make sense, especially her heritage.” Prosciutto pointed out, looking at her as if he saw Virgin Mary. “I’m...Not sure I follow.” she frowned in confusion. “See these? These are part of your Stand, which is a power manifested from your power. Of course, I don’t mean a physical one necessarily, since you’re frail as a snowdrop...But I suppose your caring nature would reflect its strength in a rather unique way.” Melone put his hands on her wings, pulling them forward so the girl could see them better. “Oh my! Are they real? How can I touch them? I’m definitely no angel, I’m just a human!” she gasped, looking in awe at her slightly translucent wings that shined a beautiful and divine light. “That’s not really important, I believe. Go rest, we should find out your powers soon enough. It’s late, everyone should go sleep.” Risotto ordered, gesturing for everyone to scatter off. “B-But wait! I still haven’t found out the Prince’s name!” Pesci pouted in disdain. “His name...Such a beautiful and unique way! Giorno Giovanna is the name of my Prince Charming, who shined like the Sun right in front of me! You see this brooch? It was his! He transformed it into a pink butterfly, before he sent it flying to me, which is when it transformed back! Isn’t that soooo beautiful?” she swooned once again, holding the brooch in her hands, looking at it tenderly. “Isn’t that Buccellati’s new recruit?” Formaggio raised his eyebrow, but everyone sent him a look to shut up. “Doesn’t matter for now. Go sleep, all of you.” Risotto got up, guiding the girl back to his room. “Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room. I have some stuff to research, but it won’t bother you.” he said, as he threw the girl some large clothes to dress in, pointing out where the bathroom was so she could change.

Thanking him with a wide grin on her face, she quickly went to change, and when she came back, she saw the silver haired man on the chair, in front of his study desk, researching, while topless.

The harsh scars and wounds on his torso made her gasp, rushing to his side and touching them gingerly, frowning in sympathy.

“Will you be alright?!” she bit her lip nervously. “They’re old scars, don’t worry. It comes with the job.” he mumbled absent-minded, before he felt a sting, followed by a tickle on his skin, which made him abruptly turn his head to look at the arm on which the girl was touching his skin. “I-I’m sorry, did I hurt you?!” she quickly retracted her hand, only to see the man in front of her wide-eyed. “Did you just heal my wound?” he frowned, examining his arm carefully. “I don’t think I could do that without proper medical supplies.” she replied, not sure of what to say. “Touch this wound right here.” he ordered, but he couldn’t wait for her to be hesitant, so he grasped her hand and put it over the long, deep gash on his chest, staring in awe at it was healing rapidly. “Did...Did I really do that...?” she gasped, taking her hand away gingerly, staring at it in complete shock. “It’s your Stand’s power. No wonder your Stand’s took an angel’s appearance. You quite literally ARE an angel.” was the only thing Risotto could mutter, before he sent the girl to sleep, as he kept making plans all night long.

The following day, Risotto informed the girl that all the Squadra had to leave on their own missions, and they will return by dinner. All of them made sure to warn her to be careful and cautious, since nobody knows what could happen.

The girl was pretty happy to clean the house along with her lovely animal friends, singing and dancing at her heart’s content, dreaming of her Prince. This time, she was in the kitchen, preparing a nice cherry pie, singing about meeting the love of her life once again, before putting it in the oven, when just then, she heard a pretty loud knocking from the door.

She looked at the animals around her in confusion, since she wasn’t expecting anyone, but she looked through the visor of the door and saw a frail, old man, trembling, but with a serene expression on his face.

“Hello, how may I help you, sir?” the girl asked as soon as she opened the door. “I don’t mean to bother you, miss, but, you see...I was passing by and I noticed this beautiful bouquet of flowers at your doorstep...It would be quite a pity if they were to wilt before being admired, don’t you think?” he smiled with a kind, grandpa-like vibe. “Oh, goodness me, you are right! I wonder if they are from the man of my dreams! They are gorgeous!” she took the bouquet from the man’s hands. “Do they smell just as well as they look? I would like to smell them, but...My old age made my smell go away.” he laughed weakly, his smile never faltering. “That’s such a pity! Not being able to smell the beautiful smells of Spring! Well, let’s see for myself then...Ah! I’ve never smelt flowers like these ones before! Oh, how unique!” she gasped, holding the bouquet close to her heart, grinning in happiness. “Yes...How unique indeed...My darling daughter...” the old man’s grin twisted in a frightening, sadistic smirk, which was the last thing the girl saw as she fell to the ground, lifeless. “I DID IT! FINALLY, SHE IS DEAD! This little twerp can’t be used against me anymore!” he laughed like a maniac, the sound echoing throughout the whole mansion as thunders started to be heard from outside.

Unbeknownst to him, the animals that were Rose Pink’s friends somehow managed to  find the whole Squadra AND the Prince and alerted them about the King Crimson.

“Giorno? Why are these animals all trying to get you away from us?” Bruno asked, looking at his friend in confusion and amusement. “...Buccellati...A few days ago, I believe I met the Boss’ daughter, and back then, animals seemed to surround her every second. If my intuition is correct...She may be in danger. I’m sorry, Buccellati, but I have to go save her!” Giorno frowned, feeling restless. “If you’re going, I’m going as well. It will be a great opportunity in more ways than one. Let’s go!” the two ran along with the animals, and as soon as they got in front of an old mansion in the woods, they met La Squadra. “So you’re Giorno Giovanna, aren’t you? You looked just as Rose Pink described you.” Melone glared at him softly. “If you touch even a single strand of her hair...” Giorno glared at them, but Melone shook his head. “We were protecting her from King Crimson...But if we’re correct, that one over there is him. He came from out house. Let’s go kill him.” Risotto explained, and nodding at each other, a temporary truce was formed, for the sake of the girl’s well-being. “You are dead, King Crimson!” Giorno shouted in anger. “Oh, so you are the stupid kid who thought could dethrone me! That useless Mirror kept saying how you will find out my identity through that stupid daughter of mine...But now you can’t! Because she’s dead! I just killed her!” he laughed maniacly, just as before. “Giorno, don’t act rash, he could be lying.” Bruno put his hand on Giorno’s shoulder, and the boy could only nod, despite the burning anger flaring through his veins. “YOU FUCKING COCKROACH! HOW DARE YOU KILL OUR ANGEL?!” Melone shouted in rage, before charging at him blindly, only to get swapped away like a dead fly. “Melone, you idiot, don’t act irrationally!” Ghiaccio yelled at him, helping him get up. “Your stupid Stands, even together, are NOTHING against my King Crimson and Epitaph! YOU CANNOT KILL ME! BOW DOWN BEFORE DON DIAVOLO, THE ONLY GODFATHER PASSIONE WILL EVER HAVE!” his voice rang all throughout the forest. “You wish.” Giorno spoke confidently, ready to strike.

The fight was long and dragged for a long time, making everyone be injured, gravely or not, but in the end, they were victorious, thanks to Giorno’s Requiem Stand, that managed to get Diavolo stuck in a never-ending loop of death.

However, their fears were true, and Diavolo didn’t actually lie when he said he killed the girl. They figured quite easily that the girl’s death was produced by the flowers in her grasp...And yet, as soon as he touched vein, he could feel a pulse, which made him gasp in shock.

“She’s alive? Then, we could still save her somehow?” Pesci gasped in glee. “She’s in a coma, I think, I’m not sure what we could do about it.” Prosciutto frowned, not sure how to solve this mystery. “If we get her to the hospital...?” Illusio’s eyes shifted between everyone. “That could work...But we still can’t be sure it will wake her up in a long time.” Bruno thought deeply. “What luck I have...I fall in love, and this is what happens. I should have known better than to endanger someone, for my own selfish desires...Emotions will only get my dear ones in danger.” Giorno gritted his teeth, before caressing his beloved’s pale face, looking at her with a tender, yet sorrowful expression. “I’m so sorry this had to happen to you...You deserve the world. I love you, Y/N.” he confessed, before leaning down, planting a gentle kiss on her ruby red lips. “That’s enough, let’s rush her to the hospital. The faster we are, the faster they can find a cure to this.” Ghiaccio snapped his fingers, slamming the door open...

However, what nobody was expecting, was to see the girl start stretching her arms, as if she was waking up from a nap, and soon enough, her beautiful E/C eyes fluttered open, and a dazzling smile graced her features.

“My Prince, you’ve come to me once again!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Giorno’s neck, who looked just as shocked as everyone, especially as her Stand’s wings came out, just as radiant and heavenly as before. “I would fly to the space, just to get the stars and put them in your hair, to see you smile. I would get the Sun right here, but you shine even brighter than it. I would go to the end of the World for you.” Giorno smiled softly at her, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m gonna cry! This is so beautiful!” Melone tried to stop himself from tearing up, but he was beaten up by Pesci who was sobbing rivers. “Calm down, Pesci, it’s okay.” Prosciutto sighed, patting the man on the back to calm him down, but even so, he was smiling at the pair in front of him. “Do you know if Tiziano and Squalo are still alive...?” the girl asked in a soft voice. “I think so. We killed Carne, and by the time we arrived at your home, Cioccolata and Secco were dead already, but we never found anything about them.” Bruno explained, which made the girl smile. “I’m so glad to hear that! They were the reason why I managed to escape from my father’s grasp.” she explained, as Giorno picked her up bridal style. “I promise we will look for them as soon as we settle down and make everything be peaceful.” he promised, kissing her forehead. “Wait, so now that Y/N is with Giorno...Will they be the new Godfather of Passione?” Formaggio gasped in realisation, which made everyone freeze in shock. “It should be Y/N, but since she didn’t have a clue she was the Mafia Don’s daughter until recently, and would have no idea what to do...But if she marries Giorno Giovanna, who’s the one who defeated Diavolo, I think Passione would flourish like never before.” Melone pointed out with a wide grin. “But what about Capo...? The whole Squadra was exiled and Capo wanted to be the next Don.” Prosciutto asked, unsure of the situation. “Risotto was very kind to allow me to stay in their house, and even told me about my Stand and power! I think that, if it’s okay with all of you, he could be our 2nd in command, and La Squadra can be back in Passione!” the girl clapped her hands together, wishing to find the right decision. “Fine by me.” Risotto nodded, which made the whole Squadra sigh in relief. “La Squadra Esecuzioni will be welcomed back to Passione, Buccellati’s team can become the new Unita Speciale, and we can add Tiziano and Squalo to it, if they’re still alive. Risotto will be Capo Bastone, and I’d like it if Buccellati would be my Consigliere.” Giorno spoke in a firm voice that inspired leadership. “Oh, can Melone be my Consigliere? I would need someone to go shopping with me and help me out with outfits everyday!” her giggle warmed up everyone’s hearts. “Anything for my, my darling.” Giorno nodded, a soft smile gracing his features.

After that, peace was restored in the hearts of all the fellow mafia men, Buccellati’s team became La Unita Speciale; La Squadra Esecuzioni was brought back into Passione, Risotto was no longer bitter with anger over the Boss’ lack of trust in them, and was not Capo Bastone, while Bruno was Consigliere for Giorno and Melone for Rose Pink.

It didn’t take long for the 2 lovers to marry and have a beautiful wedding, where they confessed their undying love for each other.

Everything was well again for everyone in Passione, they were all happy in their own way and no longer had such a terribly dark dread, since their little Angel was watching over them at all times.

As for Giorno and Y/N...

They Lived Happily Ever After.

The End.

[rerice]

The secret magic hides

Okay, i’m trying to start writing a sanders sides fanfiction set in a fantasy au! This is the first chapter and i hope someone will enjoy ittt

Chapter 1

Logan breathed in and out a few times. The air around him felt clean and pure, so different from the heavy, smell-filled air he was used to breathing in the city that surrounded the castle where he lived. The wind sang in the trees, bothering some tiny pixies and some squirrels who scattered in different directions, running away from their hideouts in favor of new ones, less exposed to the cold winter breeze that accompanied the first lights of the day. Unlike those creatures, Logan enjoyed the pungent sensation the cold left on his naked arms: it made him more aware of himself and his surroundings, ready to answer every external stimulus.

"Would you hurry up, Logan?" Janus' voice arrived sharp and imperative. Logan smiled softly without showing his teeth: his brother was covered head to toes in a heavy coat that made him look even smaller than what he actually was, the light cotton gloves he usually wore had been replaced by warm wool gloves that wrapped his hands tightly and a big scarf was covering half of his face. "I'm literally freezing here" he continued with an accusatory tone in his voice.

"That's an improper use of the term literally …"

"Yeah well, I'm about to if you keep taking this fucking long between spells"

Logan made a face at Janus, about to lecture him for his language, but the flick of impatience in Janus' left snake-like eye made him change his mind. Instead, Logan concentrated on the other side of the glade and finally let the magic flow out allowing it to take him there. Everything became a blur for a couple of seconds and then he found himself where he was looking at just seconds sooner while a bluish fog slowly disappeared around him.

"Finally!" Janus exclaimed ironically while materializing next to him. Logan shook his head, still smiling "You know I need time with these kinds of spells" "You need too much time for me to wait for you in the cold cold winter" he shivered as a new and stronger gust of cold wind passed through them. "Why didn't we stay at the castle anyways?" he then asked while rubbing his hands one against the other. Logan stayed silent for some time, contemplating whether telling Janus his reasoning was a good idea or not. Cons: they would have started an articulated fight on their father's way to rule the kingdom and their lives (especially Janus') and no pros in the near future.

"All that loud pondering in your brain only helps me being more suspicious" Janus interrupted his train of thoughts. Logan instinctively shook his head, like he was trying to get his brother outside of his brain, knowing full well that that's not how it worked. After all, that power, that magic was the only reason Janus was alive: when Logan's father, king of Mageia, brought him home, back when they were four or five, he immediately made it clear that a half-blooded child like him, son of a warlock and a fairy, could only find a reason to be alive in the power that his parents' union granted him: the ability to control and reading minds, a kind of magic that was thought to be extinct in centuries. Janus understood that lesson very easily and as soon as his powers showed up he polished and perfected his magic, soon reaching the same level other great warlocks and witches had before him.

All that training obviously made trying to escape his grasp impossible and he never held back on using it on his brother too.

"Are you still disconcerted by our upcoming mission in the Other Land?" Janus insisted, trying to get an answer out of Logan.

Other Land was the common name used by the people in Mageia to refer to Dasos: a land where most of the fairies went living after the great war for power that ran for eons between the two kingdoms. The war was long and consuming: many races of magical animals and plants had been extinct, populations had been eradicated (including mind-manipulators warlocks and witches), so many people remained without a house, a family and the ones that left had so much fear in them that that feeling still resonated in the new generation. The peace between the Kingdoms was rather new: it ascended to a couple of years before Logan's birth and it resulted in nothing tangible. The two lands still lived separated one from the other, both politically and ideologically: it was rather hard to see someone coming from the border searching for a new life or fortune that they would have never found due to the heavy discrimination and hatred that filled the majority of the land. Contacts between the two land's rulers had been interrupted since the peace treaty but that solution made the economy stagnate and the people's morale worsened and worsened… so the two kingdoms finally decided to reconnect using the new generation: Logan and Janus, and the princes of Dasos. They were supposed to mitigate a conflict that had caused centuries of pain in weeks, months if they were lucky, and Logan found that reasoning absolutely illogical. No one knew what exactly was expected of them, not even the kings and the queen that orchestrated the meeting nor a plan was being formed and every attempt Logan made to try and push the matter to his father's attention was simply shut down or redirected.

"Logan?" Janus' sharp tone brought him back to reality "Are you okay? You're very pale"

Logan slowly nodded, starting to feel dizzy "It's probably just the materialization spell." he said mid-voice trying to recover his balance.

"We should go back to the castle then" Janus stated "They are probably almost done anyways and you need time to recover from this dizziness before doing a much larger jump" he offered his arm to Logan, who gladly accepted it with a thankful smile. They started walking at a rather sustained paste but not too fast. Logan mentally calculated the length of their short travel: the town was half an hour away from the glade they trained in and their horses were waiting at the doors of the city so they would have been home in an hour maximum… that left Janus a lot of time to dig his brain out or to interrogate him about the travel they were about to make.

"You are absolutely right," Janus said to Logan, answering his thoughts "And if you don't want to talk I'll make you anyways so start singing"

"I wouldn't talk about such important topic singing: it's inappropriate and useless" Logan answered promptly "And besides that, you already know what I think of our father's idea: it's dangerous and the lack of preparation that has been done on our side will surely be seen as a lack of respect in the regards of Dasos and his rulers." Logan made a short pause to let Janus take the floor if he wanted to but he nodded in his direction, silently asking him to continue his speech. "Also, even if we have some information –even if all war-related- to the king and queen, we still don't know anything about their sons except that they are twins. How are we supposed to gain their trust if we don't know a thing about them?" he concluded, waiting for an answer from his brother.

Janus looked at him while still walking "I don't think we should worry about that", he said after a while.

Logan frowned surprised "And why is that exactly?" "We are not the only ones that have to gain the trust of the other reign. Father doesn't think we should do the work because they asked first and I agree with him: I don't think it was our job to come prepared to their land" Janus explained deadpanned.

Logan shook his head. They had that conversation at least ten times since their father told them about their staying in Dasos and he never managed to change Janus' mind. "We said yes to their request, Janus: that implies a common effort of both parts in trying to restore peace between the kingdoms. Our lack of effort will be interpreted as a claim to power and the very foundation of this meeting would result useless." Janus let a cold chuckle out of his mouth when Logan finished talking "Trust me brother, you truly are overthinking this". Logan decided it was best not to retaliate: it would have only caused more stress and led to a useless conversation that wouldn't have changed anything. But he did pace up, using his renewed strength, leaving his brother a couple of steps behind him which caused him to laugh wholeheartedly.

-

After some time they finally arrived at the doors of the cities where their horses were waiting for them, calmly ruminating on the green grass around them. Janus and Logan approached the two stallions with familiarity and affection that was immediately reciprocated.

"Good boy Aletheia," Janus said softly petting the brown coat of his horse "You waited so long, didn't you? But I couldn't bring you into the forest with me, you understand that right?" The horse nodded elegantly perfectly understanding what Janus was telling him. That race of magical horses was pretty much extinct and the majority lived in Dasos anyways: they didn't have powers or wings but, if they grew up with their owners, they only understood them and the ones that they trusted alone which made them perfect in war and they overall were good company. Of course, the wild ones acted like normal horses and it was very difficult to form a connection with them once they grew up. Logan and Janus had been lucky enough that the royal family used to breed them since before the war even if there were still very little left due to how many were used during battles. The muzzle of Logan's horse on his hand brought him back to the present, distracting his brain from all those thoughts of death and destruction.

"I missed you too Fos" he murmured to the stallion while he petted his white muzzle.

A couple of moments went by as the two prepared the horses for the ride back to the castle. Logan still didn't want to talk to Janus and he didn't mind the silence anyways… but when they were on their horses, ready to ride home, everything felt more real to him, the burden of their mission started feeling more like a threat. A threat to him, his brother, the honor of his family, his people. A heavy weight settled on top of his chest, making it harder to breathe, his vision started to get blurry and a few tears fell down his eyes on to his glasses. He felt a hand resting on his head, messing with his hair and from only that touch Janus felt safer.

"Stop using your powers on me" Logan scolded his brother mid-voice.

"Either this or you have a panic attack" Janus answered while continuing his spell "Also I'm just clearing your mind so that I'm sure you can hear me" he paused, waiting for Logan to take a few deep breaths, then he continued talking with a tone that almost sounded like a lullaby "We are going to do this together brother: we are safe. Keep breathing, there you go. You are safe. You are safe and we are going to fucking kill this, okay?"

Logan rolled his eyes, but he nodded vigorously, feeling a bit better. They got down from the horses and took some more time to let him fully recover, time spent picking up a few berries to reward the patience of the two stallions. After a bit, Logan felt much better, he had time to rationalize his fear and came to the conclusion that Janus was right: even if the first few days might have been bad, they would find a way to connect with the other two princes, or at the very least to not be hated by them. They got on their horses and finally rode towards the castle.

-

They ended up by arriving just in time: they separated in the hall where both of their rooms were to take the few luggage they already prepared and sprinted down to the stables to take back Aletheia and Fos and go to the front of the castle where the king was already waiting for them, a disappointed look on his face.

"You arrived just in time," he said deadpanned "I expected you at least half an hour earlier"

"We are sorry father," Logan said, with the same tone the king used "We got held back in the forest"

The king pondered for a few seconds if a scold was needed and then decided to not waste any more time "Get to the portal, they're about to open it" Janus and Logan were about to leave with a small bow when the king spoke again "And boys" he said looking them dead in the eyes "Do not disappoint me" he stated to then leave them to their duty.

Logan looked at Janus. The human side of his face was paler than usual, his eyes were wide open and his hands were fidgeting with his long coat. Logan put his hands on his brother's shoulder "We are safe" he mocked him. Janus scoffed nervously but looked back at him with a tiny smile on his face.

They nodded to one another and started walking to the portal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229255/chapters/66515539

leave a kudos if you like <3

[afy2018]

You’re a Queen (Revision) Chapter 1

Waverly awoke in her cold narrow chambers- only the bare minimum for Purgatory- to the sound of Stephani Jones, her Lady’s Maid, gently calling to her from the fireplace as she sparked it to life. Her mistress dismissed her to the doorway as she began her day. Waverly wished she could just dismiss her completely as the days preceding the anniversary of her father’s passing were always difficult no matter how many years had gone by, and only exacerbated by her sister’s desertion of her rightful place in their fief.

Once she tore off her nightgown, Waverly pulled out her black and silver dress she had imported from Holland with the box of British brass brooches and faux pearl jewels that were to adorn her clothes. The routine of her base skirt and gown proved to take less time than normal as Waverly summoned Stephani to help her with the rest of her dress and hair before the clock struck eight.

She went through her usual regimen which ended with her going down to dine with her Aunt but was quickly intervened by their butler, Percival Crofte, with a salt-crusted letter. Waverly plucked it from his hands and ripped it open, quickly skimming the words before handing it back to him as she changed course to the main chambers to meet her impending guest.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she began to break out in a light sweat from her layers and nerves. Her finely dressed doormen opened the grand room as she approached them. She entered the hollow chambers, her clicking shoes echoing through the entire room as the servants and noblemen silently watched her. Once she situated herself in her simple throne, Waverly nodded to Nedley, a greying man who was as loyal as a dog but just as opinionated as her aunt, to let in her old friend.

The doors across from her opened to a lone figure standing in the archway where her servants once stood. The young ruler sat back in her chair and watched as the visitor tentatively approached her. Once she was only a few feet away, Waverly took in the view of her guest that she no longer recognized. She looked over the features she once cherished so many years ago that disappeared in the now shockingly masculine attire she wore.

Waverly stood on the platform that raised her chair above the stone floor and began her descent towards her. After a few moments of staring at her, she dismissed her guards and noblemen alike to talk with her long lost friend. As the hallway’s doors closed, Waverly walked straight up to her guest, watching as she flinched at her speed, and punched her shoulder.

“WHERE have you been?” she hissed at her. Before she could answer, Waverly quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, “Welcome home, Wynonna.”

She felt tentative arms wrap around her as her sister loosely hugged her back and tucked her bare lips against her beaded shoulder. Waverly let her go and gazed upon her rugged appearance. From what she could see, her sister had dawned gentlemen’s attire with road worn boots wrapped in a fine cloth to cover their grime. Although her vest was plain in color and pattern, the cloak she had draped around her shoulders was deep emerald with a border of gold stitching that made her seem nobler than her rank allowed. She had a sword sheathed to her hip and dark leather gloves that were untouched by the weather.

“You are alive,” Waverly gasped. “You never wrote… well?”

Wynonna only nodded in response before finding her voice for the first time in the archaic castle, “Do you remember the stories Father used to tell us about the homestead? He talked about how this place wasn’t meant to house the noble or royal. It was originally a place for people to pass through when they were heading to and from the Phantom River Palace. It had not been until the fifteenth century that the Good Lord Earp established Purgatory as a fief,” she rested on her heels and continued, “I am only doing what Father always told us and explored the world. I have seen things and people I would have never thought existed had I not just gone out into the world. My dear sister, I have lived and-”

“And I have been here,” her sister interrupted.

“Yes, you have. I do not plan on staying any longer. I was just passing. I’m glad you got my note, I’d hate to catch you by surprise.”

“Yes, this morning, actually.”

“Mm, I sent it three weeks ago, shame it took that long,” Wynonna turned on her heels and began out of the main hallway and to her next journey.

Waverly chased after her older sister through the old hallways of their once-prosperous fief. The banners and coat of arms that were once lit by the chandeliers and candelabras for evening parties now hung against the decrepit walls of their home. They continued further down the palace hallways as the younger woman tried to get her sister’s attention. She jogged a bit before tugging on her thick cloak.

“Please, you need to stay here. Your absence has left our home in complete disarray!” Waverly berated her, her tone biting into her sister’s conscious. “Take responsibility for one thing at least once in your life!”

Wynonna stopped in her tracks and turned around to face her, only cocking her head to the side as she tried to hold back her rage. Carefully, she spat, “God, do you know what I had to go through after… after everything? You think your life was hard running this place with everyone caring for you, preparing you and holding your hand along the way? I was shunned, no one wanted me after Father croaked, not even you. You all thought I was a demon, a witch, some sort of… I don’t know, so come back when everyone hates you, then you can act like your life’s been hard.” She stood back from her sister, waiting for any response she knew would have to be coaxed out of her.

Waverly couldn’t look up at her, knowing that any mention of her memories would trigger something not only in her sister but within herself to flee. She also knew that torn look Wynonna got in her eyes of betrayal, and it killed her to remind her about their trauma-even though it was her fault. The older woman only watched her sister, huffing the air from her lungs in annoyance. She tore off her gloves, collecting them in her left hand as she placed the other one on her sister’s shoulder. Looking into her large eyes, Wynonna quickly pulled her in for a quick embrace, getting stuck as Waverly clung onto her. She sighed out a shuddering breath and kissed her forehead before her sister finally let go.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly apologized.

“No, you’re ri[ght]-” she almost comforted.

“Excuse me, Madam,” their advisor Nedley interrupted. “Sir Dolls is here to see you.”

Wynonna pulled her gloves on again and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, nodding to the greying man, “Bring him to the main chambers, I’ll address him soon,” she commanded.

The voice she took on surprised her, after all of her travelings and escaping, she had thought that the tone would be lost to the nomadic gangs and foreign oceans, but it seemed to just be waiting at the edge of the Purgatory woods. She only cleared her throat as he went to their guest and turned to face her sister again.

“When did you stop wearing dresses?” Waverly asked as she looked upon her sister’s masculine fashion.

“When I set fire to them and bought a more efficient wardrobe. What have you been doing while I was gone?”

“I have been running our fief ever since Aunt Augustine approved it for me.”

Wynonna only shook her head, turning to watch as their advisor finally disappeared behind the door. “Do you know who Sir Dolls is.”

“A knight from our Duke’s Army. He was sent three fortnights ago.”

She shrugged and placed both hands on the hilt of her sword. “Is he attractive?”

“Seriously?”

“What, might I not dream of my knight in shining armor?”

“Ugh, I will leave you to your meeting with him,” Waverly said dismissing her sister’s comment.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m off, Purgatory is your responsibility now, go visit Aunt Augustine in the dining room,” she nodded as she backed away from her.

“Yay, so much fun,” Wynonna sarcastically remarked. “I just hope I get unlimited access to the armory.”

She smiled at her and left her sister to her own affairs as she walked to shock yet another family member. After Waverly changed into her riding kit, she went to the stables, looking for her blood bay mare. Her horse was a young and spry beast that could have kept up with Wynonna’s wild spirit had she been paired with the older sister rather than her. She quickly had her saddled up and set off for her own time alone in the forest.

Waverly sped through the stables and out of the castle gates. Her destination was whatever she could find and as she followed the path from her home and through the glades, Waverly broke off to the barely beaten path that led to a stream. She felt the change of air as the trees burned their scent in her nose and throat. The only sound she heard was the huffing breaths her mare let out before she began to settle and slow down through the trees to avoid the low branches and roots. Waverly heard the sound of scampering critters and fearful does sprint to safety. She began to notice the distinct sound of water running through the pebbles, splashing and spilling onto the large rocks.

She dismounted at the water’s edge and went to a petrified oak that had fallen three years earlier. Waverly sat on it and listened as the low stream of crystal clear water rushed below her. It was a peaceful sound that numbed her ears and thoughts from everything else in the world. She felt a calming air rush over her body and begin to relax her muscles. The silence echoed in her head and vibrated through her soul as she lost herself in the pattern the water made on its surface as the stream rushed and trickled over the beautiful river worn rocks.

The only thing that broke her trance was a soft rustling as a horse came galloping through the trail somewhere nearby. She heard the horse’s hooves rapidly near her until they finally stumbled to a stop. Waverly slipped back into the low stream and glared up at the young rider. She gritted her teeth as the owner of the blue dun quickly dismounted. They were clad in silver armor that clanked and flexed with ease as they went to help the royal back up.

“You have some nerve scaring me,” Waverly muttered as she was helped up.

The knight took off their helmet, revealing a kind face of the young soldier in her padded cream colored coif. “I apologize, ma’am, but have you seen a man in red running around here recently?”

“No,” Waverly assured her, surprised at how gently the knight spoke to her.

“Hm, I’m almost sure I saw him running through here not too long ago.” Seemingly giving up and pulling her attention to the woman before her, she untied her coif and tucked it inside of her helmet. The young knight revealed her bright red hair that was tied back in a loose bun. With the loud clanking of her armor, she placed her hand over her heart and introduced, “I am Dame Nicole Haught of the Duke’s Royal Army. Again, I dearly apologize for frightening you.”

Waverly waved away her apology and went to her mare, “It’s fine. I am Lady Waverly Earp of Purgatory.”

The young knight sank to her knees, her hand still over her heart, “Lady Earp, I’m so sorry, a thousand apologies, M’Lady. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh my,” she chuckled, “Please stand, I’m not that important I only rule over a fief, or I once did.”

Nicole pushed on her knee to stand up and brushed off her armor. “Well, seeing that I’ve lost the thief I-”

“What is a Duke’s knight doing here chasing a lowly thief?” the lady interrupted as she walked back to her.

“Hm, yes that is a fair question,” Haught laughed to herself. “Serving his people as always. Say, is there a tavern nearby? I seem to have been turned around a bit and feel the need to relax before I get back to my duties.”

“Oh, well, there is a pub near the Purgatory castle actually, it is on the outskirts but… I’m babbling aren’t I, yes I am,” she chuckled as Haught pulled on the coif again, hiding her fiery red hair.

“No, no, babble on,” she joyfully responded.

Waverly blushed a little at her endearing words and looked down at the stream again. “I was planning on going back to the castle. You can follow me if you would like.”

“That would be wonderful, your highness,” she sincerely nodded before pulling her helmet on again.

“Perfect, then we should be off.”

They smiled at each other and mounted their beasts. Haught flicked the face of her helmet down and slid onto her horse. As she waited for the lady to mount her mare, she asked, “You said that you used to rule over the fief, who is it now?”

“My sister, back from her journeys.”

“So, what does that mean for you, Madam?” Nicole inquired.

“Ah, well, that means that I can explore my home and the beautiful terrain it has been blessed with,” she smiled as she gestured to the forest. “Well, when I’m not being interrupted by knights.” Noticing the way she tensed up, Waverly quickly added, “All meant in jest.”

They raced back to the castle through the dense trees and shrubberies before breaking through the glades to the dirt road to Purgatory. Nicole caught up to the speedy royal, smiling at her behind the metal helmet. As she studied her through the narrow slots of her mask, the young knight soon found her eyes more than curiously wandering Waverly’s figure as she expertly rode her mare. They slowed down once they cleared the glade, seeing the fortress and castle in the distance with the shops and houses that smattered the exterior of Purgatory. Waverly slowed her horse to a trot, wanting to talk to the knight as they neared her home.

“So where do you hail from?” she asked.

“I’m from Phantom River. I was sent here to aid the fiefs around this territory with any ruffians.”

“Really? We actually have another knight from the Lionheart King Carlo, Sir Dolls.”

“I have never met him, but there are many soldiers in the Duke and King’s armies. He might be apart of his royal highness’ personal armies. I’m just a guard.”

“Duke Carlo has more than one army?”

“No, but his brother has special forces who watch over him and are by his side every day, there is a section whose duty is to watch the people he deems important and then he and the Duke have my people who help keep order amongst the fiefs and towns.”

“How interesting. So you were sent here, why?” she tried again, trying to squeeze out as much information from her as possible.

“Well the fiefs of Purgatory, Derelict, and Haven are to be mine and another knight’s territory but to be completely honest, I was glad when I was assigned to this territory because I have always wanted to meet you.”

“Me?” Waverly laughed in disbelief.

“Yes, I have heard of your bravery in fighting off our Neighbors to the North. You saved the Duke’s most important road and his soldiers. You are seen as a legend… M’Lady,” she formally added.

“Oh, um, thank you. How long will you be staying?”

“I have been here for almost a month but I only have a week left on my contract.”

“Only that long? I insist that you stay longer, seeing that you are a part of the Duke’s Army, you are a special guest to us.”

“Oh, thank you, M’Lady,” Nicole responded, dipping her head.

“Please, this is the least I can do for a knight, truly,” she assured her. “Do you have anything else before we move you here?”

“Nothing that isn’t strapped to my steed,” Haught noted as she patted the back of her horse.

Little conversation transpired between them as they finished their journey to the local tavern. It was a centuries-old beaten shack that had been passed down between generations of local Purgatory citizens. The current owner, “Shorty” Seanan, was a trustworthy old man with the heart of an explorer but the knowledge of any other citizen there. He had always been able to learn from those who passed through the bar about the outside world that he dreamed of seeing. In turn, he would inform Waverly of the people he met and the stories they shared with him. It always made her pine for the adventures she dreamed her sister had. They were only dreams though as to the entire town of Purgatory, Waverly was the stable child, the one who survived her sister’s insanity.

The two women hitched their horses and walked into the busy bar. At the moment, there seemed to only be locals in their usual spots with Seanan watching his latest patrons walk into his business. He beckoned the Lady over and handed her a cup of ale.

“Good morning, Waverly,” he politely greeted. Haught noted his grand smile that broke through the thick grey and white beard. “How goes it?”

“Mm, I was feeling low until I met this lost puppy in the woods,” she joked gesturing to Haught. “Perchance, have you seen a man in red tear through town?”

“No one that seemed suspicious,” he shrugged. “Would you like anything to drink, lass?”

“Would you happen to have any lägers?”

“I do,” he proudly nodded, pouring her a stein full. He shooed away her money, “No need to pay madam, you are a friend of Waverly.”

“Thank you, I never caught your name.”

“Seanan, but friends just call me Shorty.”

“Shorty Seanan, I am Dame Nicole Haught of the Duke’s Royal Army.”

“A Royal Knight in this area. Well well well, welcome to Purgatory,” he nodded.

Waverly found a spot by the window where they could talk and drink. She found Nicole curiously regarding her and the patrons of the tavern.

“Do you have a question for me?” she asked her.

“I just have never heard anyone address a noble so casually. People never addressed a noble like that back home.”

“Well, that is not how we do it here. You will find that we are much more independent than where you are from,” Waverly explained. “I just wanted to let you know before we got to the castle.”

“How did your family gain power? You’re not related to royal blood, are you?”

“At first no, but my mother was a Gibson of the Lavelle-Obere family.”

“Really, so do you ever visit them in Lyon?”

“I have never met any of them. I barely remember my mother.”

“Did she pass away when you were young?” Nicole asked, catching Shorty’s protective eye. “I should not pry, nevermind.”

“The Earps have really been the only ruling family here with a few suitors from other wealthy families here and there. We Earps stick together despite the distance.”

“Is that your motto?”

“No, but it should be,” she smirked with a quick swig from her cup. “But enough about me. How did you become a knight, what’s your backstory?”

Nicole chuckled and shrugged, “I hail from the Kingdom of Ireland, the O’Haught family, specifically, from the Shannon Basin. But, uh, Shannon could never hold me still so I was sent to the academy out here to hopefully put some sense into me.”

“Did it work?” Waverly asked.

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” she flirted in her Irish accent, “did it?”

“Cheeky, I think Purgatory already has you under her spell.”

“Mm,” she chuckled, “I think the citizens have helped a great deal.”

Waverly cleared her throat as she stared at the empty cup in front of her. “I should introduce you in Court if you are going to be a guest here, that is.”

“I do not want to be a bother, really.”

“No, I insist. We will be glad to have a guest. It has been a long while since the castle had visitors.”

“If you insist-“

“I do. Now, it is,” Waverly paused as she looked up at a clock, “only a quarter past four so I would assume everyone is still in the castle…Well, I would assume so. We might want to go soon, I’m not too sure what my tribe’s up to as of recent events.”

“You mean your sister’s return?”

“Yes, exactly,” she confirmed as she stood up, pulling on her black pelisse and leaving money on the table for her old friend.

Nicole followed her to their horses, watching as her hostess effortlessly pulled herself onto her mare and waited for her to join her. She followed suit and then went down the street a few strides behind as she was trained until Waverly slowed down to match her pace. Nicole continued to watch her, silently regarding the farms and shops that they passed.

“For a noble, you wear a fair amount of black, seeing that these aren’t your colors.”

“Only today,” she cryptically informed her. “I’m surprised the Duke allows his knights to wear their family’s cloaks,” she asked back.

Nicole nodded, “My own personal touch.” She took a moment to fix the silver fox shaped hooks to her black green and purple plaid garment. “It is not a cloak, by the way. This is a traditional piece called a brat. Being the Child Ruler Lady Earp, have you ever traveled outside of Purgatory?”

Waverly sighed, trying to hide her eyes as they neared the stables, “No, I haven’t. Between lessons and watching my Uncle rule over my future affairs, I did not have time to explore. What about you? How long have you been a bonafide knight?”

“Seven years,” she proudly stated. “Seven years and I still forgot to give you this.” Nicole reached back into her saddlebag to produce a letter with a gold wax seal imprinted with the Carlo family emblem. “My contract with the Duke's official signature.”

“Keep it for now. So, a month and I have never even heard of you.”

“I should have been more vigilant but Derelict was more of a handful than I thought.”

“Ah, yes. They must either think you are an angel or hate you to send you to Derelict.”

“I like to think I’m an angel.”

“Your hubris would say otherwise.”

“Only when I’m beguiled by a pretty lady,” she tested.

“Try not to forget yourself, Haught.”

“I apologize, M’Lady,” she quickly corrected.

“But I’m glad I have that power over you,” Waverly teased.

From behind her helmet, Nicole gawked at her audacious flirting, only recomposing herself when they arrived at the stables, dismounting and unsaddling their horses. Waverly brushed out her mare’s mane with care while Nicole watched and smiled at the royal woman’s tenderness. Waverly then switched out the mane brush and began brushing out her mare’s coat. Nicole gave her blue dun stallion a sugar cube while she waited on the side. Waverly smiled as she peeked over her horse at the knight before she put away the brushes.

“I have never seen noble care for her own horse,” Nicole noted as she walked towards Waverly.

“I pride myself in caring for those I depend on,” she replied starting towards the castle.

“And what is your trusted steed’s name?”

“Ignis. What about your stallion?”

“Lex.”

“Law in Latin?”

Nicole shrugged and smiled, “He was given to me when I was far enough along in my training.” She took a moment and smiled, “You know Latin?”

“Yes. If I cannot travel, then I should at least keep myself educated.”

“Intriguing, a very learned noble. Most of the others I have met are pompous people who know no more than those they preside over.”

“Glad I’ve made a lasting impression on you,” Waverly flirted, her back to the knight once more as she took a few short cuts out of the stables. They walked into the castle through a side door for the servants where they found a maid making her way to Waverly. “Please prepare Dame Haught’s room. Preferably a guest room in the west wing. Her belongings are on her horse in the stables.”

The maid nodded and went to prepare the guest room as Waverly left to make a meeting for Nicole, letting her follow her in silence through the open corridors until they came upon the grand doors to the main chambers. She walked in, seeing her sister sitting on the throne with their Aunt behind her as Sir Dolls knelt down in the center of the room. He had been explaining his reason for his assignment in their fief and his confusion of not being informed of Wynonna’s return. Waverly stood in the back, watching her sister ogle the knight as he mindlessly recited his speech to her. She curtsied to him as he walked up to stand next to the older Earp sister.

“Wynonna, Dame Nicole Haught of the Duke’s Public Army has arrived to watch over our fief.”

Waverly sat in the chair next to her sister, Sir Dolls dipping his head to the younger woman. Nicole walked to the center of the room and produced the letter she had tried handing to Waverly earlier, holding it out for Dolls to retrieve. He tore it open and read it aloud:

“‘For Lady Earp of Purgatory. I have been informed that you are lacking the proper number of law enforcement in your area. I have sent over one of my finest Dames to aide in replenishing your forces. I hope she is of use to you. ~Duke J.C.’” Dolls regarded the letter for a moment, his eyes darting to Nicole for a moment before turning to his mistress. “It is official, the Duke’s stamp is on this.” Dolls confirmed handing the paper to Wynonna. “What is your decision?”

“Well, keep her. I would not want to anger Carlo so early. Go get clean and you can discuss your placement with Nedley.”

“Thank you, your highnesses,” Nicole bowed, standing up as she was whisked away to her chambers.

In a brief moment, she caught Waverly’s eyes, winking at her, while the blonde maid led her out of the room. She followed her to the small room that would become her personal chambers for the duration of her stay in Purgatory. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was better than the farmhouse she was staying in Derelict. As she pondered on her new home, Nicole wrote a letter to be sent to the old mayor of her change in lodging and mission- something she was more than glad to do. In her brief time in Derelict, she had already chased around over twenty thieves, helped behead five murderers and hang nineteen other criminals. In the Shannon Basin- and even in Phantom River- there wasn’t as much crime to worry about. On more than one occasion, Nicole had to lock up her horse and belongings in order to protect them from any thieves. Crime seemed to come in waves with a few days being quiet with the usual bickering amongst the locals to major crimes and brawls which ended in major injury or death.

Nicole sat back in a cheap chair in the corner. Hearing it creak loudly under her weight, she instantly sat back up, looking down at the old wooden seat with the worn and dusty velvet cushion which now had an impression of her rear. She closed her eyes and moved the chair to the open window, feeling it loosely shake in her hands. Nicole restlessly huffed as she sat back in the chair, now feeling it shake under her. It really wasn’t the worst situation she was in, but she expected Purgatory to be at least a bit nicer. She couldn’t completely remember how it looked when she was last here, but when she was eleven she had followed her parents to this casual town with its charismatic rulers. In her time alone, the young knight reflected back on her old memories as she regarded the beautiful mountain range that guarded the small town within the valley below.

Waverly escaped the main hall after their guest’s departure but was swiftly as she left the room, her sister joined her in the hallway with her old mischievous smile. She stood in her tracks even as her sister tugged her towards the stables.

“Whatever you have in mind is going to have to wait until tomorrow,” she evenly told her.

“Not even an adventure?” Wynonna playfully whined.

“Not tonight, it is too early for you to get into trouble and skimp out on your duties.”

“You mean like you did this afternoon?”

“Yes,” she proudly admitted, “But I was not getting into trouble. How are you acclimating to power?”

“It is pretty nice, but I’m surprised I have not been confronted by any old flames from town.”

“I think once all of them know that you are here, every one of your past mistakes will come creeping out of the woodwork, I can assure you of that.”

Wynonna comically threw up her hands and asked, “Well what do you do for fun around here?”

“I’m almost sure that what I find fun, you will think is boring as can be,” Waverly submissively stated. “I do know that there is a plentiful stash of booze in the basement from our old parties.”

“Mm, and you would not happen to have to key?”

“Our key master has them all, but I know that Uncle Curtis had one in his office, you remember where that is, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded heading down the hallway. “Aren’t you gonna join me?”

“No, I’m going to check on our guests.”

“Hm, okay. Want me to bring anything from my plunders?”

“Mm… no, thank you.”

Waverly left her sister to her own devices as she meandered through the open corridors of her home. It wasn’t anything grand but it was the only place Waverly really knew. Kept behind closed doors and inside the basin that entrapped Purgatory, she rarely ever made it past the forest and mountain passages to explore before being called back home. The only place she had visited outside of the fief was the grand palace in Phantom River which housed the Duke of their fiefdom. It was a grand manor with Gothic architecture that was popular at the time it had been constructed with grand windows that flooded the large rooms with light for any occasion that was hosted there including one for herself. The party held thereafter she aided the King’s Army through Purgatory while fighting off their Nordic foes was a grand affair with the Duke’s extended family, even his own brother attended to celebrate her achievement.

Once she entered the North Wing, Waverly quietly rapped on the wooden door to Dolls’ room. He answered instantly, still clad in his tabard and trousers, but his belt sitting on the bedside table. Standing closer to him, Waverly noted his gentle features. She had never seen someone that looked like him in person. His skin was so perfectly dark with little to no imperfections. He was a very kind spirit with a polite demeanor and proper grammar Waverly thought not quite possible for knights. Dolls bowed and kept his distance as he was taught, the untouchable guardian for Purgatory he had been assigned to be.

Waverly returned to the West Wing, attending to Nicole before retiring to her own quarters until supper. In the long corridor of rooms, the young Lady went to her guest’s chamber, rapping on her door and patiently waiting for her to open it. Nicole stood before her in a very different outfit. She had ditched her heavy armor and chainmail for a long green and white jerkin that buckled in the middle and up fairly high on her neck. She stood before her with her hands behind her back in attention while she waited to be addressed.

“How are your lodgings?”

“Not too bad especially with the view of the mountains,” she gestured to the window. “Thank you for being so kind as to let me stay here.”

“I’m glad you are enjoying your room,” Waverly smiled.

“How are you, M’Lady?”

“I’m quite well, actually. I’m, uh, glad our paths crossed,” she confided in her. “There has been a lot happening, but I know that you will do great things to help us and Nedley. I do hope you do not feel too cramped here.”

Nicole waved her hand, “I think I’ll fare perfectly well while I’m here and at this point, I’m glad I’m somewhere else. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

Nicole took the other chair from the desk and placed it by the old velvet one by the window. “I’m actually quite glad you came by. I wanted to apologize again for overstepping my boundaries. I hope I did not offend you, M’Lady.” Waverly sat in the chair, lounging in the creaking chair as she listened to her. “I hope my mistake has not set us back.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t,” she assured her. “Tell me a bit more about yourself. If you are going to stay here, I would like to know at least a bit about my guest.” Waverly relaxed into the chair as she regarded the graceful mountain range. “For instance, why do you cover up your accent?”

“I try to sound less conspicuous when I’m not home. You Brits haven’t always been the kindest to my people, so I just try to blend in.”

“So why do you not fake it around me?”

“I guess I just trusted that you would not judge me based on where I grew up.”

“Mm, you are right, I try not to judge based solely on appearances,” Waverly shyly agreed. “Now, tell me, you do a fair amount of traveling, where have you been?”

“Ah, many places,” she began, placing her hands on her knees and standing before her hostess. “I have been all over the Fief and England.”

“Have you been to London?”

“Only for a short while when I was young. Duke Carlo sent me and a few others out there to shadow Royal Guards and Constables before we were sent back to implement their policies.”

“Sounds amazing,” Waverly smiled, “How was the city?”

“Cramped, in all honesty, and we were stationed in the Royal Barracks alongside the other Guards. The city was dark and there were people everywhere, shoulder to shoulder, no matter the time of day,” she chuckled. “It was a fun way to explore the city.”

“So did you drink your way through London?”

“No, not entirely, but I did gamble my way through Wembley.”

“Oh my.”

“Well, I learned that I don’t have great luck, but I at least got the chance to immerse myself in the city while I was there.”

“How much money did you lose?”

“More than I’m willing to admit,” she laughed. “With your sister in power, you might actually have time to explore outside of Purgatory.”

“Maybe, but I would not mind a guide to take me on my adventure. Where else have you been?”

“One of the first places I was stationed was Leeds back in 1619. It was a fairly quiet town when I was last there. Not much to do but the people were kind, so I was able to make some connections while I was there.”

“With whom?”

“Some of the cloth traders, but I ended up spending the most time with the Pressman family and their tribe in Harewood.” Nicole took a moment to watch her hostess’ reaction, smiling as she elicited a longing gaze from her. “I’m sure they would love the company of such an intriguing person like yourself.”

“Oh, I think you might have mistaken me with someone else, I am not that interesting,” she dismissed. “But I would love to travel to Leeds someday. Anywhere else you have been?”

“Only random deployments around England and Scotland. I never got the chance to ask you, but what have you always dreamed of doing?”

“I… nothing interesting, I just want to explore the world.”

“You must have read something in your books. Something that sparked your desires more than anything else?” Nicole meandered around the room as she waited for her to respond. She spent the silence gazing at the old novels on the shelf, dust resting upon them undisturbed for years. She plucked out a fictional book from the highest shelf. “Have you read the books in here?”

“No, especially not those ones,” she joked.

“Ah, yes. I can see why not,” she noted as she looked at the surprisingly clean book in her hands. “Hm, but not this one. It’s not in English, do you know what this says?” she asked handing Waverly the dark maroon book.

She brushed her thumb over the silver lettering pressed into the cover as she read it out loud, “Phaedrus, it’s a dialogue piece from ancient Greece.”

“A dialogue, of what?”

“Of persuasion, death, and… humanity,” she explained.

“Interesting never heard of it.” Nicole flipped through the book, stopping fairly early on as a few words caught her eye. “Humanity, what do you consider a topic of humanity?” she asked, folding down the corner of the page.

“Well, um… I-” Waverly cut herself off as Nicole walked to the balcony, “I consider it… what are you doing?”

“I think I hear someone,” she whispered as she looked over the edge. “Dolls and your sister are talking down there.”

“Where?” she asked as she joined Nicole by the wall.

“I think they’re bickering.”

“Why?” she wondered as she peered over the edge.

Nicole pulled her from the edge as Wynonna looked up at them. “Hm… I’m not quite sure.” They silently tried to listen in to the conversation, failing as they only heard the inflections in their voices as the two argued below. Nicole clasped her hands nervously against her chest and turned to face her hostess. “I wonder if supper’s ready.”

Waverly escaped from the dining hall to her chambers where she began to undress. She slipped into her light nightgown and scanned her library for any books she wanted to read again, but knew that she would have to go back to Nicole’s chambers to find her favorites. Her head sank as she rolled out the small kinks in her neck, pressing her hand to her back to hopefully relieve some of the pain from her corset. After her usual routine, she watched the setting sun from her bed and shielded her eyes from the rays that reflected off of her vanity. She blew out the remaining candles by her bed and slid under the covers, feeling the warm pan of coals underneath her protect her from the cold nights.

A sudden knock broke her lucid mid-slumber. Using the remaining light from just between the Cloody Pass, Waverly walked to the door, opening it to spot Nicole in her brat and jerkin, her sword strapped to her hip.

“Dame Haught, what are you doing here?”

“Dolls sent me to watch over you.”

“Why?”

“Something he and Wynonna spoke about,” she explained, “What we thought was their disagreement.”

“Well, you can tell them both that I am perfectly capable of watching over myself, I have gotten by just as well without her for the past seven years, thank you, madam.”

“I understand, but I-”

Waverly waved her hand to silence her before placing it on Nicole’s shoulder, “Try not to worry yourself, I will talk with Wynonna about this.” Nicole quickly nodded and stepped out of her way as she awaited her next order. “Go back to your room, if I lose I will retrieve you.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Waverly began her trek through the ever dimming castle to the old Southern Wing where she and her sisters once played and created trouble. She silently passed by their old playroom and the chamber their Governess lived in. Beyond that were their rooms that had been refurbished by Aunt Augustine only a year after the disappearance of her elder nieces. Waverly couldn’t stand this wing, nor the Eastern side where her parents’ and Aunt’s rooms were, and spent her time avoiding the hallways as often as she could in the cramped fiefdom. She sighed as she locked eyes with Wynonna’s door before finally knocking on it, only a moment passing before her sister opened it.

“I have no need for your protection, I have gotten by just well without it. I know your gesture was out of love, but I find it rude to use a guard to protect me from night terrors.”

“Night terrors? I-”

“I sent her back to her room-” Wynonna only rolled her eyes and pulled her into her room. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to protect you and this town from… Them.”

“You will have to be more specific,” she huffed, regarding the room she was in.

“The Revenants, I saw them on my way, er, their banners. They were making their way back over Lover’s Pass like last time.”

“Last time? You mean the last time when…-”

“When everything went to hell, yes,” she confirmed, her eyes worriedly glancing at her sister then down at her own necklace. “Just like last time,”

“We are not prepared to fend them off again, there are far too many of them and I doubt the Guerilla tactics you learned from your hiatus will be of use.”

“We need to prepare then. You remember how to spar?”

“Of course I do. I had nothing better to do with my time.”

“I know you don’t want a guard, but will you humor me and keep each other safe? I have Dolls with Aunt Augustine, so you aren’t alone in being watched over.”

“What about you?”

“No one knows I’m here except for us and the servants.”

“What about when they do find out, because they will, Robert will.”

“Well, if I die then I die and I guess you’ll have another go as the ruler.”

“Don’t joke about that, Wynonna,” she huffed, “I’ll let her guard my room, just… if you go after them bring us along.”

Waverly stepped out of the unfamiliar room and started towards her own chambers before her sister could protest. She took the same route back to Nicole’s room this time and knocked on her door, not wanting to spend any more time awake as the night finally settled in the valley. Nicole stood before her with her hair down and only in her black trousers and white button-up, having removed her outer clothes for her own slumber. Waverly took a step so she stood under the doorway.

“Did you win?”

“I’m only humoring my sister. May I come in?”

“Wouldn’t you rather stay in your room, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m far too tired to care,” she huffed, finding her spot on the love seat by the fireplace.

“Please, take my bed, I’ll stay by the fire,” Nicole offered. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

“No, I’d rather stay by the warm fire tonight.”

“I insist, please, sleep in my bed, your maid placed a bed warmer underneath so I would not freeze,” Nicole almost commanded. She stood and neared her hostess, placing her hands in the same spot her belt would have been. “My duty is to protect those who inhabit Purgatory, and that includes you.”

“And they say yours is a dying breed,” she joked defeatedly as she went to Nicole’s bed. “At least find your spot in here once the fire dies.”

Nicole closed her eyes and shook her head, “I’ll have to decline your offer, M’Lady, thank you.”

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Green Wounds, Ch. 4

And we’re back with Green Wounds! Here’s hoping Tumblr makes it easier to post this one... because I swear to God it should not have been that hard to post the KISS Unsolved story. But we’re not here to gripe about Tumblr. We’re here to see what’s up with Starchild! 

Hoo boy, I am actually excited for y’all to read this chapter. Some heavy shit goes down in this chapter and it was insanely fun to write it! If you guys have seen Maleficent, then you already know what’s gonna happen... 

Read on and enjoy! 

Starchild stayed in the ruins for a month, sending Peter every day to spy on the ongoings of Jendell. King William died after a fortnight—at which Starchild felt a rush of satisfaction—and his successor was to be crowned in some weeks after his marriage to the king’s daughter, Jeanette. But Peter never saw anything of Ace.

Peter flew down behind Starchild, who was staring out in the direction of Jendell. He was often staring out at the kingdom whenever Peter saw him. He wasn’t sure what Starchild did while he was off spying for him, but he hoped it wasn’t just staring out obsessively at the kingdom.

Starchild waved a hand and turned Peter back into a man. Peter immediately crashed painfully to the ground, letting out a groan of pain. He really hated being a bird—it felt like a betrayal to his feline species to have the form of one of their favorite animals to hunt. “Why do I always have to be a bird?” he grunted to Starchild as he picked himself up. “Can’t I be a cat?”

“Flying is faster,” Starchild replied bluntly, not turning around to him. “Did you see anything?”

Peter shrugged. “I saw a bunch of servants carryin’… carryin’ multicolored skin? And some of it looked like animal fur. What was that?”

“Probably clothes. Did you see what they did with them?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t. Other than that, I didn’t see anythin’ else.”

“Did you… see Ace?”

“Uh… no. I didn’t see him.”

He couldn’t see Starchild’s face, but from the way he spoke he sounded like he was frowning. “Fine. Go get some rest, and go back in the morning.”

“What do you even want to know about this Ace guy, anyway?” Peter asked, by this time very curious. “I thought you didn’t like humans.” Why would he? Humans were dirty, inelegant creatures. Not at all like the sleek, civilized superiority of the cats. “Plus, he stole your wings. I would think you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.”

Starchild finally turned to look at him over his shoulder, and Peter was treated to an icy glare. “I don’t like humans. And I also don’t employ you to ask me ridiculous questions,” he said just as icily. “I have my reasons.” He turned back around. “Just… Just leave me alone. Go hunt or something.”

“… Could you turn me back to normal again?”

Without replying, Starchild waved his hand and Peter was (thankfully) turned back into a cat. Peter quickly slunk off to hunt, not wanting to be around the faerie longer than he had to be. 

-*-

What Peter was unaware of was that Starchild did not actually spend all day on a ledge in the ruins, staring out at Jendell. His days were usually spent going around the ruins, sometimes exploring and other times simply wandering. Occasionally he ventured out of the ruins into the fields.

On one such time, he was wandering along the edge of a field nearby a forest when suddenly rustling made him turn his head. There coming out of the forest was a red fox. When Starchild saw the tip of one of the fox’s ears burned off, he realized it was the fox he had encountered at the glade. Had it been following him?

Starchild frowned at the fox. “I thought I told you to go away,” he said to it, even though in the back of his mind he thought, You’re talking to a fox. A FOX.

The fox tilted its head and stared at him, with the same piercing, exposing stare. Starchild wanted to hit the fox with magic again, but this time stopped himself. Instead he tightened his grip on his walking stick and glared back at the fox. For a long, long moment, neither fox nor faerie moved. Then Starchild curled his free hand into a fist, his hand glowing dark purple, and ground out, “Go. Away.”

After a moment, the fox lowered its head, turned around, and disappeared back into the woods.

Starchild turned and walked back towards the ruins. He wasn’t sure why that fox had appeared to him again, but he didn’t like it at all.

As Starchild spent more time alone, away from the Moors, and as his mind descended further into obsession, he gradually began to lose more of the faerie he had been before Ace stole his wings. And as summer turned to autumn and the world turned steadily colder, so did what remained of his heart.

-*-

Finally, after a month of hearing nothing and seeing no sign of Ace, Peter saw something.

He was perched on a window that looked into a gigantic room with a platform on one end, the platform housing two regal-looking chairs. A huge crowd of elaborately-dressed people was gathered in the room, waiting for something.

After a while, the doors to the room opened, and the crowd parted, leaving a path through the middle of the room to the chairs. Men wearing armor marched into the room first, then stood in line on both sides of the path.

Then a beautiful dark-haired young woman entered the room wearing a lavish dress that, honestly, made Peter wonder how she didn’t trip and fall in it. All the people in the room bowed to her as she passed, and Peter couldn’t help but notice that the young woman seemed a little out of her element as she nodded her head in return. She walked up the platform to the chairs and sat down.

More footsteps filled the air, and Peter turned to look at the entrance again. His eyes widened slightly.

It was a man, with dark hair cut to his chin and a rather odd face. He was wearing the lavish clothes and animal furs that he had seen before, but Peter recognized him immediately. This was Ace, the man his master was so obsessed with.

Ace walked up the platform, but instead of sitting down in the other chair, he instead went to stand between them. Another man came forward, carrying a golden crown in his hands, and as Ace knelt down Peter realized what was happening.

The man placed the crown on Ace’s head then stepped back, bowing his head. Another man spoke. “I present to you, the first of his line,” he said to the crowd as Ace stood up. “His Royal Highness, King Ace.”

Excited murmurings went up in the crowd. Ace looked out at the crowd and briefly nodded his head to them, then turned to sit down in the chair alongside the young woman, obviously the Queen.

Peter turned around, spread his wings, and flew off back toward the ruins. A large part of him didn’t particularly want to tell Starchild what he’d seen, but he really had no choice. At the same time, Peter also remembered the story his master had told him, about that Ace taking his wings, and actually felt a twinge of indignation. Taking a faerie’s wings so he could have some crown on his head? That was just low, even for a human.

-*-

Starchild had gone very, very still by the time Peter finished his report.

“Someday, y’know, I’ll live there, in the castle,”

Of course. How could he have so stupidly forgotten the one thing Ace had always wanted?

He finally spoke, his voice shaking… with what, he wasn’t sure. “He did this to me… so he could be king?”

He didn’t want to cry anymore. He had cried more than enough tears over Ace and his betrayal. What he felt now was rage.

Deep purple magic began to materialize around him as his anger rose higher and higher. His breathing turned ragged and his shoulders shook. The grip his hands had on his walking stick tightened until his knuckles turned white, and for a moment he imagined it was Ace’s neck.

He turned his head to the sky, and let out a long, primal scream.

The deep purple magic shot up into the air and broke through the clouds, twisting into a column of purple light. Purple lightning bolts shot out of the column and struck stones around the ruins, exploding them all to rubble. For a moment, Starchild stared up at it, frozen, eyes blazing.

Then he lowered his head, and the magic dispersed. Sheer rage was still surging through him, and inhuman growling came from the back of his throat as he breathed raggedly.

I’ll never hurt ya Starshine This is true love Starshine Let me help you I’ll keep you safe

I love you, Starshine.

Lies. All of it had been nothing but lies. And he’d fallen for all of them.

Behind him, Peter spoke up. “What now, Master?”

Snarling like an animal, Starchild turned around, his eyes wild with rage. He wordlessly waved his hand, turning Peter back into a cat, and stormed off. With every step, stones flew out of his path, and as he passed under a still-intact entryway, the entire entryway broke apart and flew in all directions.

“Well, when I become king, we can change all of that.”

“We could really unite the two kingdoms?”

“Sure! We’ll do it together, Starshine!”

He wanted to travel back in time and berate his child self. How could he have been so naïve as to think Ace would be any different than all the other arrogant, selfish humans?

As Starchild left the ruins with Peter bounding after him, leaving them in much worse shape than when he’d arrived, the one coherent thought that broke through the anger consuming his mind was Get back to the Moors.

He couldn’t live like this anymore; hiding away in pitiful ruins (human ruins), scavenging for food, waking up screaming and crying every night from the same dream… and letting Ace go unpunished for what he’d done.

He was tired of humans controlling his life. And he was not going to let another human shatter him again, or take away anything else he cared about.

Get back to the Moors.

-*-

He walked all through the night, and would have continued into the day if Peter hadn’t insisted on stopping to rest. So he begrudgingly stopped and let Peter take a brief nap, before setting off again. The entire time, his anger never faded, not even a little. If anything, it increased. The ground would lightly rumble under his feet, any plant growth he passed would burst into dark purple flames and die, and dark clouds seemed to follow him overhead. He passed between two small divides made of stone, and with every step he took the stones were flung out of formation into all directions behind him.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally, Starchild saw the familiar standing stones up ahead. He was nearly there. He came to the boulder he had perched on just over a month ago, and climbed to stand atop it. He opened his mouth and began to shout in the tree language, his voice projecting out into the forest. “Border guards! I summon you here now!”

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then he heard rustling and heavy footsteps, and turned just in time to see Gene appear from out of the trees. Upon seeing him, Gene froze in surprise, then began to growl at him, demanding to know where he’d been. Starchild ignored him and looked out into the forest, watching as more and more of the border guards emerged. When they saw him, they all began asking him where he had been, what had happened to him… and what had happened to his wings. They were all especially shocked to see him without his wings.

Their constant questioning about his wings did the most to make Starchild’s rage flare up again. His hand tightened around his walking stick, glowing faintly purple, and he raised it up in the air then banged it down against the boulder. “QUIET!”

Purple magic shot out from the tip of his walking stick, hitting all the border guards. There was instant silence.

Starchild looked out at them all, then began to speak, his voice the most powerful it had ever been. “I know you all have many questions. You ask what happened to me, and my wings? I will tell you what happened. They were taken from me… burned off my back by the same filthy human that now sits on the Jendell throne! He tricked me, made me think he wanted to help me, even made me think he loved me,” he spat out the word like it was poison, “all so he could steal my wings and become the king! He blinded me with all his lies, but I see him now for what he truly is—a greedy, selfish, arrogant piece of filth, just like the rest of his kind! Have any of you ever wondered why we continue letting humans invade our home? For centuries, it has been war after war after war, with the greedy humans forcing us to defend ourselves. At the end of every war, they say there will be peace, but they lie! Not even a month ago they tried to take the Moors again, not even thirty years after the war that took my parents’ lives! They don’t stop… they will never stop!

“Why do we let them attack, and always force us to defend? We have always been nothing more than sitting ducks! Well, I say, not anymore! The Moors cannot survive with us simply trusting in one another; we need clear and strong leadership. And although my wings are gone, I am still protector of the Moors. I can give us that leadership! But I cannot do it by myself. You have all fought by my side in defending the Moors, and I cannot think of anyone better to help me! Join me, and I will make sure the Moors are never defenseless again!”

Starchild looked out at all the border guards. “What say you?” he asked of them. “Who will stand with me?”

For one long moment, there was silence. None of the guards moved, or spoke, only stared at him.

Then…

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Starchild turned his head. At the front of the group of guards was none other than Gene. He held his spear out in front of him, and was banging the end of it against the ground. Then Starchild heard another tapping spear join Gene’s, then another, then another… until every single one of the border guards were banging their spears against the ground.

The corner of Starchild’s mouth quirked up into a miniature smirk. He turned around and walked out of the clearing, the border guards falling into step behind him.

-*-

Clouds rolled over the sun, and the sky went utterly dark over the Moors as thunder rumbled. The glowing lilies floating in the lake one by one winked out. The Fair Folk looked around in surprise and confusion… then turned and froze when they saw Starchild come out from among the trees, the border guards behind him. Gasps went up when they saw the faerie, and someone cried out, “His wings!”

For their protector no longer had his large black wings. And although he looked the same, save for a black jacket and black boots, his features were no longer soft and gentle, and kindness no longer radiated from him. His features were now sharper and cold, and what the Fair Folk felt from him now made them all incredibly afraid.

He walked past them all toward the very center of the large lake island. As he did, the branches on the trees grew longer, growing and connecting with branches and vines that grew out of the ground. The branches and vines twisted together, forming the back and seat of a makeshift throne.

Starchild walked towards the sprouting throne with his head held high, and the look on his face perhaps would have been solemn if his features weren’t so cold and stony. Each step was slow and deliberate, to better make the Fair Folk realize what was happening. He didn’t bother turning his head to look at them as he passed, but could feel the shock and terror radiating from them all.

When Starchild lowered himself to sit on his throne, he understood for the first time in his life why humans loved power so much. He ruled over the Moors now, had a different power that wasn’t magic, that would allow him to get what he wanted… and knowing that made him feel more powerful than he’d ever felt in his life.

Peter jumped up onto a stone beside him, and Starchild lifted a hand to run his fingers over Peter’s fur. He finally turned his head and looked out at the Fair Folk, taking in their intimidation and fear. Every movement was smooth and calculated, and every inch of Starchild gave off the impression that he could easily rip them apart if they even thought about protesting this new reality. To his satisfaction, the Fair Folk all averted their gazes whenever his eyes met theirs.

To his left, Gene pointed his spear at the Fair Folk and growled threateningly, the other border guards following suit. Shaking in fear, one after another the creatures began to bow, until all of them were bowing in respect to Starchild.

Starchild looked out at them all, and for a moment, he felt a flash of something akin to guilt. The old Starchild would have been appalled at the thought of doing this, and would (ironically) rather cut off his wings than impose his own authority on the Moors.

But that Starchild was a fool; a naïve, starry-eyed fool who thought he’d been given true love’s kiss. He had been content to cry, wanting nothing more than to wallow in misery and sob over Ace stealing his wings and ripping his heart to pieces. That Starchild was dead. And this one, this new Starchild, did not want to cry. He would not cry anymore.

What he wanted now was vengeance. 

And he would get it, one way or another.

Lightning flashed, illuminating Starchild’s cold face.

[vesperlionheart]

Imbolc

Arranged Marriage SakuraUchiha gift for @beyondthemoor because she’s amazing and deserves this. Hope you enjoy friend! Sorry for the rush edits and typos I’m sure I missed along the way. 

She broke the night with the clashing of metal on metal. The fire was hot and glowing an angry red behind her as she brought the hammer back down to the anvil with another ring. Again and again she fashioned the form out of something formless until the end result was a blade hungry for moonlight and war.

“She who is adored by the poets, she who heals, and she who smiths bid me so that I may know what face do you wear for me tonight?”

Sakura looked up from her blade, now cold to the touch, and frowned at the figure just beyond the reach of her forge’s protective ring. The imp crouched low but threw its voice to appear elsewhere. It should have known better than to provoke her when she worked.

Returning her sword to the working table she trekked out to the edge of her  forge and undid the ties around her sleeves, letting them fall free over her hands where her magic might be concealed. The imp shivered but did not retreat, not his first mistake but likely his last.

“Return to your shadows and take the fruits from your markets elsewhere. I do no welcome you to my lands. “

The imp chittered to itself in stressed glee. “Dear oh dear oh dear, oh dear, she bids me fleeeeee.”

Sakura lifted her hand and an older blade, larger and longer than any man’s arm might dare to wield hung suspended in air just beyond her fingertips. She twitched her pinky and the blade leveled horizontally, edges shining in moonlight.

The imp’s chittering cut off on a strangled gurgle of fear.

When she spoke her words were darker and calmer than well water. “Return, worm.”

It sprung from the shadows and stretched itself out on the ground, prostrate. “Exalted one! All respects to the goddess of the forge, the spring, and the healing, all respect to the triple goddess, all respect be brought to thee. We seek to humbly beg a seat at your wedding table for our master.”

Sakura’s ire wavered and then returned full force. Her fingers flexed and the blade impaled the imp through his body, cutting him neatly in half before he could regret the folly of his words. Her sword swung under the moonlight, dripping with black ichor she blew off before returning her sword to the world she kept it for.

“The nerve of some of these parasites.”

She returned to the table where her new moon sword waited for her. She sat with it and listened to the metal singing in the moonlight before etching the spell work into its blade with her enchanted etch.  

It was comforting work she was thankful for. It helped distract her from the unavoidable end of her independence. That was the price she owed for her own part in her brother’s loss with the war between invaders and gods.

The sun crested over the hill and Sakura opened her eyes, but the forge was gone. She had no more need for it as her nature was new once more. She breathed deep and the forest breathed with her. She stepped down the grass field and flowers bloomed where her feet touched the ground all the way to the river bed where the foliage positively sang for her.

“You had a hard night?” the fae from the other side of the water asked.

“An unwelcome guest stained the threshold of my door. I detest the stink of hubris.”

Ino grinned with all the sickening charm of a Good Neighbor and laughed. “And yet you will be bound to not one but three such monsters in one more night’s time.”

Sakura set her mouth into a hard line and the world around her stilled, vegetation seemed to hold its breath around her. No new flowers bloomed when she walked along the river’s edge. “Have you come to ask for seat at my table, mind walker?”

“Don’t be so cold to your oldest friend,” Ino laughed.

Sakura didn’t join her. There was a reason she wore a silver bell around her belt.

“I am not bound by the old magics to give or deny you anything. Ask plainly and do not be deceitful, as is your nature.” Sakura steeped out onto the surface of the water cut between them. When she spoke again her voice was softer. “Speak your desire to me, Ino.”

At the sound of her name the fae queen stilled and seemed to settle. She watched Sakura plainly with eyes that had seen the beginning of the world as well as the end of it. After a moment she took a step to the edge, toes curling over the lip as came as close as she dared.

“Seat me at your table, old friend. Let me share in your day. I will not ask again.”

“It’s not in your nature to ask for anything, so I won’t deny you, even though it pains me,” Sakura sighed, relaxing. It seemed Ino wasn’t in the mood to make mischief. “You will have your seat at my table. Bring your horned king. It will be a feast for the ages.”

Ino’s shoulders relaxed and she reached out to touch the side of Sakura’s face. They were creatures of opposite natures, but in spite of that Ino and Sakura were alike enough to be friends. “Tell me of your heart, dear friend. What do you fear?”

“I fear nothing. I do what must be done.” Sakura rested her hand atop Ino’s and leaned into the touch of it. “The three faces of my nature might not be easily understood. I do not know how they will meet me.”

“They offered you three princes from their table. Might you think this shows their respect for your nature?”

“Perhaps.”

The pair lapsed into silence and followed the river to its splitting point. By the end of the day Sakura was another aspect of herself, healing the sickness from the creatures that managed to bring themselves to her sacred glade.

Before the next new morning could dawn she felt the chill of a trespassing onto the last of her temples. Any other time she might not have cared, but all her shrines had been desecrated and all her tables laid to ruin save one. It was the oldest and strongest of her temples, but it was still a crude and weathered thing hiding in the fog around an island peaking up out of a lake.

Sakura caught up the ends of her dress, the fabric wrinkling under her fingers as she turned and traversed a dozen leagues in a single step. She walked until she was at the edge of the lake where she could see a collection of boats moored on the sides. Off between the trees a couple of men in the Conqueror’s odd armor sat, eating breakfast. No one turned to see her through the veil of her magic, so she stepped out onto the waters and crossed them to her island.

A single boat big enough for four was left moored on her rocks. Foot prints in the stones and grass led away from it up to her temple.

Her last temple.

She would give up her godhood, her title, her lands, and bend her head to offer her power to these new people, but the last of her temples was a place she would end herself for. The old kings, sleeping and waiting for the end days, were hers to watch over and she was willing to pay their price with her blood.

She drew the bog’s fog up around her and the air turned thick and gray as she passed through the stones, carved and etched with her sacred words. It wasn’t enough that they stole her people from her. Must they also defile the last of her secret places?

There were three of them, one taller and older than the others with long wild hair, woven back into a thick braid down to his waist. The one behind him was slight and fair with the same dark hair, though his was tame as silk, unbraided and free over his shoulders. The last had his hair cut neatly short, though curled over the edges of a golden circlet. He was thicker in frame than the second man, but not the first. All had the eyes of the conquerors, black pools that bled red like fire with wicked magic.

‘They can kill a god and it is not for us to die, so we will make peace with them and wait until their mortal lives expire.’

Sakura drew the fog around her tighter and pressed up against a pillar, keen to hide herself when she knew their eyes could see through her magic if they were clever enough to use it at the right time.

“This is it?” the curly haired one asked, skipping ahead to the front and then peering back over his shoulder. “It’s not a lot to look at.”

“The fog obscures vision,” the tallest and broadest of them said.

“Still not a lot to look at, I mean I know they said we left this temple untouched, but are you sure. Itachi, is this place supposed to look so barren?”

The one with hair like silk climbed the stone steps up alongside his companion and hummed thoughtfully as he watched the last wisps of fog drift past the center of the temple. “It is the relic site. This is the oldest of her temples and likely the one in the most disrepair. Only her most devout knew about this location.”

“Until us,” the curly one chuckled.

He was smacked upside the head by their leader. “Hush, Shisui and show some respect. Or have your forgotten the reason we came here today?”

Itachi stopped and looked back, frowning at Shisui. “Madara is right, we are not here to disrespect the good lady any more than she’s already been. We came with gifts for that reason.”

The comment made Sakura relax slightly, more curious than agitated. It sounded like they didn’t know the true importance of her last shrine, or even how to get to it. The stone work above ground was only for show. Of course it looked shabby.

Shisui pouted and pulled out a bundle of brown paper that crinkled. “Where do we even leave this stuff, though?”

“Look for the icons,” said Madara.

Madara pressed on and then waved back over his shoulder as she started to take the steps down into the sunken circle at the far end were three stones with the same face carved into them. At the base of each was a small alter laid bare save for one unmoving object. One the first alter a sword, on the second a flowering tree branch, and on the last a serpent woven around a wand.

Madara was first to slide up to her alter with the sword. He knelt before it and began to remove his own offerings. Behind him Shisui walked up to the alter with the flowering branch, kneeling to unbind the brown paper. Itachi approached the last alter, more hesitantly than the other two, but he knelt and started to bring out his own offerings.

Sakura felt warm in her chest when the first small candle was lit to burn instance for her. A small dagger decorated with mother of pearl rested next to the bag of spices, candles, and bread. Madara also cut free some salted meat to leave on the bread and pair it with a simple flagon of his favorite wine.

Shisui had his own clustering of colorful flowers, bound together in pretty ribbon the same color as the candle. He laid out a letter as well, sealed with wax. His letter was already known to her the moment it touched her alter, but she would wait until later to dissect his poetry for her.

Itachi was the last to set out his offerings. He lit scented candles as well, but prepared for her a collection of spices and filled a goblet with wine. A handful of mallow blossoms cushioned the candles, and in a silk bag were a number of candies made from the blossom mothers would use to sooth the throats of their crying sons and daughters.

Sakura realized at once who these three men were without a doubt.

The said a small prayer she could hear in her heart even if her ears didn’t. Then they left one by one. Madara finished first and gathered his extra items, carrying them off. Shisui followed soon after, but was quick to catch up with Madara and begin talking in his ear. Itachi stood last but paused to stare up at her stone face, watching it like it was made to move. The fog separated Shisui and Madara from Itachi they were so far away, but Itachi stayed a moment long before dragging his feet across the circle and them up the stairs.

Sakura emerged from behind the stones and stepped into the circle, walking until the shrines were behind her. The stones circled around a center piece she stopped on.

The fog drifted low, but when Itachi turned to look back from the top of the stairs she was sure he could see her. His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open only a fraction. It was a pretty mouth and she might have taken it for herself if he were closer.

Further back Shisui’s chattering carried. “What do you think it’ll be like, all married to the same person? Is she one body or does she have three of those? Will I have to sleep with you, Uncle?”

“Shut up before I crush your face. Kagami could still take your place.”

“Not a chance, I earned this!”

Their voices drifted, muffled and lost on the other side of the fog but Itachi stayed rooted to the top of the stairs, eyes fixed on her. She picked up a marshmallow candy and held it between her fingers. Slowly, knowing he watched her every move, she slipped the candy between her lips into her mouth and swallowed, licking the powder off her fingers without breaking eye contact with the young prince.

Itachi staggered and she pulled up the fog between them. A moment later he stumbled back down into the sunken circle, waving away the fog only to find nothing. She wore her veil of invisibility well and would never be seen if he didn’t turn around, but she couldn’t help herself. Sakura stepped up behind him and kissed the base of his neck, then melted into the fog with just enough time to miss getting caught by his spinning red eyes.

-

Madara sat at the head of his table and watched the banquet with his red eyes spinning, picking out the celestial gods and men alike who mingled over good ale and better wine. They intermingled so easily it was hard to imagine that only months earlier they had been at war. The Uchiha had suffered heavy losses, but men could be replaced, gods could not.

He heard the sound of a muted bell and turned suddenly, hoping to see her, but Sakura hadn’t approached his table yet. She was somewhere in the hall, but there were three husbands with three different tables she needed to visit at her leisure.

They had warned him she might show favor to only one of them if her dominate feature didn’t change throughout the night. He was still getting used to what that meant and wasn’t sure he exactly understood it, but he was willing to wait until it was his turn.

“She’s with Itachi. Poor sap is practically disgraced at the table,” Izuna teased at his brother’s side.

Madara growled but let his brother speak. Izuna was the only one who could get away with saying such things and keep his head on his shoulders. Madara wouldn’t tolerate anyone else speaking so casually with him.

“He is her husband as much as I am. That’s to be expected,” he forced himself to say. “And don’t taunt me just because you’re still sore Itachi won your bid.”

Izuna frowned and leaned back away from his brother. “That’s beside the point, aren’t you grumpy big brother? Want to play a game to pass the time?”

“Not at all.”

Izuna chuckled into his wine. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m patient.”

Izuna drank and then pushed around some food on his plate before brushing it aside to lean across the table. “Tell me, brother, what was she like when you exchanged your vows? What did you see?”

“You know what she looks like.”

“She keeps herself mostly veiled to us onlookers. I know she’s stunning beautiful, but that’s to be expected of a goddess, isn’t it?”

Madara had seen multiple gods and goddesses and all had perfect, flawless bodies, but they weren’t fae, they weren’t covered in a glamor that made them impossibly beautiful. They still had human features and characteristics. Sakura was-Sakura had-

Madara reached for his wine and drank deep.

The memory of their union haunted him. Sakura was even more perfect than in any of his dreams from boyhood on. Or maybe it was just another nightmare, mocking him with its haunting details.

The night wore on and Izuna left to mingle at the other tables but Madara waited in his seat at the head of the table. It was where he was supposed to stay until she greeted him. 

There was plenty of entertainment. As the goddesses adored by poets, there was an unending stream of composers, bards, and entertainers that wished to share some of their achievements at her wedding. Some sang beautifully enough to even move Madara, but it did little to put his heart at ease as the first night of feasting drew to a close.

“It’s alright. Three husbands, three nights, that’s just how it’s going to go. Did you expect her to come to you on the first night?” Izuna asked him later as they retreated to bed.

Madara said nothing but was thankful enough that his brother didn’t say anything else about how Itachi had retired much earlier to his chambers. He didn’t want to think about things that would only turn his heart in envy. They all knew they would have to share the goddess between them, and he was ready for that, but that didn’t mean some things wouldn’t annoy him.  Maybe it would be better once he was visited on his own.

He took his time getting ready for bed, reading through supply reports and field updates for his troop movements into the lands unruled by clans. They waged war against the gods first, but past the civilized lands were the wilds where savage clans still needed conquering. It was fickle work the gods didn’t care for one way or the other.

He poured more drink for himself, upset by how awake he was and went to the window.

Silver in the night caught his eye. The moon was mostly swollen and nearly full, so the figure practicing in the field below was outlined in silver. Her blade was magnificent and long. When she swung her whole body moved, minimizing the window an opponent might seize for an opening.

His hand stilled, wine halfway to his lips, when he realized who practiced in the fields.

He didn’t stop to take a robe, only his own sword. Less than a minute later he was on the ground level, stalking out towards the field where his wife practiced alone among the grass and weeds.

“You do not look exhausted,” he called to her.

Sakura finished her stance, swinging the sword out wide, switching from two hands to one before locking into a new stance that faced him, expression firm and ready. She lifted a single brow and fixed her eyes on his form. His shirt was open, collar to navel, and tucked into his most comfortable riding trousers. She lifted her eyes to his face at last and Madara warmed in appreciate when he read her approval.

“Nor do you,” she finally said. Sakura swung her blade around and then let it rest at her side. “Were you terribly bothered with the feast’s lavish delights?”

“Absolutely overwhelmed.” Madara grinned and held up his own sword. “Would you mind the company?”

“To spar or dance?”

Practicing the steps alongside one could be considered a dance, but Madara’s blood was finally racing. “Let us cross blades and dance with our teeth,” he chuckled, unsheathing his blade and fixing his body into a ready stance.

She inclined her chin and grinned. “I’m not nearly your equal with the blade, please go easy on me,” she cooed.

“Not a chance, my lady.”

She laughed and then lunged.

Sparring with a goddess was exhilarating. Her domains were not war related, in fact she was a goddess more closely associated with the home and hearth, but as one of her aspects was the goddess of forge work and the craft of weapon smithing, she knew the balance of her blade well.  

Still, Madara was an Uchiha for a reason, and with his red eyes cutting through her magic, he stood found himself gaining ground on her. She was fast and strong, and most importantly she didn’t tire, but Madara was a desperate animal in comparison, and Sakura likely didn’t know what it meant to want something so bad it eclipsed the desire to live.

Their swords sang and with his strength he sent her blade swinging out of her hands, arching overhead to cut across the moon and impale itself in the grass behind her. He pushed on and managed to pin her to the grasses, blade at her pale neck.

“You didn’t make it easy for me,” he panted on a laugh.

Sakura lowered the lids of her eyes and tilted her head back, exposing more neck. “You have me at your mercy my lord. I apparently did not make it too easy for you.”

Madara removed the blade, but settled his hands on either side of her face and loomed over her. His hair was wild and free of its usual braid, making a curtain around them as he moved directly over her.

“You didn’t visit my table tonight.”

“I didn’t.”

He touched the side of her face, smearing a trace of soil there. It did nothing to diminish her beauty in his eyes. He felt himself at a loss in spite of his status as the obvious winner.

“I wanted you,” he breathed, face close enough that his nose touched hers. “Did you know?”

“I knew.”

He made a sound with his lips, closing his eyes and nudging his face under her jaw. He hissed her neck where his sword had been only moment earlier and delighted when he felt her stiffen beneath him.

“You know I want you now, don’t you?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond but slanted his lips over hers and kissed her deeply, nearly falling on top of her as he felt her hands come up behind his neck to pull him down to her. Madara tasted his favorite wine on her and couldn’t help but remember his offering at her shrine.

Sakura moved under him, rising up her body to brush his and he felt the thinness of her night dress.  He pulled away to trail kisses down the side of her face, neck, to her chest and he hear her moan his name.

His hand found her thigh and pushed up the fabric to her hip and held the curve of her there. “You are my wife, are you not?” he asked, sane enough to hesitate for her.

“And you are my husband, are you not?” she countered.

Madara swallowed and fought down his urges for a handful of words. “And... do you want me now?”

He met her eyes and nearly lost himself at how clear and beautiful they were in the moonlight. She didn’t say anything more, but in response she reached up again and pulled him back down to kiss him thoroughly.

-

Shisui found her on the third day in the halls, choking the life out of something not quite human. The creature was human shaped and had fingers ending in points still dripping with her blood. Sakura turned to look back over her shoulder, completely unconcerned with the pale green-white ichor spilling from her side. It was already starting to seal up and turn back into flesh.

“And here I thought I had fallen in love with the most docile of your three aspects,” Shisui joked, grinning like mad at the lifeless form held aloft.

Sakura released her hold on its throat and it crumpled to the floor and burst into dust. When she turned the train of her gown fluttered through the smoke, blooming with new flowers.

“What do you think the spring blooms feed on, my love?” she called back, knowing better than anyone else that Shisui was joking with her.

He knew exactly what sort of nature her spring aspect was. He had left her letters at her shrine, so of course she wrote him back.  

“You are terrifying,” he chuckled, color high on his cheeks.

“And you love it, so don’t pretend otherwise,” she said, as she stepped over the dust to stand before him. “What are you doing here? You should be at your table, should you not?”

Shisui’s eyes were dark in the dimly lit hallway, but they were starting to bleed with a brighter color. “Yes, I should, but I am terrible about being conventional and following rules, as you already know. It’s the third day and both my sincere but sickly cousin and even my gruff old uncle have been graced with your presence. It’s the last day and I’m jealous.”

“You should have learned how to share,” she chastised him. So close to him he realized how he was a head and a half taller than her. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“I’m…” Shisui had to swallow before saying anything more. “I’m terribly dull and not very good when it comes to learning new things. Do you think perhaps you could, teach me?”

“I am better as a muse than a teacher,” she answered, rocking back on her heels and holding her elbows after crossing her arms.

Shisui stiffened when it looked like she wouldn’t advance any more. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and laughed over a cough. “Ah, well maybe I could use a muse.”

“Maybe you could,” she chuckled, leaning back again.

She didn’t advance and made no move to take any aggressive stance with him, in spite of how he found her only moments ago. She was a terrifying woman he was excited for and yet she didn’t seem interested in him.

“Do you enjoy torturing all your lovers, or just the ones you know will suffer the most?” he sighed, smile turning sloppy.

“You seem to have a fair grasp on my nature, why don’t you tell me, husband?” she said, tilting her head to the side and smiling out of the corner of her mouth.

Her hair was partly braided, but huge curls slipped over her bare shoulders and brushed the front of her emerald green dress. It was soft and shimmered in velvet waves, caught up in a silver triangle just under her breasts.

“I am no expert on your nature, as any poet could laughingly tell you, my goddess.” He chuckled as his tone turned self depreciating. “Now I only wish to ask you honestly, if you find my union to your nature less than pleasing? If there is something I lack, please let me fix it.”  

“Do you think you are lacking?”

Shisui liked to think himself confident, but he knew he wasn’t. He knew he was a pretty lie. Out of the three of them, he had only just barely won his bid and knew that if he hadn’t thrown his hat in, Kagami or Izuna would have filled in just fine and probably done a better job of being a good husband. They at least had a purer linage to fall back on, they at least had conquests of their own to boast of. He wasn’t even sure why he had been chosen or won the bid in the first place, he was just so glad he didn’t want to question it.

“You expect much from me?” he asked, expression matching his hopeful tone.

Her lips parted then turned down in a frown as she moved close enough to reach his face and hold it with one hand. “I expect much from all my husbands, and first and foremost I expect their confidence. You are my consort, you stand at my side and will warm my bed in the night. Can you think yourself unworthy of that?”  

“Of course not,” he lied.

She applied more pressure, not enough to be painful, but enough to show him he was caught good and sure. Her free hand grabbed at his wrist and he felt himself pushed back against the stone wall of the corridor. Weeds in between the cracks began to grow, wrapping around his fingers first and then his hands and arms.

“Tell me why you doubt,” she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

“Tell me why I was chosen,” he countered, unafraid of her bindings.

She put her lips under his ear and whispered, breath hot on his skin enough to make him shiver. “Ooh to find the pale shadow of a woman, the black Delilah, the eternal mother, the willow, and ash tree’s maker. Call her ancient queen and weep. She digs your graves with her silver spoon and buries your thankful heart.”

She bit the side of his neck and he caught his cry between his teeth, swallowing the sound as she sucked on his skin, making her mark. She pulled away enough to kiss her love bite and Shisui tried not to shiver.

“You think I could ignore the writer of such words?”

“You think that’s enough?” he breathed.

She grabbed at his throat and her fingers tilted his face down. “Don’t look down on the words of men, for they will move mountains with their pens while the sword of lesser brutes break upon the rocks. You are a knave and a fool and a little bit of a broken soul, but I married you so have some more confidence, Shisui.”

“That’s a fairly accurate summary of a bard,” he laughed, still excited and dizzy for her. “Not exactly what the Uchiha were proud to count in their ranks.”

“What you lack is not what I care for. Your family is a community of conquerors, and you have forgotten to value the arts, but that does not mean you can be ashamed of them. Your stories, your songs, your poetry…all of these things are what I adore.”

When she looked up into his eyes she saw his true nature and all the shame he hid under witty smiles and silver tongued words. Sakura dropped her hand and backed away. The weeds holding him in place went slack.

“I won’t touch you again until you fix that way of thinking.”

Shisui surged, reaching for her. “I won’t have to.”  

And because he kissed her with the fullness of his confidence she let him.

-

The dawn was a mess of colors, some as soft as her hair, others as brilliant as the eyes of her husbands. Sakura watched the sunrise from her window. Behind her on the bed Madara and Shisui slept far apart from each other on opposite sides. Beside Shisui Itachi slept on, taking his turn on the edge apart from her.

Each one slept off his mortal exhaustion while Sakura was left to ponder the nature of her predicament. Her belly was noticeably swollen now, and their other children were on the far side of the castle, asleep between their dogs and various guardian animals.

Sakura hummed to herself, warming her face with the new light while stroking the swell of her belly. When the curtain of invisibility dropped over the room, separating her and her guest from her sleeping husbands she didn’t react.

“You’re far too content,” the new voice said.

“You were the one who agreed I should be the sacrifice. You married me off for this very reason.”

“We didn’t expect so many children. You’re seeding the earth.”

Sakura laughed, eyes bright with mirth as she turned to face the god of skies and thunder. “I am the goddess of spring, among other things. Between three husbands four or five children shouldn’t be unusual.”

“You have no plans to stop at four or five.”

Sakura hummed, a pretty blush turning her cheeks pink. “They spoil me terribly when I’m pregnant and I do love having children of my own. You could never do that for me, after all.”

Kakashi sucked in a breath and it was a moment more before he spoke. “Even though we were not compatible, I didn’t think that mattered. These mortals will expire before the century ends. Please don’t…continue with your wild seeding. The other gods are nervous.”

“Why would they be nervous?” she laughed with a knowing look to her eyes. “Just because my children can kill you doesn’t mean they will. I could kill you. You could kill me. Ability doesn’t imply motive.”

“They possess mortal hearts. They will not think as we do. Sakura, please. They’re willing to take you back. We can drive out the invaders now. Our numbers are more-”

“No.”

Kakashi went very still. “No?”

“They’re not invaders, they’re my family and I love them.” Sakura smiled down at her belly and stroked it lovingly. “I’ll protect them and hide them away on my island of Avalon to live forever. When the world ends they’ll rise up along all our kings and I’ll be there.” She turned to look up at Kakashi through her lashes. “But you won’t be. Remember how you feel in this moment, Kakashi, for the next time you offer up your lover for an easy peace. I am the goddess of many things. Your death may very well be one of them.”

Kakashi was gone faster than lightning and the curtain of his invisibility shattered with a soundless breath. Still, somehow, Itachi stirred. He was always the most sensitive to her magic.

She watched him wake, blinking blearily up at the colored sky through the window before noticing her there on the sill. His smile was still shy after so many years, but it didn’t stop him from creeping out of bed and making a beeline for her.

“How is my goddess this morning?” he asked in a whisper.

Itachi knelt in front of her and pushed up her night dress enough so that he might kiss her belly without obstruction. Sakura bit her lip, delighted at the tickle of his kiss.

“She’s delighted, of course. And her little girl is happy too now that her father is awake.”

Itachi’s smile stretched wide across his face. “Not as happy as her father is, I’m sure. We could use a girl after so many boys.”

He kissed her belly again and whispered ‘good morning little one’ into her skin. Sakura felt a kick and looked up to see Itachi’s delighted expression. It warmed her heart more than anything else ever had in all the years of her long life.

“Itachi,” she whispered his name.

When he looked up he frowned at the tears on her face. “Why do you cry, my love?”

“I’m so happy I’m with you,” she laughed through her whisper. She reached for him and kissed his hair, tears falling anew. “Thank you for saving me.”

He chuckled and kissed her back. “I’m not sure what I saved you from, but I’m happy to bring you joy.”

“Forever and ever?” she sighed.

“Forever and ever,” he promised.  

[fan-clan-fun]

ForestClan 2.0

these guys again… always improving on it! i thought about doing allegiances too, but tbh i can’t decide on what cats i want/what i want them to look like, so that’s not gonna be included sorry. i’m also not that great at describing stuff but i’m going to try my best.

Wonderful I enjoy seeing what people have for their fan clans!

Territory: ForestClan lives in a temperate deciduous forest, with a wide variety of tree species. They see themselves as the trees, adaptable and changing. Their territory is home to many plant species as well, making it a prime spot to collect herbs and such.

Camp: The ForestClan camp is accessed through a large, moss-covered fallen tree trunk, from long ago. It’s big and wide enough for an adult cat to fit through. Upon entering, the camp is covered by a canopy of trees, and in the center is a towering oak tree called the Great Oak where the leader makes their announcements and sleeps in, as well. The dens are nestled around the Great Oak, which the clan feels serves as a guardian, sent by their ancestors to watch over them. The seer’s den is nestled beneath the roots of the Great Oak, and has been long since served the seers of ForestClan. Apprentices sleep across from the seer den, with warriors on the other side. The nursery is well-hidden behind several clumps of ferns and brambles, the inside is well insulated and well protected during the colder moons. The elder’s den is located near a shady corner close to the prey pile. Both the nursery and elder’s den are closest to the camp entrance.

I really enjoy the camp description! I have always loved camps that were all centered around one tree, it just gives it so much character. Especially when it becomes an entity of its own. My only concern is if the kit and elders den are closest to the entrance does that make them the most vulnerable to attack? Or is that the most well defended part of the camp?

Landmarks: The Great Oak - a large, towering oak tree that’s the heart of ForestClan camp where the leader sleeps and makes announcements. It’s rumored that it’s branches reach the sky and that its roots reach down far into the earth. It’s very sturdy and has lived through many seasons and years of toil. One can even see it when atop a tree in MarshClan territory!

The Glade - a glade where apprentices learn to do battle training, storytelling, and various other events are held here as well. This is also a prime spot for herbs for seers.

The Snakerocks - located beside the river that runs between Forest and Marsh territory, it’s a prime sunning spot for both cats - and is also home to many dangerous snakes.

Sounds like some pretty basic locations. You could also expand and add a few more, even if its just the basic borders, more landmarks is always nice. 

Prey: Birds - Cardinal, Sparrow, Dove, Woodpecker, Grackle, Warbler, etc Mammals - Mice, Rats, Squirrels, Shrews, Chipmunks, Rabbits Reptiles + Amphibians - Lizards, Frogs, some snakes Other: various bugs and insects Predators: Foxes, Snakes, Falcon, Eagle, Harrier, Owls, Raccoon, Coyote, Hawk, Vulture, Osprey, Domestic Dogs (when humans come through w their dogs)

Clan Appearance: Longhair is very common, shorthaired cats less so. Brown tabbies are very common, red is uncommon, cream is rare. Dilute colors are uncommon, white spotting is low to nonexistent. Solid black cats are looked favorably at, as their dark pelt helps aid them in hunting at night (they have a legend about how the night sky gave part of its pelt to a cat and this helped them in catching more prey when their clan was in need.) Colorpoint is, surprisingly, common…ish! Not as common as brown tabbies, but it still is there. Tortoiseshells are also looked favorably. Most common type of tabby is the mackerel tabby, though classic may pop up from time to time. The silver gene is almost non-existent; ForestClan, at one point, had an abundance of it, and kits w the silver gene were culled or left to die in the territory (if U remember that star thing i posted last time?? that’s where this is from!). Eye colors are commonly hazel, yellow or green. Their coats are plush and thick. Their shoulders are broad and their legs are muscular - they’re beefcakes lol. Scars are heavily favored in ForestClan, as it signals that you are a strong cat and that you have survived; they also just find them pretty in a morbid sort of way. Along with their tufted ears and hardened expression, ForestClan gives off a very intimidating vibe… which is how they like it lol.

Mmmm broad shouldered tabbies, I just LOVE it. Strong beefy babies are my kryptonite, though I also go for the opposite too. As for coloration these all make pretty good sense for their territory. 

Clan Skills: Climbing is a skill that ForestClan prides themselves on. They are known for their battle prowess as well, and are said to be terrifying to face in battle. They have a keen sense of direction and know their way through the paths the forest has laid out - it’s surprisingly easy to get lost in a forest if you don’t know the layout of it; kits are taken on ‘field trips’ at a young age and learn to navigate the paths in the forest. By the time an apprentice is ready to graduate to warrior, one of their 'trials’ is to navigate through the forest to get to the glade where they will then be given their proper warrior name (or more tests… haven’t decided yet). Despite their large size, these cats have good balancing skills which is a surprise to many.

I like this a lot. Its super important for a clan to begin educating their young at least a bit before apprenticeship. I always thought that keeping your kits cooped up in camp is just a bad idea, so helping them learn basic navigation so warriors dont have to be constantly watching their apprentices to make sure they dont get lost. Even if its just a basic “how to navigate to camp or an important landmark so we can come find you” course.

Clan Culture: ForestClan value community, strength, and wisdom. The heroes in their stories often have very Sparta-esque qualities. ForestClan places much value on their senior warriors, as well. To be a senior warrior is seen as a wise and (to some) more attractive cat. Elders are held in high esteem as well, and have a special ceremony to acknowledge them. ForestClan also highly values motherhood, and queens are treated very well (some joke even better than the leader!) and with utmost respect. It’s customary to bow to a queen, elder or senior warrior and the three groups form a council that, along w the seer and the leader (called Matriarch in ForestClan) makes several important decisions. A Matriarch is trained in the bloodlines of the Clan, and must know these - memory is very important to all cats, but especially so to ForestClan.

The militant clan is always an interesting one to play around with, but Im very interested in the Matriarch, since I know Ive posted about matriarchies on my blog before and I do really enjoy them. I have a similar dynamic in my own Bloomclan, though they place a much higher respect on the motherhood and teaching aspects than the battle aspects. But I really appreciate clans with councils, who can help decide as a group for the clan.

Clan Personality: To Outsiders, ForestClan can come off as appearing as a closed-off, tight-knit and very intimidating group that  seems to have no love for anyone outside of their circle. And… they would be right! ForestClan is very tight-knit group that tolerates no nonsense; to speak to one would be similar to speaking with a military official. They are direct, blunt, and are prone to giving commands than engaging in social niceties. While they can be polite, they much prefer to get to the point of the matter. Their sense of humor is very dry, if it’s present at all. Among themselves, they can and are gentle, yet firm. They expect the best of out everyone - even if a warrior has no defining skill, they are still expected to help out - whether that be storytelling, watching kits, helping a seer, or den repairs. ForestClan expects everyone to help, and if not… you are welcome to see the door.

Its a very fair culture I would say, you either contribute or you find somewhere else to go, but they dont seem to consider those without “traditional” skills to be less of an asset. And their attitudes align with a group trying to survive in a difficult environment, you dont have too much time to waste.

Thank you again for contributing! I do enjoy replying to these when I have the time.

[amora-recs]

god save our queen┊bae joohyun┊pt. 1

des: deep inside the Black Forest lies a secret. I fell love for this secret. I died for this secret.

word count: 1.5k

parts: ii. iii.

   Travelling to another country at a young age isn’t anything new for most people. But as I set foot outside of the airport and into a whole new world, I couldn’t help myself but awe at the foreign streets, smells and people. It wasn’t too cold nor was it too warm, it was the perfect weather for June, the beginning of summer vacation. Although papa told me multiple times about the pretty cabin at the edge of the forest back home in Germany, I had never seen it. Neither his new girlfriend.

“… Are you ready?” my dad asked me, taking hold of my right hand softly as if this was part of our casual routine. Wake up, get a divorce, leave to another country. Completely and utterly ordinary. After a short nod of approval, we entered the black car, on our way to the Black Forest.

“It’s alright to cry, y’know?” was what my mother repeatedly told me as we left the courtroom.

   I knew it was alright, in fact, it was more than alright, it was necessary. Or so I thought. Any twelve years old would cry after finding out their parents just got divorced, right? Getting it out of the system and so on. But I didn’t feel the need to -- heck, I didn’t know how or what to feel. I was scared, depressed, confused, disappointed with myself! It was too much for my little head to comprehend all at once already, and now I also had to cry?! I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. And my mother acknowledged that. Hopefully. As I held for dear life onto my court bear, I glanced at the woman holding my much smaller hand. It’s going to be just the two of us now, huh? Does that mean I won’t wake up to the ticklish smell of pancakes anymore? Does that mean there won’t be any more bedtime stories and pillow forts? What about Cherry’s morning walks? Or the late park visits? I did all those things with daddy only. Will mommy take his place now? She had always told me she has to work… But daddy worked too, I’m sure she can do it! My train of thoughts came to a stop as soon as mom let go of my hand, the warm traces of her hold fading too fast.

“Sweetie,” she called out, her pretty eyes all watery. I hate seeing her like this. “Mommy has to go for a while now, so be a good girl for me, ok?” her question was soon followed by a kiss on the forehead, making me smile, nodding along with her. The next thing I knew, daddy was helping me put my seatbelt on, ready to go on our new adventure, as he said. My heart was pounding. What about mom? Why won’t she be coming? I hope she’ll be alright. Soon enough, everything turned into a blur. Everything around me was tinted in grey and the sudden need for sleep hit me like a ton of bricks.

   I woke up to the sound of birds. I fell asleep, again. After the emotional rollercoaster I went through who could blame me. I glanced outside the open window of the back seat, the joyful chirps getting louder and louder. The refreshing smell of evergreen surrounded me, complimenting the greenery in front of me together with the pale sun. The sky was still blue, barely covered by white clouds. “What a nice day…” papa murmured taking in the scenery with a big smile, making me smile along with him. I missed it. “How about we do some exploring after we get settled in?” he looked through the rear view mirror. All I did was smile more. I couldn’t help it! I thought, for a second, that maybe things aren’t so bad–

“What about our alone time, darling?” Patricia, apparently, asked with a pout, her dark red lipstick exaggerating her features.

“Oh, right! I completely forgot about it!” wait, what? “Sorry, doll. Looks like we have to go exploring another time.”

“It’s ok, I guess…” it was my turn to pout, planting myself deeper into the backseat. Not even the prettiest birds could cheer me up. All I can do now is wait.

    I’ve waited and been patient, for two whole months, but my promised ‘next time’ never arrived. I waited, looking outside the window of my room at the pretty trees and flowers. I waited, reading hundreds of books outside, in the small wooden folly. I waited, picking flowers, naming them, ripping them. I waited together with the fireflies every night, dancing and talking to them. But our ‘next time’ still never came… So tell me, daddy, when will it?

“I’m going outside for a bit,” I yelled, tying up my shoelaces. A sour taste tainted my mouth as soon as Patricia opened her lips, giving me ‘the ok’. At this point, I’m not even surprised by my dad’s lack of response. He gave up around two weeks ago. I winced as I closed the door behind me, ready for my so awaited adventure. It didn’t take me too long to reach my destination. After all, the cabin was so isolated for this exact reason. For two months I’ve wanted to see what’s inside this green beautiful mess, and now the time has finally come.

   I walked with a slight bounce in my step, it was as if my eyes gleamed, my mouth twitching into a smile. It all felt so fresh, so good, so green! I loved every second of my little on foot road trip. The sun was shining brightly, hitting my face from in between the trees. The gentle ripple, the cheery chirping, it all blended into a beautiful sonata I never got tired of… But the best part was the flowers. All those daisies, waiting for me to smell them, to sing them and to pick them up. The smell of berries, cotton and dried poppy tears accompanied the warm air. It was literally and figuratively a heaven in hiding. For some reason, I stopped. I wish mom was here. I wish dad was here. I wish they were both here. Why aren’t they here, why did mom leave? In just a few seconds everything fell apart and I didn’t know why. I could feel a line forming in between my brows and my eyes welling up. What kind of fairy tale is this?! All I have to do now is wait for Prince Charming to come and wipe away my tears and live happily ever after, right? Although it wasn’t a prince who wiped my tears, a princess sure made me smile. Her giggle was the first thing I heard. Then a sweet melody followed. It was soothing. It was pretty. My feet moved on their own as if I was attracted by a magnet, but it’s not like I wanted to stop either.

   Soon enough, as the melody continued, I stopped in front of a small glade, right at the mouth of a thin, sparkling waterfall shielded by green, musty rocks and a bed of flowers. A bed of daisies, to be precise. Though the princess standing in front of me caught my attention faster than I’d like to admit. She was wearing a white, supposedly strapless, dress covered by a dark green cloak, hiding half of her grinning smile and cherry cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with joy while she sang the group of bunnies a serenade. I blinked. Once, twice, thrice, yet I still couldn’t believe my eyes. So now magical princesses really exist? How and why wasn’t I informed?! My gracious steps were unfortunately futile as I stepped on a twig, scaring the small animals in the process. Before I could scare her away though, I tripped over my own feet, completely ruining the flowers underneath me.

“Oh God, are you ok?” the sweet smell of daisies filled my nostrils, making me feel more conscious than ever. I just royally screwed myself over in front of a very beautiful girl in the span of one minute. “Yeah, don’t worry.” I managed to answer with my face buried deep into the ground. The ground was nice. The ground didn’t have starry eyes and rosy cheeks. The ground also didn’t have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard, nor did it have hands that lifted my face gently, forcing me to support myself on my muddy forearms. 

“You don’t seem fine to me.” it’s official, I’m dead. That has to be the only plausible explanation as to why was this happening to me. It’s normal for kids to have crushes, but this? This was ridiculous. I didn’t know what to feel. Could someone this pretty be dangerous? What kind of question is that? Of course, they can! The sudden realization made my heart pound and face pale instantly.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” I let out the breath I was apparently holding. “... Too hard that is.” in that exact moment, my whole face scrunched up in fear.

[courtorderedcake]

Hi! Thanks for tagging me in the WiP game. Your titles look quite interesting. Im curious about: A Crown of Buttercups, A Curse of Wings. Is it an EF AU?

Is it an EF AU?

Not exactly. 

This piece was written as part of my HALLOW anthology series that I originally intended to post for CSSNS, but ended up leaving on the back burner due to work, life, and stress. It is a retelling of the Six Swans from fairytale lore, where Emma is the singled out child tasked with the curse of breaking the curse on her siblings. 

An excerpt from my outline :

The only way to save them is to sew six shirts of buttercups (ORIGINALLY ASTERS) over six years without speaking. She sings instead.She climbs into a tree in the forest and begins to knit/craft these shirts together. ((Goes to a tree or meadow everyday to knit?))One day, the king of this kingdom ((Killian)) is hunting in the forest. His hunters find the girl in the tree and ask her who she is.  ((Maybe instead, he courts her? And visits everyday, much to her annoyance?)) 

((Family: August, Robin, Snow, Ruby, Will, Merida )) ((Henry as the son or possibly a fae counterpart, page?))

((Royalty: Killian, Liam (dead), Cora as the Evil Queen (killed the Queen/Liam to usurp the throne), David, Jefferson, Graham = Hunters, Belle as Emma’s handmaiden, Mulan as her guard, Princess Regina as Killian’s close (And jealous) childhood friend who eventually warms to Emma. ))

EXCERPT I: Intro

Once upon a time, as so many stories begin, there was a man and his wife who loved each other very much. They could not have their own children, much to their deep regret, and set to living in the deep woods to live a quiet life. Every evening they’d walk together hand in hand, a tried and true path through the wood and around the streams and ponds that unseen creatures called home. The couple knew the woods were as old as time, and respected them as such; they left gifts of sweets, bread, and any other offerings they could spare.

The wrath of the wood and what lived within was not a kind.

One night, as evening fell with its profound grace, they returned to their cabin to find a wailing child on their step. Pale as milk and beautiful, they took him in as their own. When it happened again after 2 years, their beautiful son toddling along the path to the squall of another child, they celebrated further. The husband was so overjoyed that he built on to the small house, and the wife extended her garden. They left more gifts to appease those in the wood.

Another child, and another, and another and then one more appeared at their door and their house grew with the many smiling faces they raised. Though they did not suckle at the woman’s breast, she was there’s in everything but blood. She would fight for her children to a bitter end.

On the full moon that rose over the summer swell, the wife felt the sharp pain of labor in her back, her body bowing to its need to push. Her husband and her surprise at the child that had grown unknown in her belly caught them unaware as they tried to keep both baby and mother alive. There was only one survivor.

The baby was a beautiful child, a girl with bright eyes the color of moss and clover.

The husband buried his wife, becoming the father.

His family became his world, watching his children grow into beautiful children, and then almost adults. The children would soon have to leave the nest. On their long evening walk, the Father made a wish most Fathers make:

I wish my children would not leave the nest.

The wood listens. The wood and those within it listen well.

They returned to their home, all but one falling asleep. The youngest child climbed high, out of the loft and the haphazard but cozy add ons of their home, out into fresh air and a blanket of midnight silk and twinkling diamonds. She sat and watched like she liked to, the quiet blissful and serene. It was hard being the youngest in some ways, the small voice under the loud cacophony of her siblings.

She heard them even now, their shouts breaking the silence. Something was wrong.

She climbed back down into the house, down to where her siblings and father were yelling and light was shining brighter than any candle.

A woman stood, wings spread and body swathed in spider silk. Her voice boomed through the house like thunder and the light pulsed brighter.

“Your wish has been granted, they will remain.”“NO! No this is not what I meant!” The Father cried, but the gift had been given, the children given by fae taking fae form. The woman looked at him with bewilderment.

“You do not like my gift? Is this not what you wished for?”

“No, I wish there was a way to fix this!”

“A gift given cannot be undone by the giver. And you are the one who wished it.”

The youngest child, with bright green eyes and golden hair, jumped from her perch to stand before the woman. She was without fear, brash fury and courage.

“You were silent as a mouse, little one! To you I will give this task, but be warned, to take back my gift for siblings 6 will take great effort.”

The child did not falter, her eyes gleaming emeralds.

“Then you, little one, quiet swan on still waters, you will be silent, unless in song, until my gift is returned.”

The child felt something taken from her, and she grasped her throat. No sound came out when she opened her mouth.

“My sweet soundless child, your task is not done. To save your siblings from their fate, you must sew them garments of buttercups. You must swim in my spring with a stranger to you. Finally, you must dance with every full blue moon.”

A bright glow filled the room once more, a buttercup appearing on the child’s wrist.

The winged woman disappeared in a silver mist.

And so a gift was given, or a curse was cast, the tasks set to return her siblings to normal. For only at night did they retain a semblance of their human form, in the day’s sun they flew.

So she sewed. Buttercup after buttercup sewn into small rows,held tight with soft thread. Days went by as she weaved yellow flowers together in silence, only broken in the still of the night, when her family changed to their true forms. Their Father passed, filled with guilt over his mistake. They did all to assure him he was forgiven and loved. Pain filled their house for many months.

One night she found that she could sing and started humming to her family’s delight. In the lonely sunshine of the next day, she raised her voice, surrounding herself in songs that her father had sang to her, and her mother had sung before that. Days turned into months, months turned into years, with only a shirt and a half to show for it.

Her family changed. They all grew taller, with skin the color of cream and pale cheeks with the slightest blush. The girls were full of grace, a soft sway in their movements now. The boys grew unafraid and brash, used to fighting air currents and diving into dark waters to bring Emma gifts. They learned languages from different cultures, observed storytellers in markets, saw new foods being made, and listened to lectures in the monasteries on the sciences.

There were more somber silences as they discussed a future, but they told Emma stories of their flights over the many lands she could not see. Over time, her silence became a language they could understand, her looks or dismissive body language a code they easily cracked.

Occasionally, Emma would find her fingers bleeding or her eyes tired from making minute stitches. Her siblings would fuss over her.

“Emma,” Snow whispered, quietly rubbing a salve Will had made on her bleeding fingers. ”You don’t have to do this. You could go live your life, we would understand.”

Emma sighed, and gave her a look. I’d never do that. You are my family, and this is my home.

Emma changed. Gone was the girl. She grew taller, her hair flowed out in sun bleached strands of gold. Her days spent sewing under the canopy of the forest left her subtly kissed with peach, in contrast to her pale siblings. She was lean muscle, quiet, serious, focused drive, with one goal in sight: Save her family.

EXCERPT II :

Prince Killian hated hunting. He went out of duty and tradition, but found himself bored the entire time. This trip was an exception, however. With his closest friends in tow, he was heading out to celebrate his last days of freedom before meeting his betrothed and his coronation. The forest that sprawled across the west of his kingdom was full of life: deer, rabbits, pheasant, grouse, wild turkeys, boar, and other various game animals. They were relatively untouched in the old woods, the animals fattened and unaware of the threat of hunters. Not only was hunting not a challenge, but it felt almost too easy.

He was joined by David, one of his very good friends and a lord of Southernmost Barrens; Jefferson, a court musician well known for his flamboyant nature; and Graham, a friend of Killian’s for years who was one of the best hunters the land was blessed with. Only Graham and David seemed excited by the prospect of catching anything. Jefferson was content to enjoy fine wine and get away from the ladies of the court, and Killian… the only consolation of this excursion was a reprieve from castle life, and his step mother.

After his brute of a father’s sudden death, peace had been held by his brother, Liam. When Liam had died unexpectedly, Killian had been given the crown, but being unmarried, the Queen Mother helped him rule with an iron fist. A few weeks away from her and her revulsion for commoners felt well deserved.

He held his face up to the forest sky, it’s green leaves creating a canopy over them, and leaned back in the saddle. It was warm out, an early spring after a cold and long winter. Color was a welcome relief to his eyes. They came to a small glen where towering oaks broke to shower a glade with sunlight. They were deep in the forest, the trees ancient and tall. When his mother was alive, she had warned him this was the type of place the Wee Folk hid, witches lived, and the spirits of the wood moved between realms.

“Here looks good,” David said, hopping off his mount. There were some low lying berry bushes, a small stream, and a dogwood that dropped petals like snow. They undid the saddle bags of their horses, stretching after the ride. After a camp was roughly set, they separated, drawing their bows and arrows. They would meet back in the clearing after a successful hunt, or if unsuccessful would gather firewood, water, mushrooms, sweet onion, or young shoots to use later. Graham was insistent that no hunt or trek was truly unsuccessful. Killian set off following the stream as it widened into a creek.

He hadn’t walked long before he heard it. A song lilting on the breeze, rustling through boughs and thicket. The beautiful tune was not familiar to his ears; sad and mournful, but somehow full of hope. Following the melody to a small pond the creek emptied into, sunlight gleamed and sparkled off of its surface, and the tune mixed with the babble of the water took his breath away. He could vaguely make out the words:

‘Fire, earth, water, air,I did have 6 siblings fair,now they glide through the sky,and left all alone am I’

Stepping closer to the water, the song stopped abruptly.

Looking around he could find no source of the beautiful music. A siren or fae creature, maybe? He began to wash his face in the pond, one hand reaching for a dagger in his boot. If a creature hunted him he was prepared. As he touched the handle a flicker of movement caught his eye on the water’s surface. Killian was shocked to see green eyes and a tangle of blonde hair in the reflection of the crystal pool staring at him. He turned, staring at the blonde woman holding a bundle of buttercups, her lithe form almost entirely concealed by the canopy of the tree.

They stared at each other and she tensed, curling her body into the tree with her head peeking out to watch him warily.

”Who are you?”

She didn’t answer and simply stared at him with eyes the color of the forest.

“What are you doing here?” He had to be hallucinating, or this was a Fae creature using it’s beauty to trick him or steal his soul. He continued to press her, knowing Fae were compelled to answer. “Are you all right?”

Her gaze blew through him, a flicker of something in her face as she cocked her head slowly to the right. Killian’s mother had told him Fae were compelled to answer riddles, should he ever need to face one.

“No one can see me or catch me in their palms. I spread the noisy sound of my voice quickly through the world; I can break to pieces the oak with my loud, crashing strength, as I beat against the high poles of the sky and traverse the fields.” He said, reciting from memory his tutor’s favorite riddle. The woman looked confused for a short moment, then narrowed her eyes. She stepped back, completely covered by leaves and out of sight.

Killian shouted after her, “Wait! I’m sorry -” Shock radiated through him as he watched her swing her body easily to a higher branch, staring down at him from her perch.

Her silence chilled him. She shifted, letting her legs hang, her dress far shorter than he was used to in the courts. He could feel his face flush. She tugged at the hem when she saw where his gaze fell, and her face and chest flushed pink. She looked away from him, chewing her lip.

”Do you need help getting down…?” That caused her gaze to snap back at him, and she shook her head no furiously. She opened her mouth to say something, but after a long pause, pursed her lips with a sigh. He moved under the tree, his hand pressed against the bark. She was still far above him, but he could see her well worn dress was a faded jade, bleached to mint. It was decades out of fashion, and looked to be made for a child. Her hair was tangled gold with curls springing wildly.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said softly.

She gave him a sad, pleading look, and made a shooing motion. Her face almost looked pained.

”Can’t you speak?” Her gaze was green fire, sunlight through a piece of sea glass. She shook her head no, and glared at him. “Alright, look, I’ll leave you be then. I just… We’re staying in the clearing over at the mouth of the stream. If you want to be left alone, stay clear of us. We’ll give you a wide berth.”

Her face softened, and she cocked her head to the side again, moving forward. He watched her slowly climb down the tree, until she stood only a few feet in front of him.

“I’m…” He hesitated. She would know who he was if he said his name. “Jones.” He said reaching out a hand. She didn’t take it, and shrank away at his movement. He noticed that she clutched a garment made of flowers to her protectively. Maybe she was one of the Drue, or a Nymph?

EXCERPT III :

David stood as she stepped into the moonlight. Her eyes flashed under a shock of long brown hair dusted in silver, and a white slip of a gown stuck to her body. A flash of silver shined in her hand, as two tall men crept out of the wood to support her. They were all graceful in their movements, gliding towards him. David began to believe he was dreaming as they glistened, somehow dusted in silvers and opalescent mother of pearl on their skin and hair.The point of a dagger rested under his chin, the stunning woman before him staring up at him.

“You owe a debt to me. Help me. I need medicine.” Her voice was lilting, and he felt his mouth go dry as long lashed eyes glinted blue green. David’s heart skipped, and he remembered Killian’s words in shock.

“Who… Who are you?” it came out in a stutter. She smiled, and the men behind her shifted uncomfortably.

“Call me… Blanche.” she whispered, lowering the dagger and cocking her head slightly. “It’s nice to finally meet you David.”

His name from her lips electrified him, and he understood. He would do anything for this woman.

She extended a hand, and he took it with wonder.

As she lead him away, he didn’t notice her companions move towards their palace.

[starshineskyandthepowerofrock]

A Princess and a Vampire Walk into a Closet

Part 11 of Starshine, Sky, and the Power of Rock.

Gossamer and I shove through the principal's office door at the same time.

"I am not camping with her!" we both say, pointing at each other.

Sunshine casually stirs a spoonful of honey into a dainty little teacup, not looking up. "What makes you say that?"

I try to get the first word in but Gossamer steps in front of me to say, "Your Majesty, with all due respect, do you honestly trust a vampire left alone in the middle of the forest with a defenseless student to not try anything?"

"I'd hardly call you defenseless when you have your Soul Player, Ms. Glade" Sunshine says. "We'll go over how to use them this week so you'll be ready come Saturday."

Gossamer whimpers, not wanting to go too far in front of a queen. "Okay, scratch the 'defenseless' part, but my point still stands."

Sunshine finally looks up, her expression more inquisitive than anything. "What has Ms. Acdalur done to make you feel unsafe around her?"

"Well, for one, she-"

"Nothing," I say. "I have done nothing to her. Or anyone."

Gossamer scoffs. "Tell that to the princess you put in mortal danger."

"You know I didn't mean to get her in trouble. Plus that was, like, a month ago. How are you not past that?"

"Well, sorry if almost getting people killed is normal for monsters, but here in civilized society-"

"Why does everything come back to monsters with you?"

"It's a little hard to ignore when I have to go to bed every night hoping I won't wake up the next day with half my blood gone."

"As if I want your blood-"

"Cupcake or cinnamon roll?" Sunshine interrupts.

Gossamer and I exchange puzzled looks. "What?" we say.

Sunshine rolls her desk chair over to a keyboard set up against the wall. She plays a short tune and a tray materializes on her desk, vanilla cupcakes topped with yellow frosting butterflies on one side and fresh cinnamon rolls dripping with icing on the other. Our mouths water despite our confusion.

"Both of you, sit down," Sunshine says. "Ms. Acdalur, choose a pastry."

"How come she gets one?" Gossamer whines but Sunshine puts up a silencing hand before prompting me to pick one. I take a cinnamon roll and sit myself down in one of her big, squishy chairs.

"Ms. Acdalur, you are going to eat silently while Ms. Glade explains herself. We'll reverse things once it's your turn to speak."

I'm a little less interested in the cinnamon roll now that I know it's a glorified pacifier but the warm, sugary smell draws me back in. Next thing I know my mouth is full of soft, cinnamon goodness and Gossamer's is full of bile.

"Your Majesty, if you want proof that Skylar isn't to be trusted, you need only remember what she is," Gossamer starts. "Now, I've done my fair share of research on monsters. Vampires in particular, actually, and I know them to be morally bankrupt. Cunning, but soulless. They're just animated corpses that put on a very convincing act. They draw you in until you think they're your friend, and then they strike."

"Is that what your daddy told you?" I can't help saying through a mouthful of pastry.

Sunshine gives me a warning look. "And you think this will happen on your retreat?" she asks.

Gossamer nods. "Precisely."

"Interesting," Sunshine says, pretending to consider this. "But surely that can't be said about all vampires, right? What if assumptions were thrown at you over something you can't control?"

Gossamer opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it. Closes it again. "I suppose that would be unfair," she says. "But... but that's different."

"How so?" Sunshine asks.

"Well..." Gossamer struggles to come up with something to support her stupid argument. "Well, look at her!" she says, pointing at me. "That's a false equivalence! We're not talking about elves, we're talking about vampires! That's totally different!"

"This isn't going anywhere, can it be my turn?" I say after licking the icing off my fingers.

Sunshine looks at Gossamer, then nods towards the tray. Gossamer huffs, grabs a cupcake, and tears into it the way she'd probably like to tear into me.

"I just don't wanna be stuck with that for a whole day," I say, nodding to Gossamer.

"Oh! So, I'm concerned with making it through the night, and you're concerned with being with the annoying girl!" Gossamer says.

"Eat your cupcake," Sunshine says. Gossamer obeys.

I continue, "Plus I'm not from here. I don't know what the... What did you call it? Serpent-something..."

"Serpentine Forest," Sunshine says.

"Yeah I've never heard of that. I'd rather figure that out with someone who won't be nagging me the whole time. Like Star."

Sunshine nods. "I see. Well, I do agree that my daughter will likely be a more patient teacher than Ms. Glade - no offense, dear - but that's why I specifically paired her with Ms. Waxing and Ms. Essence, who are both still getting used to their new centers of gravity. And I wouldn't call Ms. Glade a useless partner. Far from. The Serpentine Forest is actually in her home province, Hillside, so I'd say she knows it better than anyone else in your band. Coupling that with your camping experience, you two should make a wonderful team. After all, the point of the retreat is teamwork, right? Isn't that what you need in a band? And in a set of roommates?"

"Yeah, but..." Gossamer and I both say but neither of us can come up with a way to argue back.

Sunshine smiles. "You two will see. I have faith in both of you. Now, don't you girls have homework?"

💙💙💙

Now that we're done going over the basics in songwriting class Mr. Crystalline has made every band decide who in their group will be in charge of what. Our assignment due Monday is to write and record our first song for our band. Star performed Save the World for the other girls and they decided that'd be a good jumping-off point but the lyricist and composer would have to tweak it a bit to make sure everything gels since right now it shows that the lyrics and music started out as separate pieces.

Now I'm at the door to Star's room, guitar case in one hand and sheet music in the other, kicking myself for not expecting guards to be posted by the princess's bedroom.

"State your business," one says.

"Uh, Star and I have to work on an assignment."

"Likely story,"

"And a true one," Star says, opening the door. "She's good, boys. I invited her. Hi, Sky! Come in, come in!"

I didn't know bedrooms came this big. Her huge canopy bed barely takes up a quarter of the room. A writing desk sits to my left. A full-length mirror sits to my right. A balcony with glass double doors sits in front of me. And... Is that a karaoke machine? Attached to a mini stage? In her bedroom?

Everything is either in cool pastels or deep, dark blues and purples. And sparkly, everything is sparkly. At first I think it's glitter that everything is covered in but then I remember I'm in a princess's room and realize it's precious gems.

"So?" Star says. "You like my room?"

All I can muster is a faint chuckle.

Star smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."

It takes us all of 15 minutes to work out the the basic song's major kinks. It takes 15 more to decide on the harmonies and half of that time is spent debating whether or not we should make it five-part because that would mean Pearl would have to sing and we barely know what her speaking voice sounds like, let alone her singing voice. Hell, I've already got the arrangement in mind but we'll discuss that with the others tomorrow. I haven't worked this fast on a song in months. I guess having a partner helps. I never thought I'd be able to write a song with anyone other than... Ah crap.

"Sky? Are you okay?" Star says.

"Yeah I'm fine," I lie.

Star looks me deep in the eyes. "No, you're not." She closes her journal, makes me put down my guitar. "You keep snapping into these depressive moods. Like, all the time. What is it?"

I shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Girl, don't lie to me. Come on, spill! Talking about stuff always makes me feel better."

I try to scoot away from her spot on the rug but she scoots right to me. She rests her chin on my shoulder, sending the warmth from her living body into my cold, dead one.

"Uh..." She's making me nervous.

"Pleeeease?" she asks. She pleads with her eyes as much as she does with her voice. She looks desperate to help me. It makes me feel a little bad, honestly, worrying her like this. Bad enough to make me cave.

"I guess holding it in isn't helping," I sigh. Where do I even start with this? "Uh... Remember that werewolf guy?"

"The one that tried to kill you?"

My stomach turns inside out. "Yeah," I manage. "That guy. He... uh... He taught me everything I know."

Star sits up straight. "What!? H-how did that even happen?"

"Our families were friends. I knew him basically my whole life." I feel like I'm gonna puke just talking about him but I keep going. "He got me into rock. Into guitar. It made me feel like... I don't know... like I amounted to something. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up."

"Sky..."

I distantly realize my voice is raising. "I thought The Band of Darkness was protecting our kingdom. I thought he was protecting our kingdom and I wanted to do the same. I was gonna be just like him."

"Sky?"

"He was my best friend. No, he was like- he was like a-a brother, and-"

"Skylar!" Star grabs me by the shoulders. She looks me dead in the eyes, filled with sorrow, wanting to understand.

Oh no my eyes are stinging. I break free from her grip and turn away, move to the other side of the room if I have to.

"Sky! Sky, no, I'm so sorry for prying!" Star says.

"It's fine," I croak. I wipe at my eyes until the lids are raw. Star's arms wrap around me, pull me into a tight hug. Her heart beats against my silent chest.

"I'm here for you, girl."

I think about responding but if any sound comes out of my mouth it's gonna lead to crying.

"You have real friends now," Star says. "I promise, I'll never try to hurt you or turn out to be evil or something. In fact... hold on, I'm gonna cheer you up!" She lets go and runs over to a big wardrobe. Or well... I thought the outside looked big but when she opens it I see the inside is gigantic. The wardrobe opens into a walk-in closet that's even bigger than her bedroom!

She grabs me by the hands and guides me inside. "Come in!"

Rows and rows of clothes hang on the walls, hyper-organized by color and type and length and fabric and probably other stuff I can't pick up on. There's a shelf taller than either of us just for shoes and another just for tiaras. Before, I'd been surprised that her room didn't have a vanity since she loves makeup so much but now I see that's because her vanity is in here and boy is it ever loaded with the stuff.

The shock makes me forget my sorrow for the time being. "How... How is this..."

"I can't really give you the physics on how all this fits in my wardrobe, but I call it the 'bigger on the inside' spell. We use it all over the palace. It's how we managed to fit a whole boarding school and military base inside without the outside building blocking out the sun wherever it goes."

"Whoa..." is all I can say. I've been shocked by a lot of the Land of Light's technology over the past month. Machines that wash and dry clothes for you, little boxes you just stick food inside to reheat, moving pictures you can watch on screens. Where I'm from you have to be pretty rich to get stuff like that yet the kids here act like that stuff is totally normal. But this... This can't be normal anywhere. "Where do you even get all these clothes?" I ask her.

"Oh, the nicer pieces come from my tailors," she says like tailors are something anyone has. "But a lot of it comes from shops all over the kingdom. It's one of the perks that comes with always moving around!"

"So..." I say, picking up a glittery pair of shoes. "Where are these from, then?"

"Ah..." Star says, ears flattening. "Careful with those, they're a gift."

I put them back gently. "Gift, huh? From who?"

Star gives a coy smile. "An admirer."

"Admirer?"

"Mm hm. I forget which one, it's hard to keep track of them all."

Wow. We really are from different worlds. "I can't imagine having your problems..."

Star frowns. "Sky, look, I know you're... not exactly the most popular kid at school, but that's no reason to let it get to you."

I snort. "That's easy to say when you're a gorgeous princess with a magical singing voice who's famous for something she hasn't done yet."

"You think I'm gorgeous?" Star asks, playing with her hair. "I-I mean, yeah, maybe I have it easy but-"

"But what? I'm a total freak no matter where I go." I'm suddenly aware of how small I am compared to this huge closet. I turn and there's a mirror in front of me. Everything around me sparkles, including Star. Everything is so colorful, full of life. Even my uniform. But not me. "Sometimes I think... I don't know... What am I even doing here?" Star comes up beside me. Flawless tan skin. Not a shiny hair out of place. A perfectly pressed princess next to an undead loser.

"There's no way," Star says.

"What?"

"There's no way the girl I saw spit in the face of the guy that was threatening her with an axe is this insecure."

"What? No, I'm not insecure," I say. "You think an insecure person would commit treason just to get into this school?"

"I think an insecure person would freeze up every time she has a crowd watching her and would call herself a total freak."

I sigh. "Okay, maybe I'm a little insecure..."

"Exactly. Which begs the question of why."

I give an empty chuckle. "You want the short version or..."

"Sky, come on."

I shake my head. "I don't know, it wasn't that bad until lately. I thought getting away from the Isle would... I don't know... I've just got a lot of baggage back there and..."

"Didn't you have friends?" she asks.

The answer almost hurts too much to give. "I, uh... It's... The weird quiet kid is an easy target..."

"What?"

I take off my blazer, roll up my right sleeve. I can't believe I'm doing this, but something about her brings my guard down. She just seems so sincere, somehow.

"See this?" I ask her, pointing to the scar down the top of my forearm. "Got that last year from someone who thought it'd be funny to see what the albino that kept getting kicked out of schools would do if he pushed her around enough. And this one?" I say, undoing the top buttons on my shirt and showing the four lines of scar tissue embedded in my chest, "Five years ago. I don't even remember how it got there but it was with a fork and it hurt real bad."

Star is horrified. "Oh my goodness, I had no idea!"

"Of course you didn't," I say, covering myself back up. "I'm not letting anyone see that."

I'm doing the last button on my blazer when I realize Star is weeping. "I'm so sorry," she sniffles. "If I had known-"

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I tell her. I pat her on the back and her whimpers stop. "My point is, I... I guess I just thought things would be better here. But it turns out I'm even more different here than I ever was back home. Even my roommate hates me."

Star doesn't know what to say for a moment. "What's so bad about being different?" she finally asks. "If anything, I'd say that's one of the coolest things about you."

"What?"

"No, really! I mean, you're really downplaying how big of a deal it is that you're the first monster to be a student here. I don't even know how you got your application in in the first place."

"Illegal magic may have been involved," I admit.

"And then you made it all the way across Saline Deep by yourself just because you wanted to do what was right."

"I did, didn't I?" I say. Obviously, I knew I'd done it, but it never struck me as amazing before. It was just what I had to do.

"The two of us battled the Band of Darkness on our first day of school and lived to tell the tale!"

"Yeah. Yeah, we did!"

Star puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in. "Girl, you're amazing! Anyone who doesn't see that isn't looking right!"

I smile for real. I notice she doesn't look down at my fangs this time like she's been doing this whole month.

"You know, as weird as it sounds, I actually felt a little insecure myself when I first became a princess," Star says. "It was really awkward, going from being a penniless orphan to being waited on hand and foot. I didn't feel like the prophetic paragon everyone said I'd become. But then I learned a little trick, which actually brings me to why I brought you in here in the first place." She heads over to what looks like a second wardrobe inside the one we're already in, but when she opens it the only thing inside it is countless pieces of sparkling jewelry. She picks up a necklace and walks back over to me.

"You're spoiled, you know that?" I say playfully.

Star flips her hair. "Oh, I'm well aware. Here, I went through a massive rainbow phase when I was thirteen before finally realizing it super clashed with my hair color. But on you, I think it'll look perfect." She holds up the long chain, a pale, rainbow-colored jewel cut in the shape of a heart hanging from it. "Don't worry, the chain isn't silver, it's platinum."

My eyebrows raise. "Platinum?"

"Well, I'm not giving you a necklace that'll burn your skin and gold is so tacky-"

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Because you need to learn a lesson about being comfy in your own skin."

"Isn't it supposed to be the inside that counts?"

Star scoffs. "Well, duh! Exactly! The way I see it, if the insides and outsides don't match, of course you're not gonna feel good about yourself. You're not seeing the best parts of you. And for most people, seeing is believing."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I use this..." she twirls, gesturing to the massive closet around her. "To turn my outer vessel into a mode of expression for my inner self."

I blink in confusion.

"I use fashion to express myself," she says. "I'm a beacon of hope, a shining star! That's why I wear so many sparklies! Not to get people to like me but because it represents me! And what's not to like about me?" She lovingly caresses a purple ring on her finger. "Amethyst has been out of style for years now and is only semiprecious but I still wear it because it's just so me! And if you ask me, no matter how many people say you're some scary creature of the night, this necklace will remind everyone you meet that behind those fangs is a beautiful heart."

"My heart doesn't work," I say.

"Your metaphorical heart, silly!" Star says. "Now, come here." She sits me at her vanity, moves my hair out of the way, and slips the necklace on me. Her warm fingers fiddle with the clasp on the back of my neck, tickling me. I fight the urge not to squirm from the feeling. She moves my hair back behind my shoulders. Frowns in concentration. Moves a bit in front again. Smooths my bangs. Ruffles them again. "There we go."

I try to see myself with fresh eyes. I see a vampire in a Royal Academy of Rock uniform. I see unkempt hair, falling on the shoulder pads of a pristine blazer. I see dark circles in a face I can admit is pretty symmetrical. I see the only set of fangs in this building. And underneath it I see a colorful, glittering heart. A paradox in the form of a person. I guess that is kinda cool.

Star smiles. "Looks like I'm not the only gorgeous girl in this room."

"What if no one agrees?"

"Well, that sounds like a them problem," Star says. We giggle.

I leave Star's room feeling a lot better than I did coming in. Not perfect by any stretch. But better. Definitely better.

But there's something still there. A darkness that won't leave.

[thespoilsofazeroth]

Strawberries and Mageroyal

What a week I’ve had! This has definitely been one of my most interesting Winter Veil celebrations, including that time that Crow got his horns stuck in that tree after sneaking a bit too much of Nana’s eggnog. Good times!

Like I said in my last entry, I decided to try and find that Elf that I met in Northrend, since I had promised him a cask of my newest brew. I ended up bringing two casks, as a Winter’s Veil gift, since they were so late in coming. That didn’t cause too many problems on the trip across the sea, since I’m a bona-fide war hero now! The Warchief told the Goblins that they have to give free rides to soldiers, even off-duty ones, which was nice of him. I don’t think the Goblins like it very much, though.

The voyage was mostly uneventful, even though I expected the whole airship to explode or catch fire or something at any moment. Luckily it didn’t, though I’m definitely going to go to Moonglade instead on the return trip. I’m not setting foot on another of those contraptions if I can help it!

The only Zepplin to the Eastern Kingdoms went to Tirisfal Glades. Even though I was sort of in a hurry, I took a quick detour to the ruins of Lordearon. It was really beautiful, in a sad kind of way. I had heard that the Forsaken live (is that the right word?) in the ruins, but I saw barely any of them. It’s a shame, I’ve also heard that their queen, Sylvanas, is rather pretty. Although technically pretty wasn’t the word that they used.

I managed to find a little town not too far from the ruins that had a flight master. I had to pay him almost three times the normal rate to get a second bat (for my casks) that was tied with a long lead to the first. At that point I was glad to pay though; I had seen more than my fill of the Forsaken.

The flight was easy going, for the most part. I’ve never really liked riding, the saddle chafes and my robe or skirt tends to ride up without me noticing. However, I foresaw this eventuality, and brought pants. I wasn’t about to give any passers-by underneath me a free show!

I landed just outside of Silvermoon right as dusk was falling. I decided to sleep out in the woods that night; the forests of Eversong are almost as legendary as Teldrassil, and I wanted to listen to what the trees had to say. It was even more beautiful than I’d imagined, but even more so in the morning sun. If I hadn’t had an errand to run, I could have spent weeks just wandering among the ancient groves.

I made sure to bathe well and comb my mane, since everything I’d ever heard about Silvermoon made it out to be really picky about that sort of stuff. I also brought Nana’s old feast-day dress, the one that her nana made, and some Mageroyal perfume that I made myself. I put it on just like Nana taught me: a dab under each ear, the insides of my wrists, and between my legs. I was never sure if that last one was a joke of her’s. She was cackling so hard when she said it, but just to be safe I always put it there anyway.

I got into the city without much trouble, by then I’m sure they’d gotten used to the rest of the Horde going in and out. It took much longer than I thought it would to find the Elf I was looking for though, no one I spoke to to ask for directions seemed to speak Orcish!

I finally tracked him down with a barely remembered last name: Winterwine. Apparently his parents own an Inn! I should’ve guessed, he always astounded me with how much he could drink, for such a little guy.

When I finally found the Inn, they were having a party, a Winter’s Veil party no less. I couldn’t believe my luck, I was already dressed up, and I had a cask of my best brew under each arm; I was ready to party!

When I entered, everyone got quiet for a minute. I guess they weren’t expecting anyone to bring their own beer, or something. I saw the Elf I had come all this way to see over by the bar, clearly not needing his gift. So I set the casks on the bar and asked the barkeep, a rather shy Death Knight, to tap them and let anyone have some who wanted some.

When I turned around and looked over the room, I saw that the Elf cutie that I wrote about back in Northrend was there too! She was over in a corner, away from the rest of the party-goers. I guessed that she didn’t want to be bothered, so I kept my distance. But I think she caught me staring more than once.

I decided that I needed something to occupy my attention, so I challenged the Elf I had originally come to see, Kelaniel, to a drinking competition! Obviously I emerged victorious, but he was a good sport about it. I think. My memory gets a little hazy after about the fifth or sixth mug.

I definitely remember dancing, and… the smell of strawberries. Other than that, it’s all a blank, until the morning. Earth Mother forgive me, the morning…

I woke up in a bed upstairs in the Inn, the cute Elf still asleep next to me. Her hair still smelled like strawberries. Both of our clothes were scattered around the room. It didn’t take too long to piece together how the night had ended.

I still don’t know exactly what happened. The Elf grabbed her clothes and left as soon as she woke up. I suppose it’s for the best. I’m going to have to keep that night a secret anyway; no bull, or at least no bull worth speaking of, could ever want me if they knew I had lain with an Elf.

I think I’m going to stay in Eversong for a while, try to clear my head before returning home. It’s my responsibility to make sure that the Blackfeather line is secure, and I can’t be distracted when I make my choice.

But still… I can’t get the scent of Strawberries out of my mind.

Dear Diary,

I know it has been quite some time since I have written here. Since Northrend, everyday life has seemed too mundane to note down. That was, until now.

My old classmate Aumary invited me to a Winter’s Veil party at a friend of hers. It was a lower-class affair, a room full of drunken singing and dancing. Still, watching drunk fools make idiots of themselves is preferable to Mother’s “little get-togethers,” as she calls them, any day of the week. I didn’t speak much with the proprietors, the Winterwines, but they seem friendly enough, and know enough to leave me be when I wish it. Aumary quickly disappeared into the crowd after we arrived, so I sought out an unoccupied booth to watch the party unfold.

For most of the night, all was more or less normal. The bartender caught my eye, a rather large and somber specimen with an unusual eye color. I spent enough time in Icecrown to recognize a Death Knight when I saw one, though I couldn’t for the life of me tell why he would be working in a place like this. Still, I made sure to keep my staff close, just in case.

About halfway through the night and my third glass glass of wine, things got a bit more interesting. Stooping through a doorway much too small for her, the object of many of my nightly fantasies joined the party unannounced, with what appeared to be some kind of barrel under each arm. Her entrance caused quite a stir; very few of the Sin’Dorei have been in the same room as a Tauren.

She looked different than she did in Northrend. She was wearing a rather old-looking dress that had obviously been patched many times in its lifetime. Her braids were a little longer, and her mane was less tangled. Her eyes were the same, though. Wide and thoughtful, they seemed to express what she was feeling better than the rest of her face. Once more the surprising feeling of longing hit me when I saw her; how can she elicit these feelings from me when we’ve only spoken a few words to each other?

I have no doubt that she recognized me as well, as I saw her look at me several times throughout the night. Despite my silent wishes, however, she remained at the far end of the room. Eventually she got into some kind of drinking competition with one of the patrons at the bar, a blue-haired man with a striking resemblance to the bartender. I could easily see her celebration when she won from across the room.

Most of the night continued normally from then on. There was one moment when she broke a table; apparently they weren’t built with a dancing Tauren in mind. As she was dusting herself off, she locked eyes with me, and seemed to remember I was there. She made her way over to my side of the room, with many Thalassian curses following her as she pushed people to the side.

I must confess that I had expected her to smell, well, like an animal. What I was not expecting was for a delicate perfume of Mageroyal to follow her across the room. She seemed to feel in some way very similar to how I feel, as she was clumsily making advances towards me, rather crude ones at that. I’m sure she thought she was very persuasive. She was obviously very drunk, and maybe I had a few more than was good for me, but my mind was clear, my training was good for that, at least.

No, my decision wasn’t influenced by the drink as much as the freedom I felt at that moment. I was out after dark, drinking in a place that my mother wouldn’t be caught within a hundred meters of, flirting with a member of what my father would call a “lesser race,” and I was having the time of my life. The draught of freedom goes to the head better than the strongest drink.

I paid for the room, and I took her upstairs. I could barely wait to even close the door. But by the stars, was it worth the wait. It was everything I’d fantasized about and more. She was so huge, and everywhere, and… she smelled like Mageroyal. I have no idea what she expected to happen when she got ready that morning, but if I had to guess she applied that perfume everywhere. I suppose it must have been coincidence, her wearing the scent of my favorite flower that night. There was no way she could have known, certainly.

Unfortunately, the vivid memories of that night proved too much for me when I awoke in the morning. I’m ashamed to say… that I ran out on her. I didn’t even speak a word to her.

I suppose she must hate me now, I certainly hate myself. I just wish I had a chance to talk to her, to explain, to…

The Innkeepers. She came to see them, they must know where I can find her. They’re going to tell me or I’ll bring their entire stinking Inn down around their ears.

Ravenwen holds herself on her hands and knees, closely examining the plant in front of her nose. The long, serrated leaves were spotted with red and turned completely red near the tip. From the stinging in her hand after she tried to pick it, as well as the shape of the leaves, she guessed it was some variety of thistle, though she had never seen any thistle with such unusual colors. Careful not to let her muzzle brush the leaves, she tilts her head to bring her eye closer to the unusual plant.

“We call it Bloodthistle.” Raven jumps, almost poking her eye on the edge of a leaf, as a sudden and unexpected voice calls out to her from behind. She looks around, chagrined that she had been so intent on examining the plant that she had completely missed the other’s approach.

Standing about five feet behind her was the cute Elf, the one from Northrend, and more recently, the party. Raven scrambles to her hooves, embarrassed that she had been caught bent over like that by the woman who had run out on her.

“What are you doing out here?” She indicates their surroundings with a large hand. They were deep in Eversong Woods, far from any settlements of Elf or Troll.

“Looking for you actually. Look, about the party-”

Raven interrupts, “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m sorry. We were both drunk, but it doesn’t excuse my actions. I put you in an impossible position, and you were entirely justified in running out before I could try and coerce you any further.” Val surprises her with a sudden peal of clear laughter.

“Coerce me? Is that what you remember? I took you to bed, you delightful idiot! If I hadn’t wanted you that night you’d still be standing frozen in that Inn!” Raven stares at Val, confused and perhaps a little hurt by her use of the word ‘idiot.’

“But then why did you-”

“Why did I run out?” Raven nods. “That’s a bit harder to explain, and that’s why I’m here. To apologize to you. It was wrong of me, we should have had this conversation that morning, and I’ve regretted it since I closed the door of that room behind me.”

“What conversation?” Val takes a breath and steels herself for the next words.

“I- I want to see you again.” Raven raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“What do you mean? You’re seeing me right now, aren’t you?” Val sighs in exasperation.

“No I mean-”

“What do you mean?” Val groans and strides forward. She grabs one of Raven’s low-hanging braids and yanks on it, pulling her face down the intervening feet to Val’s. She throws her arms around Raven’s thick neck, grabbing her mane for better purchase, and kisses her deeply on the mouth.

Raven surprises her then, by wrapping her thick arms around Val’s thin waist and straightening up, lifting Val into the air in the process. They both melt into the kiss, both of them exploring this brand new territory together.

Eventually Val pulls away for air. She leans her head on Raven’s broad shoulder, and plays with her mane with one hand.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Raven responds with a deep chuckle.

“I thought you might need a little ‘coercing.’ And didn’t you enjoy it?”

“Of course I did! Though I think I might snap in half if you keep holding me up like this.” Gently, Raven lowers Val until her feet touch the ground, then releases her grip on her waist.

“You could just ask next time you know. How would you like it if I pulled your hair?”

Val replies, “well, that depends, doesn’t it?” and prances away from the suddenly very confused Raven.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Raven pursues her through the woods, crashing through the golden sunlight after the laughing mage. Val, for her part, keeps the chase going as long as possible, blinking away just as Raven looks to catch her. Eventually, though, she seems to be just too slow, and Raven circles her muscled arm around her waist once more.

“Didn’t you say something about having a talk?” Val laughs and blows a loose curl out of her face.

“Of course! I was just hoping we could talk here.”

“Where…” The question dies in Raven’s throat as she looks around. They stand on the bank of a river, at the base of a tall, thin waterfall. In the distance, downriver from where they are, Raven can see a squat, round tower with flying staircases in the Silvermoon style.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Val nods.

“My brother used to bring me here to have picnics when I was a little girl. Recently I’ve been coming here to be alone, when I need to think.” She sits on the soft grass. Raven follows suit.

Val twirls a strand of her hair around her finger nervously, then finally says, “I’ve been wanting to ask…”

“Yes?”

“Was that… your first time?”

Raven heaves a sigh and leans back on her elbows. “Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“18, as of this past summer.”

“Really?” Raven looks at her out of the corner of her eyes.

“What?”

“It’s nothing- I thought you were older, that’s all. Turns out you’re the same age as me!”

“So you’re 18 as well?”

“Mhm, since last month.” Raven looks visibly relieved.

“Thank the Earth Mother.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I can never tell with Elves, you know? Sometimes I can’t tell if one’s 13 or 103.” Val throws her head back and laughs.

“So what, you were worried I was an old woman?”

“Or that you were a child.” Raven chuckles. “I’m not sure which would be worse, to be honest.”

‘Well you don’t have to worry about it, now do you?” Val smiles at Raven, who gives her a sad, weak smile in return.

“Yes… about that… I’m afraid the answer is no.”

“No?”

“No, I can’t keep seeing you.”

“Why not??”

Raven mentally sorts through the many possible reasons she has been using over the past few days to try and convince herself of this very thing. Finally, she settles for the inevitable heart of the matter.

“I have a duty to my clan; I must return to Thunder Bluff to find a mate and bear his children.”

“And why must you do this?”

Raven looks chagrined. “I’m the only woman capable of bearing children left in my clan.”

“What do you mean ‘left?’”

Raven tosses her head and snorts. “What does it matter? There’s no one left but me to do what has to be done.”

“And why does it have to be done?”

“I can’t let the clan die out.” Raven pushes herself to her hooves.

“Then what was all that back there?” Val waves her hand in the direction they had come.

“I got caught up in a fantasy. It was wrong of me, and unfair to you. I apologize.”

“Didn’t… didn’t our night together mean anything to you?” Raven looks at her with an uncharacteristically stony face.

“I don’t remember our night together, and it would be best if you forgot, too.”

Val jumps to her feet as tears start to stream down her face. She growls a word of power and stomps her foot on the ground, sending a shockwave of ice in all directions, freezing Raven’s hooves to the ground.

“I’ll never forget that night and neither will you.” Slowly at first, but gaining strength, Val begins to speak. She tells Raven everything that happened that night, how it made her feel, how it still makes her feel. She pours all of the longing she has been feeling ever since they first met in Northrend into her voice. So heartfelt are her words, and so intently does Raven listen, neither notices when the ice melts, freeing Raven’s hooves.

Raven stands with her back to Val for a long time after she finishes. So long, in fact, that Val began to worry she had gone too far.

“I really… mean that much you you?” Val almost jumps at the sudden break in the silence.

“What?”

“I mean enough to you, that you would disregard everything your parents ever told you… to be with me?”

“Yes.”

Raven falls silent again.

“How much do I mean to you?”

She looks back at Val, who is surprised to see massive, glistening tears running from the corners of her large eyes.

“More…” She stops and looks away, clearly uncertain of what she’s about to say.

“More what?”

“More than Duty.”

Val smiles, tears springing from her eyes once again. She walks to Raven’s side, and rests her hand on one huge forearm.

“We’ll be outcasts.” Val looks up at her lover and laughs at the statement.

“Good, I’m tired of high society.”

“What will our families think?”

“Who cares? Either they accept our love or they don’t. We don’t need their approval.”

“Love… I had given up on love.”

“I never believed in love, until I met you.” Raven takes Val’s hand in her own, the delicate, perfect fingers in her thick, calloused ones.

“So…” Val bites her lip and curls a strand of hair around a free finger.

“Yes?”

“You said I should just ask next time, right?”

Raven laughs, tears forgotten. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well, I’m asking.”

She turns towards Val and kneels, bringing her face down so its almost touching Val’s. Once again Val throws her arms around her neck, pulling herself into the soft fur and an even softer kiss. Raven replies by wrapping her own arms around Val’s shoulders and waist.

Eventually, Val once again has to come up for air. She wrinkles her nose.

“I liked how you smelled before better.”

Raven grins sheepishly. “I haven’t taken a bath today.” “Well we can’t be having that, I expect my lovers to be fresh and clean.”

“Well then let’s fix that, shall we?”

“We?” Val barely has time to ask before Raven hurls them both down the slope into the river.

Val pushes her way back up to the surface next to a laughing Raven.

“Now look what you’ve done, my clothes are all wet! And my hair! Ohhhhh do you know how long it took to learn the spell to make it perfect like that? Now I have to cast it all over again!”

At this, Raven starts to laugh even harder, to which Val responds by splashing at her.

“This is not funny!”

“You have to admit, it is a little funny.”

“Oughh… Fine, maybe it is. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for this.” She starts to swim towards shore, Raven following, slowly walking along the bottom. Val drags herself out of the water and shakes her arms, sending droplets everywhere.

“Oh great. And I’ve forgotten the spell for drying clothes. Wonderful.”

“Well it’s no good wearing wet clothes,” Raven replies, shaking her head to dry her mane somewhat. “It’s the middle of winter, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“I haven’t, but I’m not about to run about naked. Besides, that’s almost as bad as wet clothes.” Raven was already pulling her robe off over her head.

“And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly covered in a thick hide of hair.”

“No, but I am.” She pulls the robe off and hangs it on a tree branch to dry, showing off her simply-made undergarments and thick physique in the process.

“And how exactly does that help me?” Val is suddenly very unsure of where to look, so she determinedly looks off in the middle distance, with only a quick glance at Raven now and again.

“We find a nice sunny spot to lay down and I hold you close to keep you warm.”

Val blushes furiously. “This was your plan all along wasn’t it.”

“I’ll admit it. To be honest I want to see what you look like; I only got a brief glimpse when you ran out the door. Just call it payback for pulling my hair and making me chase you halfway across the forest.”

Still blushing tremendously, but unable to deny that she was starting to feel a chill set into her bones, Val awkwardly starts to fumble with the closures on her dress. Despite the chill, she can also feel a rising sense of anticipation. Lying on the grass in Raven’s arms did sound tremendously inviting. Finally, she released the last closure, and let her dress fall to the ground in a wet heap.

Whereas Raven is broad-shouldered and well built, with an ample amount of both fat and muscle lining her frame, Val is thin and lithe, a lack of muscle definition in her arms showing her easy lifestyle as well as her perfectly cared for hands and feet. They both found the other irresistible.

Raven gently takes Val’s dress and hangs it up next to her robe. “So shall we try and find a nice sunny spot?”

Val nods and draw close to Raven, hoping to draw some warmth from her bulk while they walked. It didn’t take long to find a secluded glade, with the clear winter sun shining through the gap in the overhead foliage.

Raven pulls away from Val and sits in the center of the glade, then holds her hand out for her to take.

“Wait… I want to show you something first. But you have to promise to… to do the same for me. Ok?”

Raven nods, confused but curious. Val steadies her breathing, and reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. She rotates her arms back around and lets it fall to the grass, before wiggling her underwear down to her ankles and stepping out of them. She stands, legs apart and hands on her hips, cold, blushing, and perhaps a little afraid that Raven wouldn’t like what she saw.

She had nothing to worry about. Wordlessly, Raven stands and pulls down the simple cloth wrap that serves to hold her breasts, catching her underwear with her thumbs in the process, leaving both garments tangled around her hooves. She steps over to Val, takes her in her arms, and together they fall into the soft grass, once again reminded of the sweet scent of strawberries and mageroyal.

I know it’s not technically the right season for Winter’s Veil stories, but it’s valentines day, so close enough! ~Mod Orky

[dmcracy]

Group 1.5 - Intermezzo - The seventh sin

Ilma űr Tamar is what remains from the vast ancient forest that once spread all across the western side of Neru. Many strange creatures found home in this forest thousands of years ago and some still remain in the shadows of ancient trees. Llthrae, Mína and Orik entered the shadowy, green smelling forest not knowing what awaits them. They traveled for hours until they reached the spot where two rivers connected, creating a much stronger third one. The last mighty river is called Nastasilef - crystal spear - and within its cold waters star sapphire Llthrae possessed began its story. But Llthrae found out about this only after they escaped the forest, so we will let it be for a while.

Above the river, a marvelous ruin stood in its broken glory. A ruin of once ancient hold of a mighty queen that now lay in mold and debris, slowly devoured by trees and flora around it. The adventurers entered its half broken gate and found a ghost of a child looking for her doll in the courtyard. After a brief conversation, Orik decided to cut a piece of his rope and made a little doll for the ghost girl. She did not like it and paid no mind to it because, at the same time Mína, took out the doll from the ghost in Slanterk from her bag doll from the ghost in Slanterkfrom her bag. The ghost girl rushed to her, snatched the doll and vanished. Puzzled by this event, the adventurers decided to venture forth and traversed a long lightless corridor. At its end, there was a grand door and murmur of people could be heard from the other side. They entered and found out that the room was filled with ghosts having a banquet. Above everything else, a throne made from great white tree stood and within its branches sat a pale, ghostly figure of breathtaking beauty. It was the ghost queen of this once powerful kingdom. A banshee. She asked what were they looking for and what they wanted. I had a little diplomacy game with her prepared. Players could get three keys from her for their quest. But when I started the game, mocking them as a banshee queen, Mína took the first key the queen offered and the group went away. The queen said for a few times that there are many locks and the key will open only first of them, but they did not care (in this session Llthrae was not present so maybe that was the reason). This is where this session ended and I felt dread because the dungeon below the queen was small and deadly in every way possible. In this time I still cared deeply for the fun and giggles of my players and cringed at every moment when some lethal danger appeared. 

The next session was with all three players in the entry room of the vaults. They had one key and an ancient mosaic to decipher in the circular room. The mosaic was depicting an unknown scenery with snowy mountains and one great star above the highest peak. 25 small keyholes were barely visible above the entire landscape. Some of the holes were just empty. Some of them were traps. One was a real death room with the deceased daughter of the banshee embedded in ice. One was an easter egg with a bearded guy with long hair wearing a t-shirt with some castle in a glass coffin. And one was with the treasure they needed. It took some time but to my astonishment (and with some railroading) Llthrae found the right keyhole. The part of the wall disappeared and vast cold darkness opened in front of him. Llthrae took the step in and I made him make an acrobatics check if he can catch the rim of the wall because there was no solid floor. And I found another lovely thing he was doing since then.

Immediately after I said “roll the check” he took back his decision. He argued that he did not word it properly and he did not want to enter really. This scared me at that time because I wanted my players to have fun. So I backed his point and then he gloriously poked the darkness with his stuff and showed us all how smart and wise wizard he is. Eventually, they found out that holding any source of light revealed a misty path 5 ft around them. They ventured forward and got to the point where they could see a large ancient tree enlightened by the moonlight few ft from them. But the catch was no mist was forming from that point on. They looked around and found out they were standing on the stone cylindrical pillar decorated with a large tree surrounded by elements of ice and fire. I do not remember exactly what happened here but after a few moments of desperation Orik sat on the ground bored and put his torch next to him. Suddenly a sound of shifting stones echoed through the air and stone stairs rose in front of them. They approached the tree and Llthrae started to shoot his Ray of frost around him to see if there were any other buttons or passages. A very wise decision to make in D&D since the days of Gygax.

The adventurers stood in front of the tree and Mína tried to take some of the seeds which were scattered around. The tree immediately punched her with a branch and grappled her. Llthrae with Orik tried to help and the tree eventually got calm. After that Mína got a glimpse of some other time by meditating under the tree. She saw an endless dusky realm of ice and snow, dragons flying around and strange dark-skinned, elf-like creatures living among them. So obviously she did not tell anything about it to the others and never thought about it again. So Orik grabbed the chest near the tree with the treasure they needed and they left. When they approached the banshee again, the banquet was gone. The only thing remaining was the ancient tree and a ghost of an elf sitting on it. And she was pissed because of their success. She claimed they cheated her and there was no possible way for them to succeed in her opinion and after a while fight began. The ghost of the girl from the begging of the dungeon helped them to distract the queen because the banshee cared for her. This was where Mína’s secret talent kicked in. Instead of fighting (because Mína hated fights) she tried to persuade the queen to give up. I made her roll persuasion. A critical. Realizing this could end up in another potentially awesome moment in this game, I played along. The queen cried out so loudly that the room quaked and she vanished with the ghost girl. I do not remember how my players reacted to it. But I loved it. For me, this was the spirit of D&D - to try things which are not on your sheet. I think they had no time to celebrate because the entire building was collapsing and they were running towards the light. The debris was falling so to keep it real I made them roll acrobatics checks to avoid falling stones. Everybody succeeded. Orik made it even more awesome by just jumping over the stone pillar. This was a real moment of joy for me. A real D&D experience.

At the end of the session, they escaped the crumbling building and entered the glade. Suddenly, an arrow swished around their ears. And another one. And a red-haired elf was running towards them. 

And on the other side of the mountains, a young halfling girl went to the forest to look for mushrooms.

[bellecreates]

It was two days before my eighteenth birthday. I sat at the table, the family compendium opened in front of me. Beside me, my mother sat, stitching my birthday dress. A pot of salve bubbled on the stove, and I could hear through the open window Lila's two girls playing in the afternoon sunlight. Giggles and playful shrieks broke the humming quiet as they dashed between the rows of herbs mother grew for her work. Hide and go seek, I supposed, distracted from my task by a vague wistfulness. I would be eighteen soon, old enough to take up the family business and work alongside my mother as a healer in the village. Old enough to swear the same oath all the women in my family swore.

My eyes returned back to the pages in front of me. There, in elegant writing, was an oath to Lurue, the Archfey queen. An oath to protect, and to heal. The oath my mother swore, and her mother before her. In this book lay the history of the women of my family, tracing all the way back to Amarya, the first priestess of Lurue. I may very well be the last of that line, my mother having lost track of her sisters long ago.

Every child born to my family was a girl, and every daughter was taken to the same forest glade seven days after their birth to be presented before the Queen. It was in that moonlight clearing I was given the name Gwendolyn, and to that moonlit clearing I would return on the night before my eighteenth birthday, to swear the oath my family had sworn time and time again.

It was optional, of course, the same way carrying on my mother's work would be optional. But the village needed a healer, and Lurue needed a priestess, and who was I to say no to either of them? I flipped the book to the cover, tracing the names of the women who came before me. My grandmother Elynda. My mother Katya. Soon my name would be written below hers.

My mother paused in her sewing, shaking out the near-completed white dress, needle clamped between her teeth. Her keen eyes sized up the stitches as she flexed her hand. She took the needle from her mouth, then paused, turning towards the stove as the smell of smoke filled the cottage.

It was not the stove that was burning, and both mother and I were on our feet before the first scream split the air.

“Get the children,” she hissed, pulling closed the shutters on the window as she reached for her hunting knife. “Get them inside, now.”

Our cottage was removed some from the main village, mother's work requiring privacy and a large garden. As I opened the door, I could see dark smoke in the distance along the far edge of the village. Perhaps it would be better to run. But with the girls, and mother's leg...I gathered the two stricken children and herded them inside, latching the door behind me.

By the time I turned around, mother had the cellar trap door pulled open, and had pulled a tapestry down off of the wall. She ushered the two girls to the ladder, then turned to me.

“No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, be silent. Stay in there until I come and get you. Protect the girls, no matter what happens.” She shushed my protestations, pressing a hand to my mouth as I realized she would not be joining us in the cellar. “It will look strange if the house is empty. These brigands will want food and supplies. No one is going to harm a healer. Now go!”

She placed a bundle into my hands and pushed my hair back from my face, kissing my forehead.

“I love you mother,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

“I love you too, my moonlight. Now go, before it's too late. And remember. Stay silent.”

Then it was down into the cool darkness of the root cellar. Barely had my foot touched the earth at the bottom of the ladder when the door swung shut, plunging us into a deep, black silence. Small rays of light filtered down beneath the floorboards, barely illuminating the two girls huddled amidst shelves of canned vegetables and salves, carrots and potatoes. I knew without seeing that my mother was spreading the tapestry over the cellar door and dragging the kitchen table over it - we had hidden away women from abusive husbands in this way before.

Brigitte and Laurel were both younger than I, the younger half my age. The elder, Brigitte, grabbed my hand as I knelt to the floor next to them. She had just seen her twelfth birthday. I had made her a lavender cake. It's funny the things you think when death shows up at your doorstep.

A banging above startled all of us. Brigitte's free hand covered her sister's mouth as our eyes met in silent prayer. Mother's voice, faintly, from above. Calm in spite of the chaos that brought destruction to our door. My ears strained to hear the conversation. Then the screaming began.

I couldn't tell you if she screamed for minutes, for hours, or for days. My heart strained against my chest as I pressed my lips together to hold back my own wails. Brigitte's nails dug into the flesh of my hand until blood ran. The pain centered me as we sat in the ground, helpless. My mind created a million ways in which I could fix this, save my mother, but not without risking the lives of the two girls I was now responsible for.

At long last, silence fell. We waited in the silence as I hoped against all odds for my mother to open the cellar door. The quiet was somehow worse than the screaming, our ragged breathing our only company.

After a long wait, I unfolded the bundle my mother had pressed into my hand before sending me down the cellar stairs. Folded in a bolt of cloth was the family grimoire, and my father's daggers. I drew one and tested the edge against the cloth, pleased when it cut through with ease. Wasn't that just like my mother? Father had been gone for years, but she still kept his daggers sharp, waiting for a day like today.

A hushing motion at the girls, and I was up the ladder, listening keenly for any movement beyond the door. When none came, I pushed at the trap door with my shoulder, drawn blade in my hand. I pushed again, hearing the scraping noise of the table moving free of the door's path. Another brief pause, then I opened the door and ascended.

Blinking in the light of the kitchen, I thought every dark thought my mind was capable of as I stared down at the body of my mother. The salve on the stove had burned, but even that could not cover the smell of blood and death. On the floor at her feet lay her hunting knife. On the table lay my birthday dress, spattered with red. It looked as if some attempt had been made to burn the house, scorch marks along the wall and roof, but the fireproof spells woven into the construction had held, sparing us the slow suffocation of being trapped beneath a burning house.

The front door lay slightly ajar, and I crossed the room quickly, peeking out beyond at the garden and village. There was no movement that I could see. Safe, but how many of us had survived?

I returned to the kitchen, and peeked my head down into the cellar. “I think they're gone. I'm going to check if anyone else needs help.” My eyes searched the kitchen and found a half-burned candle. I lit it with my flint and passed it down to Brigitte. “If I am not back by the time this burns out, make for the river tribe. Take the hunting paths, like we do for the midsummer festival.” I handed her the candle and my mother's knife. Before I left the house, I collected a sheet from the bedroom and draped it over my mother's body. I would spare the children that, if I could.

The village was silent in a way I had never experienced. It seemed as if even the distant birdsong was hushed. My feet found the paths I had walked every day, but even my footfalls were strange and foreign to me. In house after house, I found only death. Death, destruction, and no answers.

We were not a rich town. We had little but our hunting, our houses and our lives. Many of the houses were charred husks, and those that stood looked ransacked but not looted. Thinking of the two girls I had left behind, my feet wound their way back to Lila's house.

I found them before I made it to the house. Lila and her husband Ren, dead along the path. Why hadn't they fled to the safety of their house? Why hadn't they run? My heart thudded with the answer. They had been looking for the girls. Lila would never have left without them.

“I will keep them safe, Lila,” I found myself promising her blank staring eyes. “I promise.”

I took almost nothing from the house. What do you take when tragedy has already destroyed everything? A favorite doll? Your wooden toys? There was no childhood left for these girls, young as they were. We had all left that behind in the cellar's darkness. I took the quilt off the bed, one that Lila had spent long summer nights sewing. If we had time, we could come back for more. If we had strength, we would bury our dead.

I returned to the cottage, and already it was no longer home. I found my hunting pack under my bed and began to fill it with what necessities I could find. Provisions, water, salves. The gold Mother took to market for supplies. The dress my mother had made me. The family grimoire. I filled Mother's pack for the girls with food and water, their mother's blanket on top.

Thus prepared, I returned to the kitchen and pulled open the hatch. A flash of silver was my only warning, and I caught Brigitte's elbow as she lashed out. Her eyes were dark, but softened as she recognized me. She sheathed the knife and took the pack I handed her. The blanket on top answered the question she could not ask. She took her sister's hand and mine and together we left the village.

We made our way in the dusk through the hunting trails. I did not know for sure how far this path of destruction had fallen. Perhaps there was no safety to retreat to. The lives of the two girls beside me weighed me as we headed for the river tribe.

After such heavy silence, the sounds of people, of living, rang out like a bell. As we approached the village, we began to hear talking, laughing, playing. They had not seen the same darkness. They did not share our fate.

We found shelter with a woman named Tanya, whose children my mother had delivered. She had two of her own, a son and a daughter. She would keep the girls if I could supply some means of keeping them fed.

The next day was spent in somber necessities. I returned to my village with men from the river tribe. We salvaged what we could and dug graves along the edge of the woods. I had heard of no other survivors, and the river tribe had seen nothing of the men who had taken my village.

As night fell, I bid the girls farewell and donned the dress my mother had made for me, and the daggers my father once carried. My path, dimly lit by the half Moon above, was clear. I was off to the heart of the forest, to the glade of Lurue. I found my way to the center of the clearing, and fell to my knees.

Eyes closed, I knelt there in the dark and damp. It was mere moments before I could hear Her hooves approaching, as if she had been waiting for me. I felt the warmth of her muzzle above my head, her breath blowing against my hair. There were words to be spoken. Words every woman in my family had spoken time and time again in this blessed glade, beneath a moonlit sky.

“Blessed Lurue, Queen of the Archfey, healer, mother, goddess. I swear my fealty to you.” 

The words ran dry.

“Goddess, please. I have lost everything. My mother has been taken from me. She served you many years. I cannot promise to only use your power to heal, as she did, as my ancestors did. Instead I come to beg you for the blessing of your fury. Let me right this wrong. Let me save others from this pain. Grant me this, and I swear to serve you until the end of my days.”

My heart wrenched as I knelt, a lost child before her Goddess, at the end of all things. Never daring to hope the answer would be yes, but not knowing what I would do if it wasn't.

“This I will grant you,” she said at last, “And I will see it done this very night.” Her voice was a whisper, but in it was the echo of my mother, of my grandmother. I felt the cool press of her horn against my forehead as power surged within me, yearning to be freed.

Aunt Selena had told me once that even the great Oberon feared Lurue when she went to battle - slow to anger, but fiercer than any warrior when her children were in need. I don't know if that is true. All I know is that she rode with me that night while I tracked the men who had slaughtered my village. And her horn was as red as my blades as we left not a single man alive.

At the end of it all, I woke alone in the clearing in the woods, wrapped in a woven blanket and covered in blood that was not mine.

If I ever bring a child into this accursed world, I will bring her back to that clearing in the woods and pray she can swear the oath of my mother, of my grandmother - to heal, to protect, to live. But until then, I will use the fury granted to me. To right wrongs. To protect those who cannot protect themselves.

[bloodofthedivine]

Sacrifice; Chapter 2

 🦌I recommend listening to some Elven Music while reading this and the next chapters to come <3

•Sacrifice Playlist (Spotify)

• Sacrifice Playlist (YouTube)

Fandom: Works by J.R.R Tolkien (Set far after the events in Lord of The Rings.)

Pairing: Hyríl Duvain (Elven Queen) x Reader (Farrien)

Tags: Angst, comfort, bonding, fluff, marriage, wives, lesbian pairing, arranged marriage, war, blood, sex.

Summary: As the daughter of King Elessar Telcontar (Aragorn) it is your duty to keep the alliance between Men and Elves. But you would have never expected to be chosen by the last Elven Queen of Middle Earth. What will fate bring you as you enter a new life with a wife you barely know?

🦄 The song Hyríl sings is by J.RR Tolkien, I claim no credit for this song or lyrics. It's called, "The song of Beren and Lúthien".

Chapter 1

                Copyright © 2018 by B.Nyx

The next day was cooler, the trees growing thicker by the hour. There was a small path through the dense trees, elven lamps were hanging in the branches every so often, it seemed you were getting closer to her land. Hyríl's horse trots beside yours, biting your lip you ask, “Hyríl?”

Her face turns to yours, motioning you to continue with a nod.

“What is your home like?��� You inquire.

Her face morphs into a smile, she seemed happy to tell you about her home. “Aneserine?”

She answers, eyes looking to the trees as she thought for a moment, “Aneserine is.. magical. I do not know if you have seen an Elven city before, but it's as if you live in the midst of nature itself.

Animals walk wild around the palace, nature blooming just outside your room. My palace is made from trees, as if it's woven into the ground. But it looks like magic to others’ eyes. And I suppose it is... At night the dark lights up with Elven lamps, it almost resembles the night stars…” eyes lowering as she stops speaking.

“Hyríl?” You ask in concern.

She doesn't answer, just looks toward the forest again, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Your nails dug into your reins, angry at yourself for making her upset. “I-I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you.”

She shakes her head, “You did not Arivae. I was gone for a moment, remembering my kin. We are one of the last two Kingdoms that's left on Middle Earth Farrien, we must stay here to keep our legacy going. If not, our kind will die out.”

You frown, it seems she had duties to her people as well, “I am sorry, I did not realize.” Looking down to pat your horse for comfort.

“We all must do things for our people, as you have already Farrien. Do not despair, my people will one day see the shores of Valinor once more.” Eyes lighting up as she reassures you both.

You were glad she was sympathetic to your feelings, she realized what you were going through. No doubt living so long gave her years of experience.

Soon the sun began to set, an opening appeared through the trees. A soft singing began to reverberate through the forest, you look to Hyríl for questions. She nods her head toward the opening of the trees, beckoning her horse forward with a smile.

She races ahead with almost a childlike Revere. Smiling, you motion your horse to run and follow her, the forest opens up to show your new home before you. A gasp escapes you as you take everything in.

Hyríl was right, it was magical. Soft voices murmur around you, elves bowing and welcoming their Queen home. Her horse trots in front of you, leading you through the people. Small elven homes adorn the outside of the palace, almost as beautiful as the building itself. You gaze at your surroundings with awe, the forest indeed looks like it has been woven into the buildings.

They bow as you pass, you were surprised they held the same respect. But it was a relief to know they didn't hate you. The guards follow behind you both, your horse stops aside hers at the palace opening. She slips onto the ground gently, turning to wait for you. Lifting one leg over your horse, you wince, not realizing how sore you were. Hyríl moves closer to you, opening her arms to offer you support as you prepare to get down.

Your nose wrinkles as you grab her arms gently, jumping to the ground. She takes your hand and walks you up the steps inside. Not once commenting on your limping, which you were immensely glad for. Your eyes take in the details silently, what could you say to such beauty?

She leads you through the halls slowly, letting you examine your new home. The walls were intricate, delicate patterns sculpted in the design. Everything was open allowing them to practically live within nature itself, nothing like the thick enclosed walls of Minas Tirith.

A large curtain hung above the massive doors you came upon, the detail in the woodwork was simple but you knew this was her room. Pushing the doors open, the first thing you see is a massive view of the land through the open walls of the room.

There was a waterfall outside, and a large wooden bed to the right with a large canopy around it. You ran your hand along the soft material, examining the patterns woven into it. Letting you get used to the room, she starts to speak, “We will be having a ceremony soon to honor our new Queen,” turning to face you, her eyes sparkling, “The people want to meet the new Queen, the daughter of the Dúnadan and  Evenstar.”

Your anxiety rises as the current situation hits you, heart pounds in your chest. Grabbing the wooden posts to try and keep your footing. All your emotions hitting you at once. She rushes to your side, hands guiding your body gently to set on the bed. For once, the graceful Queen looked offset. She didn't have any idea what to do.

Tears start to roll down your cheeks as you dig your nails into your skin, anger, sadness, it was all there. Her green eyes were wide, lips set in a hard line. She gently takes your hands running her soft fingers over yours in a soothing manner and begins to sing, her melodic voice almost like a lullaby,

“The leaves were long,

  The grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.”

You recognize the song instantly. Her eyes meet yours, concern still evident in her knitted brows, but slowly your tears began to wane as you felt a sense of safety rise inside you. “That lullaby, I know it.” looking at her curiously, “Why did you sing that?” you question, pulling your hands back to wipe at your tears.

She turns, picking up a small cloth, offering it to you as she speaks, “It is the song of Beren and Lúthien, of course you would know it Arivae.”

A memory flashes through your mind, Ada always sang it to you at night. Even when you knew you were too old, he knew it brought you comfort. Taking the cloth, you stand, walking to the balcony. Seeing her dark hair blow in the darkening sky, you knew she had followed. Your chest aches as you remember your father, it had been two years since your parents had passed, but the pain was still there.

“Did you know them?” You ask, “My mother and father?”

Your eyes search the land as you wait for an answer, hands playing with your dress.

“I have seen them yes, their love was.. like the stars themselves.” She says.

You look at her, she was facing the waterfall you hadn't noticed before. A smile rises to your face, your new home was beautiful, you could see the homes of your people below.

“My mother was broken when father passed, it was if all light had left her…” you explain, nails digging into your palms as you remember her pale face. The way her eyes no longer held light, slowly your mother lost all her will to live and soon, she started to wither away. Hyríls voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Grief is a delicate thing, you never fully get through the loss of someone. I am sorry for your loss, Farrien.” She says softly.

Holding out her hand, you take it, walking back into the room with her, “The ceremony will be tomorrow, I will have them bring you food. For now, you must get your rest from the journey.”

You sit on the bed, watching her silver dress flow behind her as she walks to the doors, flashing a small smile as she leaves.

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