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asweetprologue · 3 years

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me lámh le do lámh - Part II

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He went straight to Vizima to find Triss, once he’d made his way out of Kaedwen. It wasn’t directly on the way to Oxenfurt, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel he was making an unreasonable digression. Though he was nervous about locating his bard, he needed to know what this Ida person could tell him.

Triss was as welcoming as always, greeting him with a brief press of cheeks and a light embrace. Yennefer had told her of Geralt’s mission, but she was unable to assist him on the first day, busy with treating several commoners who had come down with a sickness. Nothing of a magical nature, but it did detain her for much of the day after Geralt’s arrival. He busied himself in the city, restocking on potion ingredients that he’d run low on over the long winter, dropping his armor off to be reinforced, and picking up a slim cloth bracelet for Jaskier. It was a soft blue color, with silver beads spaced evenly over the surface, and Geralt thought it would please him.

Gods. He was in trouble.

That evening he dined with Triss in her quarters, despite the fact that it was wildly inappropriate. Geralt asked after it, and Triss laughed dismissively.

“That is a delightful sentiment, but no one is questioning my dalliances,” she said with a grin. “They’re too afraid I’ll turn them into toads if they irritate me. And besides, half the Continent believes that you’re courting Yennefer because of the bard’s silly songs, and the other half thinks you’re courting the bard.”

Ah. “Well,” Geralt said, articulately.

Triss smirked at him over her wine. It was exceptionally good, a vintage from Toussaint that was nearly as old as Geralt. Triss’ quarters were fairly large, befitting a court mage, but decorated in a way that made them seem almost cozy. She favored muted colors that turned rich in the light of the candles scattered around the room. There were dozens of tables and shelves crowded with books, herbs and knick knacks that made the space feel distinctly lived in. It was a stark contrast to Yennefer’s lodgings, which were always immaculate and finely organized. The clutter was a refreshing change of pace. “Yennefer told me that you’re trying to make the bard immortal,” Triss said. One of her eyebrows rose, and Geralt wasn’t sure if the look she gave him was impressed or judgemental.

“Not necessarily,” Geralt said defensively. “Just not so, uh.”

“Excessively mortal?”

He hummed. Triss sighed.

“I don’t know of anything to lengthen a human lifespan to that of a witcher’s,” she said. “But the elves have been dealing in things relating to life force for longer than there have been human mages on the Continent. If anyone has any knowledge of what you’re after, it will be the Aen Saevherne.”

Geralt nodded. “Yennefer told me to ask after a woman named Ida. A sage?”

Triss set her goblet down, looking grave. “Ida Emean. An old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps one of the last elven sages alive, though they’re so secretive it’s difficult to tell. She works occasionally with the Brotherhood, when their goals align. But you need to know, Geralt, even if she has an answer for you, this kind of magic comes with a price. Always.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, he’s—”

Triss interrupted him with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand on the table. “I know what he is to you. I want to help. I just want you to be careful.” Geralt wondered when he’d become this transparent to, apparently, half the Continent and every one of his close friends. The sorceresses were probably gossiping behind his back.

“How will you contact her?” Geralt asked, pushing through his embarrassment. He wished saving Jaskier’s fragile human life didn’t involve so many conversations about his unrequited love.

“Megascope,” Triss said, rising. “We’ll need to do it soon, when the moon rises. It will make the connection stronger; I’m not sure where she is.”

Geralt followed her into a room off of the main sitting area, a small space that was almost entirely dominated by Triss’ megascope. He’d seen its like numerous times at Kaer Morhen, where Yennefer had set her own up in the highest tower still standing. The large crystal disks swam with a cool blue light as Triss waved her hand through the air. Three brass arms rose up to hold them at shoulder level, facing inwards to form a triangle. The soft light filled the dark space, throwing Triss’ face into sharp relief before Geralt snapped a finger to light the candles in the room.

Triss stepped up in front of the negative space between the stands, uttering a few words in Elder that Geralt wasn’t familiar with. After a moment the light began to shimmer and twist around itself, slowly solidifying into a human form.

The figure was indistinct, as they usually were in megascope projections, but Geralt could tell that the woman was beautiful. Used to dealing with elves in the south, whose genes had been diluted with human blood over so many centuries, Geralt was taken aback by the sharpness of her features. Her neck was long and elegant, and her hair fell in sheets around her alien features. He was reminded suddenly of his encounter with the elves of the Blue Mountains so many years ago, the inhuman angle of Filavandrel’s cheekbones.

The smoky figure turned towards Triss first, her head dropping in a brief nod. “Triss Merigold. Keidmil.” Ida said in greeting.

Triss nodded in return, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Keidmil, Ida. I apologize for summoning you with so little warning. I have done so as a favor to a friend.” At this Ida’s eyes, empty orbs of swirling blue light in the megascope, fell on Geralt.

“Vatgern,” she said, with the tone of someone who has just discovered something fascinating but slightly repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. “You have friends in high places, wed. What business does a witcher have with me?” Her accent made the words almost musical.

Geralt’s nod of acknowledgement was more of a bow. He wasn’t normally one to show deference to those with power, but this time his heart was pounding in his ears as he leaned forward. If Ida wouldn’t help him, he would be back to square one before he’d even really begun. “Keidmil, Aen Saevherne,” he said as demurely as he could, which probably still came out sounding like gravel. “I was told by Yennefer of Vengerberg that you might have some knowledge on extending human lifespans.”

Ida’s head tilted a tic to the side, clearly intrigued. “Witchers already live near as long as any half-elf on the Continent,” she replied. “There is no spell that could give you the lifespan of a true Aen Seidhe.”

“It isn’t for myself,” Geralt said quickly. “It’s for a human. Someone I… care deeply about.” He ignored the way his face flamed at this admission, no matter how clear it was that Triss obviously knew about his infatuation. He’d barely admitted it aloud to himself, let alone anyone else.

Ida hummed, the sound vibrating through the megascope. “This has precedent. But the spell you seek does not come without cost.”

“Tell me,” Geralt said firmly.

“There has always been conflict between humankind and the Aes Seidhe. Our peoples have crossed gweld an gleidyf many times over the millennia. But there were always times when there was peace, coexistence. In the early days, before the blood of men diluted our own, the Aes Seidhe could live through half a dozen human lifetimes or more. It was taboo to form relationships with humans, and many did not bother. But there were, of course, exceptions.

“It is unclear where the ritual comes from, but the tales say that one of the Aen Saevherne fell in love with a human woman, who then fell gravely ill as she entered her twilight years. The sage, terrified of losing her, bound her lifeforce to his own, effectively extending her life at the cost of some of his own longevity. Over the years the ritual was refined by others. It has fallen out of practice, in this age; many of the Aes Seidhe’s bloodlines are so diluted that they live for no longer than twice a human lifetime. But the ritual remains.”

Geralt swallowed. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I can,” Ida said, her chin raising slightly. “But I do not need to tell you, vatgern, that all such magic comes with consequences. You cannot create those years from nothing; they must be drawn from somewhere. And you will be binding yourself to this human. I cannot say how this ritual will impact someone who is not of elvish blood.”

He could feel Triss turning worried eyes on him. She too knew the price that magic could demand. “Will Ja—the human, could he be harmed?” Geralt asked.

Ida’s head shook back and forth, her hair swaying. “You assume the responsibility of the ritual,” she said. “Is this human worth so much to you?”

“Yes,” Geralt said instantly, surprised by his own lack of hesitation. “Anything.”

Ida looked at him for a moment, as if judging his truthfulness. “Very well,” she finally said. “I will give you the words, but the ritual requires additional pieces. Gaes carraigh, an oathstone, for the vow; ghealachlíon, night’s linseed, for the binding; and ionad, a place of great power or great personal meaning. Once these elements are combined, you bind your hands with the moonflax over the oathstone and speak the incantation. It is straightforward, but your pronunciation and your intent must be exact. Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt repeated. The words were easy, close enough to their modern counterparts that he was certain it would be nearly identical in southern Elder. It was almost too easy, romantic in its simplicity. Ida nodded, satisfied. “And that’s all?” Geralt asked, breathless.

“That is all. There need be no officiant, no further ceremony. You will be bound by Chaos herself.”

“Officiant?” Geralt blinked, confused. “Why would we need an officiant?”

“I have been told that human marriages tend to involve quite a few witnesses,” Ida said, sounding amused. “Ours are a bit more personal.”

“Wait. This is a marriage ritual?” Geralt felt his heart starting to sink down into his stomach.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ida replied. “Now, if that is all you require, I have my own business to attend to.”

“Me grasha, Ida, for taking the time,” Triss piped up again. “If you ever need a favor in return…”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ida said. “Va feil.”

“Va feil,” Triss replied, and the megascoped dimmed and cast the room back into darkness.

Geralt stood in utter stillness for a moment, blinking into the dark. “Fuck,” he burst out. “I have to marry him?”

Triss just laughed.

Triss, luckily, knew the locations of most of the components Ida had mentioned, though the last location would be up to Geralt to determine. The first of these, the oathstone, was used frequently enough in larger elven settlements before their people were displaced. She had recommended the ruins of Ban Aine as a likely findspot, and it was situated not too far from Oxenfurt. That was to be his first real stop, to collect Jaskier and convince him of Geralt’s plan.

Hopefully without revealing too much about the exact nature of the ritual, which still made Geralt sweat when he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t help but think of it with a strange mix of giddiness and dread, churning together in a nauseating concoction. Marriage wasn’t something that witchers got to do, ever. Their lives were transient and drawn out, and often ended in violence. Even if any of them had the time to court lovers, it wasn’t the type of life that one would wish on someone they cared for. It could only end one of two ways: the witcher outlived their paramour, or their love was left to grieve them after they were gutted by some beast or strung up by an angry mob.

Even when Geralt had been infatuated with Yennefer he hadn’t truly considered anything like marriage. He had imagined a kind of loose commitment, maybe, but he had always known somewhere deep in his own mind that Yennefer would never stand to be tied down to anyone for long. He had been desperate enough for her love that he’d been willing to settle for anything she could give him.

He had never dared to hope for more, no matter how he might want it. Still, once he had come to understand his own feelings towards Jaskier, he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about it at times. He wondered what things might change between them, if they tied themselves together. Things might stay much the same; Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen most years, and journey with Geralt when he could throughout the rest of the year. He would bring trinkets and books and stories for Ciri, and teach her how to be human, and trade quips with Yennefer and the other wolves when they all gathered. He would still help Geralt clean up after a hunt, help him stitch his skin back together and wash away the grime and curl up at his side when night came. But maybe he would also let Geralt wake him by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s eyelids like he had so often yearned to do. Maybe he would reach out and hold Geralt’s hand as they walked through a new town; maybe he would close the distance kept between them when they lay in tiny rented beds.

Maybe he could be Geralt’s, and no one else’s.

He was successful, most of the time, in keeping these kinds of thoughts at bay. It did a witcher no good to dwell on what could not be.

Now it would be, if only technically, and only if Geralt could convince Jaskier to perform the ritual without giving away its origins. He considered telling Jaskier the full truth of it, of course. It was probable that Jaskier wouldn’t even care. In his mind, they were only friends; it would be easy enough to set aside the implications of the ritual in favor of practicality. It would be ridiculous to turn down the chance at potentially doubling his own lifespan just because hundreds of years ago an ancient ritual was used for romantic unions.

But every time Geralt thought of telling Jaskier, and of hearing him dismiss Geralt’s concerns, he felt something black and dreadful crawl up his throat. Jaskier would think it was silly, the idea that he could ever be married to a witcher. He would laugh, with that sly grin he always got when they were sharing a joke between them—isn’t that funny, the look would say, the idea of you and me.

No. If he said nothing, Jaskier would never have to know, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Geralt would never hold him to any sort of bond that the ritual created between them; he would be happy knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be taken from him by time and old age, at least not yet.

And at least he would have something of Jaskier for himself, even if he’d had to steal it.

#geraskier #geraskier big bang 2021 #big bang #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher #the witcher #twn #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #multichapter #me lamh

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tinylittlestella · 3 years

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Okay so I’m just gonna post this now I guess. I was waiting until it was more “done” but???

Edit: omg I forgot to credit @yeenybeanies for inspiring me to just throw this idea out to the public instead of hoarding it and waiting for it to be perfect

I’ve been kicking around the idea of a Cinderella story where the prince doesn’t let her leave at midnight. They’ve hung out at a few balls because magic or whatever. Ella is her name, society is a mix of humans and elves. Elves are like maximum 20 inches tall, half elves take after their elf parents like 25% of the time. Bases covered? Cool.

Ella’s heart seized in her chest when she realized that the doors back into the ballroom were locked. She ran quickly for another pair, but they were locked, too. They were all locked. She was trapped out here on the balcony.

“No...” she murmured to herself, glancing back up at the clock tower in the courtyard. She only had a few minutes left until the spell broke; if she couldn’t get away she would be stranded at the palace. Her family would find out that she’d been sneaking away, and if she wasn’t killed for treason for using magic inside the palace surely her stepmother would do it herself, like she’d been threatening to do all Ella’s life. After all, it would be too easy...

“Something wrong, my lady?” came a voice across the cool garden air, and Ella spun around to see that the prince had joined her. How did he get out on the balcony? Had he come out before her?

“Y-yes,” she said, finally letting go of the door handle to turn towards him. “I’ve been out much later than I intended, and I need to go home. Can you open the door?”

For just a moment hope bloomed in her chest when he nodded, but the slow smile that stretched across his face made her heart sink. “I can, but I won’t. You’ve proven far too elusive, my lady. I can’t let you go when I’ve finally got you right where I want you.”

Any words she might’ve been able to muster caught in her throat as she realized his meaning—he’d done this deliberately. He’d trapped her out here to prevent her from running away. She had known that he was getting frustrated at her disappearing, but she never imagined he would take this much interest in her, a nobody who hadn’t even given him her name. She didn’t really think she deserved this much attention.

“I c-can’t stay, your highness, please,” she said, horrified when her voice started to break. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t hold in her fear. “There w-will be—t-terrible consequences if I don’t go—“

For a moment the prince seemed equipped to give her a snappy response, but then he looked down at her and he could see the genuine terror in her eyes and it seemed to strike something in him—the teasing disappeared from his face, replaced by concern. He reached out for her and steadied her shoulders.

“Easy, it’s alright,” he said, trying to go for a soothing tone, rubbing at her arms over the sleeves of her dress. “Nothing’s as bad as all that. I can protect you from anything that happens.”

“I d-don’t think you’ll w-want to for long...” she murmured, and he frowned. Her lip trembled and she let out a soft, pained little wail as the clock began to chime, lifting her hands to her mouth. It was over. It was all over.

The prince was still touching her shoulders when it started to happen, when her dress started to glow and magic started to swirl up in the air around her. He had to let her go as it whipped around her body and dissolved all the careful work that had been put into her appearance, taking away her fine hairstyle and makeup, taking away the fine fabric that made up her dress, taking away the human stature she had gained through her fairy godmother’s magic. When the magic was gone and the light had faded, all that was left was Ella, in her true form.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as though that would cover the ragged scrap of a dress her family had given her for daily wear, or the stained apron tied around her waist, or the fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her ears were just slightly pointed, the freckles on her cheeks caught the light like glitter, and if she stood up straight she would be no more than sixteen inches tall. She was part elf, like her mother had been.

She could only dare to glance up at his face once and immediately regretted it. Those eyes which had once been able to light her on fire from the inside out were now horrified as he looked down at her and she clenched her eyes shut, holding her hand over her mouth as she tried to restrain a sob.

“I’m s-so sorry, your h-highness,” she managed to choke out on a ragged breath. Her chest hitched and she had to pause to catch her breath again. “I n-never wanted you to s-see me l-like this—“

She was covered in a thin layer of soot and grime from the backbreaking work she did to keep her stepmother’s household running and her hair was a mess gathered at the back of her head. She knew how absolutely wretched she looked—a creature like her would never be allowed in the palace like this. Shame burned deep in her gut and she finally just collapsed on herself, falling into a crouch as she tried to make herself as small as possible—as if she weren’t small enough already.

For a long moment there was silence, and then she couldn’t help flinching as she heard him getting closer. He paused when she did, but when she didn’t actually try to run, he started again. He put a hand on her back and it covered her from her shoulders almost down to her hips. His fingers were so warm and she was so damn touch starved that she let out an entirely involuntary noise at the contact—a soft, aching sound from the back of her throat that apparently stirred him into action once more and he moved so quickly she didn’t have any chance to stop him. He scooped her up in his arms, tucking her securely against his chest, and started walking.

Ella didn’t have the courage to ask him where he was taking her, and even if she did she was so stunned by how quickly and securely he had picked her up and held her that she might not have been able to form questions anyways. Mostly her mind was whirring and trying to think of any way she could get out of this situation with her life. She wasn’t coming up with much.

It didn’t help that she was pressed right up against his chest and could hear his heartbeat thrumming through his body, which could have soothed her off to sleep if she weren’t so goddamn frightened. Instead it just clouded her head, made her lose her train of thought, and made her feel like she was about to doze off.

Finally he came to a stop and she realized that he had taken her some hidden way back into the castle. She had never been in this room before, but a quick glance around said that it was...it was most likely his bedroom. Oh, god, what had she gotten herself into?

He walked over to his giant four poster bed and, much more gently than she expected, set her down in the middle. He gave her a look as he took his hands away, trying to communicate without words to ask her not to run when he let her go. She nodded, and he gave her a brief smile that looked exactly like they used to before he walked off to a closet and started pulling out clothing. She watched him warily as she wrapped her arms around her knees where she was sat in the middle of the bed. He still hadn’t said a word about her true form since the spell had broken.

He came back without his jacket or his waistcoat, bootless, and holding a tiny bundle of fabric in his hands. He offered it to her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to change into this?” He kept his voice soft and low for her and her breath caught when she realized what he was offering her.

A traditional elvish robe. She hadn’t seen one since she’d had to sell all of her mother’s to help with costs at the manor. It was simple, but clean, and she reached out a trembling hand for it. He allowed her to take it from his fingers and turned around.

“Tell me when you’re done,” he said, and Ella’s eyes widened. Change here? In front of him?

But she didn’t have much choice, did she? She took a deep breath and quickly whipped off the ragged dress and apron to put the robe on over her undergarments. Despite remembering how to tie the waist tape behind her back, it was made difficult by her trembling hands. She finally dared to look him in the face again when she was finished. Only—he was still turned around. She struggled for a moment for what to say before she finally settled on, “I’m done.”

For a moment she thought she said it too quietly for him to hear her, but then he turned around and tossed her old clothes aside and her breath caught once again. It hadn’t truly, fully struck her how much bigger he was than her now, but with him further away so that she could see more of him, the difference was stark. And it wasn’t the prince who had changed. It was just her. She found herself again struggling against tears and ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t know how he could stand to look at her after she lied to him. She didn’t know how he didn’t hate her. Maybe he did. Maybe he was just that kind that even though he couldn’t stand the sight of her he still wanted to make sure she survived the night.

One long, massive digit hooked under her chin and tilted her face back up to meet the princes gaze. His skin was warm and she could feel the strength in his hand just from this one small touch, something that he could barely feel. He leaned down to see her better, making himself look even bigger, and she trembled as his eyes bored into hers, questioning and curious.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly, and she knew that she could no longer evade him.

She took a deep breath and swallowed. “Ella. M-my name is Ella.”

“Ella...” He repeated it softly and she closed her eyes for a moment, pulling back from his hand. The way he said it sounded far too intimate, far too much like something she had desperately been wanting to hear, and it hurt her heart like a stab to the chest. A lump had formed in her throat and it was getting more and more difficult to swallow down. “Where are you from, Ella?”

She flinched as he sat in the bed beside her, but he took extra care not to jostle her, holding a hand out by her side in case she fell from his movements. The level of care was startling and Ella didn’t know how to take it.

“I’m f-from the T-Tremaine estate, y-your highness...” she said, though her voice was strained. She watched warily as he lifted his hand, but he just brushed his fingertip against her cheek. It was so gentle and tender and for a moment—for a moment she thought—maybe, maybe she had been granted the greatest gift she could ever ask for. Perhaps, there was a chance, if he could spare any affection, she would take even the barest scraps he could offer, she didn’t care as long as she could stay by his side and get out of that horrible house—

But then that moment shattered. She realized when his finger came away that he had been brushing away a smudge of soot on her cheek, and that was when she finally broke. Her face crumpled and the sob that had been building in her chest finally released. She lifted her hands to her face with her last shred of dignity, to at least try to muffle herself, but it turned out to not be necessary. Her body was just too small for her humiliation—she couldn’t physically sob as hard as she needed to, so she couldn’t even make a sound. She staggered as she gasped for air and that was when the prince finally decided to intervene.

Enormous hands seemed to appear out of nowhere and curl around Ella’s form. She let out a startled little yelp at the suddenness of it, and the sensation of being lifted off her feet, but it was short lived as in the next moment her head was nestled in the crook of the prince’s neck and he was stroking her back with his fingers while he held her securely in place with his other hand.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and his voice was deep and bassy and inside and outside, filling her head and the air around her. “You’re okay, it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

She was too overwrought to question it anymore, so she just let herself be swept away, burying her face against his neck and crying every tear she had never let herself shed. She clung to his neck with one hand and reached under his collar with the other, almost as though she was trying to work her way under his shirt. He didn’t seem to care, as he hadn’t stopped trying to soothe her.

“Please don’t be frightened of me, darling. I would never hurt you,” he murmured down to her, as he stroked the shape of one of her legs through her robe with his thumb. “You’re okay. I’ll protect you from anyone who tries to harm you. You’re safe with me.”

And she felt like it. Pressed against his neck and chest, with his hands on her back and her legs, she felt so safe. He was so gentle with her that she couldn’t help trusting him, and she was warm and surrounded by his skin and the beat of his heart and his breathing and his scent. He was heady and spicy, with a sweet undercurrent of vanilla. She closed her eyes and turned to nose at his neck, looking for more of that scent. She thought the gesture small enough that he wouldn’t notice but he did stiffen just slightly, and she drew back immediately with a murmured apology.

“No, darling, stop,” he said, and he stroked her hair with one finger to encourage her to lay her head back down. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting you to...trust so quickly. But I’m glad.” He stroked her hair again and she couldn’t help melting under the soft touch. “Ella, what...what happened out on the balcony? You changed.”

Immediately any relaxed feelings disappeared and she stiffened in his hold. She looked up at him, leaning back to see his face, and she could see the curiosity burning in his eyes. After a long moment she quietly began to tell her story.

“It‘s... a long story. It started when I was younger...” She hated how small her voice sounded, but she carried on and told the whole thing. Her mother’s death as a child, the arrival of her stepfamily, her father’s death and her subsequent misery. How the balls and meeting him had been a lovely escape, and she’d never intended to lead him on. She had grown to know and love him, but knew he could never be with someone like her.

The entire time she spoke he kept a hand at her back, supporting her silently through it all, and every now and then he reached up with a finger to brush away a tear or two or to find her tiny little hand. When she got to the end of the story he brushed hair behind her ear with one finger and gave her the softest look.

“I never could have imagined you were going through so much,” he said quietly, and she blinked. That was far from what she’d expected him to say. “You always seemed so—happy. I thought there might be something more, something underneath you didn’t want me to see, but I never...I never thought it was this.”

“I didn’t want to—to hide, or to lie, but I never would have been allowed into the palace otherwise,” she said. “My stepmother would have recognized me instantly, and then I never...” She paused, and her cheeks heated until she was sure he could feel it under his finger. “I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant male #tiny female #my writing #ella and the prince

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

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“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 5

hi. im back. after slightly longer than usual (my usual was like everyday, not happening again) i have returned. :) this update is also slightly longer than usual too but who complains about that?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

without further ado

Did Marinette Miss Her Own Wedding? I

Constantine was having a horrible time, as far as Marinette could tell. His phone kept ringing, which he was pointedly ignoring, and he looked more and more frustrated as he skimmed through one of his many grimoires. He was also very sober. Maybe that had something to do with it.

After Marinette’s little excursion out with Plagg the previous night, Constantine joined her and her grandfather and explained the lore behind the Renlings and what they were capable of. Marinette was already over it. It’s one thing to be magical guardians of one set magical gods, but animal spirits that transform the wielder into the respective animal is borderline ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. And Constantine wants her to find them. Why not the Justice League? Or their team of proteges? Well, apparently, Constantine has a healthy distrust of the Justice League and magic they are unfamiliar with. Something about a mystical house no longer existing because somebody was suspicious. They fucked around and found out, as Plagg so eloquently put it. She didn’t know how she felt about aiding Constantine in his paranoia.

Anyways, Marinette was now Constantine’s go-to whenever he wanted to keep things away from the JL. She would have said no like a reasonable person, but she was at least getting more magical training and could actually use some of the spells in the Miraculous grimoire. Speaking of which, the grimoire that Constantine was hunching over was supposed to help them in finding the other Prodigiouses. The Kwamis were surprisingly unhelpful as they have never heard of the Prodigiouses or Renlings.

After what could have been hours of grueling translating and spellwork, Constantine had finally figured out the location of the eight total Renlings and what their prodigiouses looked like. While Marinette and Master Fu began scheming appropriate retrieval plans, Constantine went to answer his many missed calls.

“What?!” Well that sounded concerning. Constantine looked ready to pull his hair out from scalp with tweezers. Whatever news he just received must have been awful for him to lose his composure like this. Good.

“You lot are planning to do what now?” Oh, was this JL business? Should Marinette be listening to this, albeit one-sided, conversation?

“And why do you all need to do this?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. I’m working on something important.”

“Yes it is important, Zatanna. Please don’t let that group of League Juniors do this.”

“You even got me saying ‘please.’ No I can not tell you why”

“Well what do you mean you can’t trust me?!” This was starting to sound serious. The popcorn that Wayzz brought was also making this ten times more entertaining.

“Zatanna-” Oh he got cut off. Serves him right.

“Fine, be that way.” Constantine forcefully ended the call and was pouting like a child.

Marinette didn’t know if she should ask anything but she had the feeling it was related to the prodigiouses and tracking them. Were the League getting involved? It would explain his desperation to not have them interfere.

“I can’t believe them.” Looks like Marinette didn’t have to make the decision after all. He was going to rant about it.

“What can’t you believe, Constantine?” Her grandfather appeared equally as curious.

“The Team are going to try and track down the prodigiouses. Luckily, they only think there are five rather than eight.” He paused to run his hands through his already disheveled hair. “I don’t know which five they’re tracking. Also, they probably know you have the Snake’s Fang.”

“Pardon?” Marinette doesn’t know what she would do if she was on the Justice League’s most wanted.

“Zatanna didn’t outright say it, but Kobra probably told them it was taken from him. That’s probably how they knew about the others too. Thanks for that.”

“First of all, I didn’t even know what these things were so don’t blame me. Second of all, this could have all been avoided if you just told them!” Marinette did not appreciate the blame being put on her for the League’s involvement. She wasn’t done ripping Constantine a new one yet either. “Especially considering the fact that you knew that their secondary team had a mission there. UN rules or not. But no! You wanted to keep all your magical secrets to yourself. So don’t blame me for the consequences of your own actions.” She was fuming at this point, probably overreacting, but she was tired of cleaning up after people who won’t so much as thank her.

The ensuing silence was deafening and eyes that weren’t on Marinette were on Constantine. He looked rather surprised at Marinette’s show of spine, probably forgetting that she was born and raised in the League of Shadows. He never will again if he keeps pushing his luck.

Fu cleared his throat, probably clogged from the awkward tension. “Well, now that that’s all dealt with, do you know what your next move is Constantine? Do we actively hinder the League for the sake of your own peace of mind or do you talk to them and work collaboratively with them?”

Constantine, who was still doing his best fish impersonation since Marinette—no, Mei Fu—dragged him for everything he’s worth, tried to string together an answer.

“I still think it’s best we don’t involve the Justice League with this. We should try to intervene and cut off their attempts of retrieving the prodigiouses.” He sounded like a child trying to convince their parents that they didn’t break the expensive vase. Very pitiful and very unconvincing.

“Fine.” Pardon? Did her grandfather just agree? “We’ll help you keep the prodigiouses and the Renlings away from the Justice League.” Wow. Okay. So he’s just agreeing with him. Three guesses as to who will actually be the one to retrieve them. Wonderful.

Groaning with the weight of a thousand suns, Marinette also voiced her consent. The Kwamis were silent throughout this, not expressing their opinions. Except for Trixx, who had periodically rolled his eyes so hard Marinette would have been concerned he had popped a few blood vessels, if he had any.

They spent the rest of the week planning and convincing her parents that she wasn’t in danger with her grandfather. They agreed that Marinette would retrieve the Dragon’s Claw first. Despite Brazil being closer, the Monkey’s tail would be harder to find in the dense forestry so they didn’t want to waste time on an extended search until much later.

If you were to ask Marinette, the week was not enough to prepare. She made arrangements to stay with the Tsurugi family and convinced Kagami to help her in the mission. Her mother would be providing them with non-miraculous weapons as a back-up. Lady Tomoe was too understanding of her daughter being a magic-wielding superhero in Marinette’s opinion. Not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, Marinette did not make any comments about the very impressive artillery of weapons. She chose a pair of double broadswords while Kagami stuck to a katana. Kagami also had the Dragon and the Ladybug prepared while Marinette stuck to the Tiger and Horse. Plagg didn’t want to miss out on the action and planned to tag along again. Wayzz made an off-handed comment about Plagg’s sixth sense for chaos and his recent desire to accompany Marinette on these missions. Overthinking whatever that was supposed to mean had cost Marinette six hours of sleep.

While everything had been physically prepared, Marinette had yet to cope with the whole ‘going behind the backs of the Justice League because Constantine was paranoid’ thing. But this will not be the worst thing she has done. She also has the godsend, Kagami, to pull her out of any impending mental spirals. Now all that’s left is to actually get the Dragon’s Claw.

According to Constantine, the Dragon’s Claw was located inside the dojo of a martial arts master, O Sensei. Kagami, to be referred to as Tonbo, meaning Dragonfly, was to guard the perimeter for any individuals who could get in the way, while Marinette, codenamed Tigerlily with this combination of miraculouses, was to find the Dragon’s Claw, camouflaged by the tiger miraculous, and teleport them both back out. It was simple enough in planning and should be simple enough in execution. Even if the sensei of the dojo was to be made aware of their presence, They were expecting the element of surprise to give them an advantage. You know, outside of Marinette’s assassin training. So, yeah the plan was simple.

Except for the part where a group of the young Justice League heroes were already there negotiating with whom she assumed was O sensei. She recognized Kid Flash, Robin and Nightwing. The two women with them were unfamiliar. She also found the Dragon’s Claw in the sensei’s hand. She was positioned on a tree branch looking into a window in the room. If she timed this right, she could grab the necklace and portal out of the room to Tonbo and then portal back to the Tsurugi residence. That plan carries the risk of being seen but the pay-off should be worth it.

Poised to leap from the branch, Tigerlily steadied her breathing and prepared to call on the Horse’s Voyage. Still camouflaged, she jumped through the window and summoned the portal, about to grab for the necklace. Except she grabbed nothing and was suspended in the air.

Who she knew now was Ms. Martian was using her telekinetic abilities to suspend her. Kid Flash sped his way over and quickly tied her, the contact breaking the camouflage charm. They must have figured she would appear at one of the locations eventually and planned a contingency plan for her appearance. The martian hasn’t read her mind yet, so maybe they thought she was non-hostile. That thought wouldn’t last long however as Tonbo emerged from the portal and, using the Flame Dragon, took down Ms. Martian. Tigerlily used the distraction to undo the bindings and get in a fighting stance. Nightwing and Robin were protecting O sensei while Kid Flash and the other woman charged at the two.

Kid Flash was circling the two faster and tighter, corralling them together. Tigerlily drew for her broadswords and slashed the old floor boards. Kicking them in Kid Flash’s path, she knocked him off balance and thumped him the back of the head with the butt of her blade, knocking him down. Tonbo called for her Storm Dragon to subdue her opponent, who was also knocked down, then strung up both with the Ladybug yoyo. Tigerlily began a steady approach to the two batboys. She was ready to attack first but Nightwing got the upper hand. He drew his escrima sticks and swiped for Tigerlily’s head. She blocked with one sword and jump kicked to his chest, missing him entirely as he had crouched to sweep her legs from underneath her. Rolling out of the fall, Tigerlily slashed for his rising back but he intercepted with his other stick. He turned to face her and barrelled his full strength into her. They crashed into the nearby wall and at a standstill.

Tonbo was caught in a clash of katanas with Robin, neither side giving way to the other. If Tigerlily was more conscious of their fight than her own, she would have noticed familiar fighting techniques that were ingrained in her since birth. Alas, her attention was on the blue bird in front of her. Using his force that kept her against the wall, She double kicked him in the chest, forcing him away. Robin and Tonbo had broken away from each other and Tonbo aimed to stab Nightwing in the leg. Nonfatally of course, she wasn’t an ex-assassin as far as Tigerlily knew. Right?

Anyways, her attack switched up the fight as now Tigerlily tried to dodge under Robin's incoming blade. Sliding on her knees, she reached to where O sensei was situated with the Dragon’s Claw. Frustrated with the night’s turn of events and forgetting all sense of pleasantries, Tigerlily tried to grab for the necklace. The business end of a katana was swiftly placed under her jaw. One wrong move meant game over.

“What do you want with the Dragon’s Claw?” Robin sounded like he was holding back from saying something.

“An acquaintance of mine wishes for you all to not have it. I am merely doing him a favor, Tweety Bird.” Where did that nickname come from? She must have been internally catastrophizing more than she thought she was if she was actually trying to flirt her way out of this. Tonbo’s exasperation was made loud and clear with that answering sigh.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Mei.” Robin’s arm twitched at that.

“Wait, you know her?” “You know him?” Nightwing’s and Tonbo’s voices overlapped but Tigerlily registered none of it as her ears were ringing with spiked emotions she thought she had buried years ago. Only a few people knew her by that name. Kagami, Chloe, Luka and Adrien were the only people outside of the League of Shadows who knew her by that name. Even then, there was only one person her age with the Shadows who knew her. But it couldn’t be him. He was supposed to be dead. There was no way in hell that the Boy Wonder holding a katana to her throat was—

“Damian?!”

Taglist:

@deathwishy @neakco @virtualreading @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget @nathleigh @toodaloo-kangaroo @irontimetravelflower @trippingovermyfeet @t1dwarrior-of-earth @tip-tap-tired @fidget-eep @thenillabean @officiallydarkgeek @mystery-5-5 @moonlightstar64 @just-an-observer-ignore-me @nightstarblue @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fan-written @jjmjjktth @vixen-uchiha @zorua-adorable @nnon-it-up

#maribat #mlb x dc #daminette #badass!marinette dupain cheng #maridami #hdath #if you asked to be on the taglist but arent there let me know #hehehehe #i forgot to proofread oops #no beta we die like jason

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scarlettroubles · 3 years

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The Ryder Family Info (2021)

General Info

The Ryder’s are a pure-blood wizarding family of hunters that originated from America but have long since moved to the British Isles to escape persecution after a member of the family was revealed to be working with the very scourers MACUSA and the family themselves were hunting down. Their family motto is “The Hunt is Ours.”

Early History

The Ryder’s were said to hunt down anything that could make a profit. Dark witches and wizards, crime lords, the aforementioned scourers and all kinds of magical beasts, but most notably dragons.

It's said they created a spell strong enough to take down such a vicious and powerful beast, just as long as you aimed at the right spot. It was for this reason that the family crest is a slayed golden dragon on a green bloodied field with a crow flying above it. But the Ryder family soon found themselves paying the price for hunting down these fantastic beasts.

On what was supposed to be a simple hunting expedition, the entire family ended up being slaughtered by the dragon they’ve been trailing. The only surviving members of the once prestigious and feared family of hunters was one Ophelia Ryder, who only managed to survive the whole ordeal for not even being there in the first place. Having stayed behind because she was pregnant with her second child. Her twin brothers Elijah and Ezekiel Ryder who stayed home to watch over their grandmother and grandfather, and sweet little Calliope Ryder who was too young to go on the hunt.

It was then that the Ryder family swore to never again come in contact with the very beasts that almost managed to wipe them out for good and focused their attention on other prey. This tragedy put shame on the Ryder family name though, after all, they were hunters not the hunted.

People started to question their skills and reliability to get the job done and the Ryder’s could not have that. The remaining members of the family trained intensely to prove that they were still the skilled hunters they've always been for generations. Consequences be damned. It was during this period of time members of the family dabbled in the art of occlumency and legilimency.

It was rumored that the Ryder family did favors for MACUSA back when it was just the original twelve. Favors like tracking down rogue wizards, getting rid of magical beasts and troublesome no-maj’s. It was rumored that the family was even tempted to join the fledgling wizarding government. But a fight broke out between the family, a fight that tore the family in two and was the first instance of in-fighting within the family and the first time they found themselves nearly wiped out. For one of the family members, Adrian Ryder along with his wife and grandchildren were revealed to be working with a group of Scourer’s, The very group of traitorous wizards MACUSA was fighting to wipe out. And Eret Ryder, the head of the family at that time would not stand to have a traitor taint the family name. The fight ended with a bloodied field and a string of dead bodies. Fearing for their safety, the Ryder family fled to Britain and it was there that the family truly prospered.

Recent Events

In present day, the Ryder’s are still feared hunters but with Ervin Ryder’s disappearance, him being rumored to have joined the dark lord and his involvement with the Cursed Vaults, their reputation has been damaged in the eyes of the public and the family has been deemed ‘mad’ by the majority of the Wizarding community in the UK.

Traits

The Ryder’s most notable traits are their golden eyes, skin in a variety of shades of brown, dark hair, tall height, powerful build, and having an intimidating aura around them.

Most Ryder’s were known to have great accuracy as well as good instinct and both martial combat and magical combat came naturally to them. This is the result of how a millennium of hunting creatures and later on people have affected their magic.

Customs

The Head of the Family is almost always the eldest child, regardless if it is a son or daughter. But on rare occasions, the current head of the family may select one of the younger siblings to be the heir if they deem the eldest to not be a suitable leader or if the eldest refuses to take on the responsibility. On even rarer occasions, the current head won’t even choose their own child but a cousin from the family.

The Ryder’s lead a group of bounty hunters known as The Hunters of Artemis and whose leader is known as the Head-Hunter. The Head-Hunter tends to be the strongest child and it is not uncommon for The Head of the family to also hold the title of Head-Hunter.

First born sons and daughters are often given a name that starts with E (example: Edward, Evangeline, Ervin, Eileen, Elaina, Eliza etc.,). The family holds a belief that names that start with E give birth to warriors.

Although the Ryder’s are a pure-blood family, unlike most pure-blood families, the Ryder’s are not as obsessed with maintaining a ‘pure’ bloodline and focus more on their hunts and training as warriors.

The Hunters of Artemis

A group of Bounty Hunters founded and led by the Ryder Family. The leader is known as the Head-Hunter and wears a golden dragon pin with the moon in the background and an arrow in its mouth on their clothes. Both the leader and the members wear a cord around their neck and for every successful hunt adds an arrow onto that cord. Silver arrows for targets brought back alive and red arrows for those brought back dead.

When the Ryder’s came to Britain, The Ministry were warned by MACUSA that they might be a threat to the statue of secrecy, and so the Ministry did what it always does when they're scared. They had the family hunted down and for the second time, the Ryder’s once again found themselves nearly wiped out.

The Ministry realized that the family of hunters could be of use and so forced the Ryder’s to swear loyalty to them if they didn’t want their family to go extinct and the Ryder’s accepted. And from then on, the Ryder’s became The Ministry’s loyal hunting dogs and hunted down those The Ministry’s Auror’s and Hit-Wizards could not.

Members are either recruited by the Head-Hunter or were sentenced into joining it by The Ministry if they deemed the criminal guilty but useful elsewhere other than filling the empty cells up in Azkaban.

Rivalries/Enemies

Due to the Ryder’s occupation as hunters and them being highly skilled in the art of combat, not many families or people ever trifled with them.

The Ryder’s preferred to stay out of ‘pure-blood wars’ viewing them as petty and meaningless and made an effort to stay neutral whenever possible. The last time the Ryder’s got themselves entangled with such a thing, it led to The Wolves Rebellion. A civil war within the family that took place during the 1920s that lasted well into the 1940s that all started because of the family foolishly accepting the request of one Gellert Grindelwald for an audience with the family and whose honeyed words poisoned the minds of the family members and caused them to split in two and would later become the third time the family was nearly wiped out. The Ryder’s greatest enemies were most often themselves.

The only other enemies the Ryder’s had were the Lestranges. When Evangeline Ryder divorced Adhemar Lestrange when she found out her youngest son, Salvatore Lestrange was a squib. Fearing what the man would do to her child, she went into hiding which led to the birth of a bitter feud between the two families.

Adhemar would later on be killed in a raid led by the Ministry’s Auror’s during the First Wizarding War by Evangeline’s older brother, Edward Ryder, after the former tried to escape and resist capture. The Lestranges have since sworn vengeance against the family and have sent countless assassins after Evangeline and Edward’s children. Resulting in Evangeline raising her children in a sheltered life while Edward personally picked and trained 5 members from the Hunters of Artemis to protect his children at all costs.

Residence

The Ryder’s reside in the family manor located in Northamptonshire. The manor’s entrance has two bronze statues of a dragon with an arrow in its mouth while two wolves stand at both sides of it. The wolves appear to be fighting over the arrow with the dragon. The statues are said to commemorate The Wolves Rebellion and how the then divided Ryder’s fought each other for the title of Head-Hunter and how the dragon was triumphant in defeating the Wolves.

The Manor is surrounded by acres of trees and is protected in a layer of protective spells. When one enters the land surrounding the manor, they are consumed with an overpowering sense of fear. So a Ryder must cast a counter spell on their visitors before entering.

There is a garden out in the back which is well taken care of by Julianna Ryder, Edward's beloved wife and mother of his children.

Taking care of the garden was one of the few things that served to give Julianna some form of comfort after the death of her daughter Elaina and her oldest son's disappearance.

#the ryder family #hphm #hphm mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc #wizarding families #my art #eileen ryder #eliza ryder #edward ryder #finally redid the ryder's info lol #some names were changed from the old info I wrote a year ago #but yeah here it is

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

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A one-off request for @lonelyghostwriter: a story about Joey introducing Henry to the more innocent side of magic. This is just a goofy, whimsical ball of fun, and Joey x Henry is implied. This is the last one-off before I’m finishing “The Angel of the Ink Machine.”

The Boris had come out perfect.

The Boris had come out perfect!

And then it had decked him and run away to God knew where, but it had come out perfect! Joey was ecstatic. All he had to do now was hunt the creature down and make a few more and his dream would be fulfilled! And in the meantime, he had one more dream that he needed to fulfill, one that concerned his dear partner, Henry.

Despite sharing so much of his life and soul with Henry, he’d always kept the magic secret from him. He’d moved nearly all his supplies into the studio when Henry had moved in. Even the spell he needed to do regularly to keep disease at bay, he completed before Henry got up in the morning, with a pentagram hidden under the carpeting in their closet. But seeing their cartoon creations brought to life was worth the risk of scaring him- and anyhow, Joey Drew had planned how he’d do this years ago.

After dealing with Buddy’s body and before coming home that night, Joey made calls to Allison and Sammy. It was late, and in the excitement he’d forgotten that he’d fired Allison out of anger mere hours ago. Thankfully he’d been able to bribe her into one more session of potion-making. Sammy hadn’t picked up at all, but Joey could make do without him.

---

Henry woke up, far too early, to Joey shaking him awake with a big smile on his face.

“Huh? What is it?” Henry asked.

“I have a whole day planned for us. Get up! We’re meeting Allison soon. There’s something- a lot of somethings, actually- that I need to show you. You have an hour to get ready. Alright?”

“Uh, okay!” Henry was kind of used to Joey being full of surprises. He was fairly sure this would be a good one- they usually were. Within an hour, he was in the passenger seat of Joey’s car.

Joey took a deep breath. This would be the difficult part- admitting all he’d been hiding from Henry for the past few years. “So, Henry... you know how I tell you that Sammy and I go bowling together? Well, that’s not entirely true. Sammy and I share a hobby, but it’s one I didn’t know how to explain to you without showing it to you, and... anyhow, we perform magic together.”

Henry didn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Okay, the thought of Sammy doing stage magic is pretty strange. But it seems right up your alley- why did you hide it from me?”

“It’s not stage magic. And you’ll see why later.”

“Oh. Um.” Henry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Great. I can’t wait!”

A while later, they pulled up to a lovely brick house on the outskirts of town. Over the short wooden fence, Henry could see a lovely hutch of three rabbits. The garden had a lot of browning plants in it that clearly weren’t getting enough attention. “Nice place- must have cost a lot to get one in this area. Who lives here?” Henry asked.

“Allison,” Joey answered, ringing the doorbell. “I borrow books and buy potions off of her. And we’re going to make potions with her today.”

Thomas opened the door, rolled his eyes and called for Allison before retreating into the garage. Then, Allison popped her head in.

“Hey, guys! Sorry to call you here so early. But you know- early is the only time you can get fresh morning dew, and for what we’re making, that’s pretty important.”

“Of course,” Joey said. “I brought everything we’ll need. Let’s get cooking!”

Henry had been put to the task of chopping up herbs as Joey mixed three strangely-labelled vials into a pot of boiling water and Allison was outside collecting morning dew and whiskers from her rabbits. He was pretty sure at this point that this was some bizarre prank. Hopefully there would be some kind of payoff to it and this wasn’t just a waste of a Saturday, but at least Allison seemed pleasant enough.

“So, where do you get crow’s blood from?” Henry asked, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“A crow!” It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell Henry about the black market- at least, not yet.

“Okay. So, what’s this potion supposed to do?”

“You’ll see,” Joey said cryptically, “this is actually a pretty powerful one.”

A few minutes later, everything had been added, and the potion had boiled for just long enough, according to Allison. She scooped some out into coffee mugs with a ladle and handed it out to Joey and Henry.

Henry stared down apprehensively at the unappetizing mix of herbs and hair floating in the clearish-brown substance. “What’s it going to taste like?”

Allison smiled. “About how it looks, I’m afraid. But go on, down the hatch. Oh, and the effect might startle you, but it isn’t supposed to last long, so just try to have fun with it.”

Henry did as he was told, and Allison took his cup. He started to feel... heavy, and off-balance, and dropped down onto his hands. All traces of red melted from his vision, leaving the world in tones of blue, yellow, and green. Joey ruffled his hair, and it seemed as though his skull was smaller and thinner than usual. He said something that Henry heard as gibberish. Then, Joey took a sip of his drink, handed the cup to Allison, and before Henry’s eyes, turned into a black lab.

Henry yelped and skittered backwards, and yelped again once he caught sight of his own paws. But Allison was laughing- she seemed unconcerned, and she had said that this was temporary. So, Henry rolled with it. Allison ushered the two of them into the backyard, where they played fetch. A while later, as Henry was trotting back to Allison with the tennis ball in his mouth, he felt his teeth dull and his center of balance change once again, and he spat the ball back onto the ground. Joey came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, Henry? Do you believe in magic now?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, it would be pretty hard to deny at this point.”

“Thank you. Because I have a whole lot else to show you.”

Joey returned to Allison. “And thank you! I’ll miss this, you know.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” Allison admitted. “I’ve never made a potion this advanced before- and I might not have much use for it, but imagine the kind of money I could make from this! Oh, and thanks for testing it for me.” Allison went quiet a moment. “Let’s keep in touch, alright?”

Joey weighed his bitterness with his desire to do just that. “Sure.”

With that, Joey and Henry got back into Joey’s car and they took off to their next destination.

“So... you’ve been doing stuff like that for years?”

“Well, yes and no. Allison is more of a specialist than I am. Unfortunately, the stuff I’m most into has a bad reputation, but I’m going to show you that it can be just as innocent as Allison’s potions.”

Henry nodded. After literally turning into a dog, he wasn’t even going to try and guess what Joey had in store. After a few minutes, Henry found himself gazing out at a wooded area on the edge of town. Henry figured that Joey must have been driving to another city, but instead he pulled over onto the side of the road and ushered Henry into the brush, taking with him a bag. Finally, Joey reached a clearing and dropped the bag.

“This is the place,” he announced.

It was an untamed natural area, with no trails made through it. No one was likely to come out here. It wasn’t pretty either- just a dusty field surrounded by trees.

“Sammy and I spent our first few sessions here. I spent some of my first sessions here alone, too- learning to summon things. And now, I’m going to summon something for you. A demonstration.” Joey’s back was turned to Henry- he was scared of how he’d react.

Henry was beginning to worry- Joey sounded like he was trying to seem positive, but it wasn’t working.

“What kinds of things? And how?”

Joey met Henry’s eyes. Henry didn’t seem too afraid yet. Still, there was no easy way to explain this. “We summon spirits and Gods from the spirit realm using pentagrams. The spirit realm isn’t hell, spirits aren’t demons, and Gods aren’t the Christian God. No religion is right about everything. Spirits aren’t angels and demons- they aren’t fully good or evil any more than people are. But it’s the more reckless ones- the fast-and-easy-with-the-rules ones- that are likely to come when you’re summoning one. Pentagrams are like a ‘help wanted’ add for spirits and Gods. They have a job description, which are in the pentagram itself. Pentagrams are like writing in their language. And, they have an offering of pay. The sacrifice for spirits is generally flesh or blood. Tasks that are more difficult for them, you want to leave out more of a payment, or the ritual has a higher chance of failing- no one took the bait, basically. Or, someone did, but thought your offer was so insulting that they found a way to bungle it up. Gods… they demand a greater sacrifice. But summoning Gods is considered insane even by pentagram users. A spirit won’t escape unless your pentagram has line breaks, and there’s a limit to how much damage they can do. As for Gods, well… even I don’t know how to contain them, or the consequences of letting them escape…”

Joey broke his somber monologue with a bright smile. “So, wanna ask a demon to grab us some lunch?”

“Uh...”

“Okay, I know I made that sound scary. But I’ve... actually been doing a summoning ritual every morning to keep myself healthy for years. It’s no big deal.”

Henry smiled awkwardly. “Can I maybe just watch?”

Joey smiled back. “Sure.”

And so, Henry watched. Joey drew up a pentagram in the dirt, lit a candle in its center, and then slit his wrist and let his blood drop onto the pentagram.

Henry rushed to the bag and pulled out a first aid kit to tend to Joey’s wound. Henry had seen the scars on Joey’s right hand before, and had seen them seem to grow and stay fresh, but he’d never gotten the chance to really look at them before.

“Y’know, this is actually a huge relief. I mean, it’s a lot of things, but... Joey, I thought you were self-harming, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m glad you’re not.”

Joey smiled. “Thanks. So, are you okay with this?”

“I mean, I guess so. It seems shady, but you aren’t harming anyone.”

“Good. Because I’ve been working with the Gods of the spirit realm, and with their help, I brought one of our cartoons into existence. And I didn’t want to hide the magic from you anymore because I couldn’t imagine leaving you out of something that big! The toon I made is a Boris. He’s scared, and hiding somewhere in the studio. After lunch, will you help me coax him out of hiding?”

Henry’s face was lit up with awe and disbelief. “Oh my God. Of course! I can’t believe this! Joey, you should have told me sooner!”

Joey could practically feel the weight of secrecy leaving his shoulders. He still had to keep the murders away from Henry, of course, but he didn’t mind that. The murders weren’t a part of him. Magic was. “Thank you. I should have known I could trust you.”

At that moment, the pentagram glowed, and a picnic lunch sprang up from the ground.

“Let’s go see what those demons sent us for lunch.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #joey drew #Henry Stein #allison pendle #satanism #my fanfiction #requests #lonelyghostwriter #creatorship

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

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Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC (Alexis Randall) | Prologue

Pairing: Loki x OFC

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him. He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim. An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond. Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it. A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love. Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life. A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them. Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

“Your daughter seems quite taken with Loki.” Odin leaned over the side of his throne to comment to Freyr. The two glanced down at the two babies playing on the polished floor on the throne room in Vanaheim. The diplomatic trip had quickly devolved into a family reunion.

Freyr turned to smile at his cousin. “I was about to say the same thing to you about your young prince.”

Vanaheim and Asgard, although related by blood, shared a tenuous relationship. Wars plagued their history and more men, and women, had died than either king would like to admit. The two kings shared a knowing glance.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are, Freyr?” Odin smirked.

“I have suggested nothing.” The other king smiled.

“Perhaps our kingdoms could strengthen their bond through those two.” Odin stated.

“I’m listening.”

Frigga overheard the kings speaking in hushed tones. Gerth, Freyer’s wife, noticed as well how the two men gestured at the two babies. Frigga hoped Loki and Sjofn would become friends and companions, as they were both royal heirs to two of the most powerful kingdoms within the Nine Realms. She feared Odin’s wish was more diplomatic and more destructive.

“I do not like how our husbands seem to be speaking of the young ones.” Frigga leaned to whisper to Gerth.

Gerth furrowed her brow. “I agree. You don’t believe they would—”

Odin stood and knocked his specter against the hard floor. The sound echoed throughout the entire cavernous hall.

“The prince and the princess shall be wed upon the coming of age of young Sjofn, uniting the kingdoms of Vanaheim and Asgard!”

Freyr beamed next to Odin, soon standing to join him. The men clapped themselves on the shoulders, quite pleased with themselves as their wives gazed upon them horrified.

“Dear husband,” Frigga weaved her arm with Odin. “don’t you think it would be wise to not rush our son into an arranged marriage. Vanaheim and Asgard are at peace.”

“Do you question my judgment, Frigga? Yes, there is peace now, but its foundation is weak and unstable. Any slight could send us into another war. A war that would cost us the lives of many Asgardians.”

“I do not question you, Odin. I merely caution against toying with the affections of our sons and his future when he is not even old enough to voice opposition, let alone able to walk away from such an arrangement.”

Odin scoffed. “You fret over the boy. I am certain he will come to love the girl as much as I have learned to love.”

He kissed Frigga’s cheek. A peal of laughter cut the tension in the room, as Gerth argued with Freyr a few steps away. Four heads snapped to see Loki blowing kisses with his tiny chubby hand. Sjofn giggled each time, rocking as she sat.

“See?” Freyr gestured to the two of them. “They are already bonding. When will you women learn that we know best? Come Odin, I am in need of some fresh air and to stretch my legs. Leave our wives to coddle and fret over the babes.”

Odin laughed and followed Freyr out of the room, pleased the both of them. Frigga and insert crossed their arms.

“I will learn to listen when you actually do know what is best when it comes to matters of the heart.” Frigga scooped up Loki to cuddle him. “My darling son, I hope you find your true love, despite Father’s best efforts to prevent that.”

A Half Millennium Later

“Sjofn!” Loki called for her attention. Sjofn glanced up from her book with a look of annoyance.

“Yes?” Her voice dripped with disdain, uncharacteristic for someone so young.

“Check this out.” Loki twisted his hands and transformed himself into a snake for a few moments before returning to his Aesir form. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Hm.” Sjofn mumbled before returning to her studies.

Loki pressed his arms against his hips, huffing. “I would like to see you try.”

Sjofn waved one hand, holding her book with the other, and turned Loki into a snake, and then a frog, and then a squirrel, before returning him to his normal form. Loki stood before her, stunned. She giggled at the dumbfounded expression.

“What?” Her lips curled into a smile. “I’ve been doing that spell before I could walk.” Loki’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you just learn that?” Sjofn pushed back her soft brown hair from her eyes. “That’s so cute.”

“It’s not cute. I am a powerful sorcerer.” Loki’s voice holding a twinge of a whine.

“Yes, it is cute. It’s adorable.” Sjofn set her book down and stomped toe to toe with Loki. Even though she was older, Loki stood a full head taller than her. “In fact, it is hilarious you fancy yourself a powerful sorcerer.”

Loki stared into her light blue eyes. If he wasn’t so incensed, the mischief reflecting in her eyes would amuse him.

“Are you insinuating I’m not?” Loki puffed himself to his full height.

Sjofn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was no stranger to young boys and men trying to impress her. Her friends said they wished to catch her eye and win her heart, her hand in marriage, and all the power and prestige that goes with it.

“I will never marry.” Sjofn declared as she repeated the exchange to her mother over dinner that night. Her father was absent on a diplomatic trip.

“A funny statement coming from the goddess of relationships and love.” Gerth chuckled.

“I have not assumed my duties yet. Besides, who says I must wed in order fulfill those duties.”

“True.” Gerth smiled slyly. She had once said the same things to her mother. How quickly things changed when it came to matters of love. “But do not discard away things until you have experienced it.”

Sjofn rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“I am insinuating nothing. I am flat out saying it. You are not a powerful sorcerer. We teach these spells to Vanir toddlers.”

Loki’s face flitted between crestfallen and furious. “Not all of us are naturally gifted. Some of us have to work at our craft.”

Sjofn spun on her heels, the tips of her hair brushing against Loki’s chest. “Perhaps if you spent as much time studying and practicing your craft as you did on drinking, pranks, and romancing the young maidens, you would be the sorcerer you claim to be.”

Loki yelled in frustration. “You are impossible. There is no pleasing you.”

“Who says I need to be pleased?” She resumed prone position on the sofa.

Loki stalked towards her, his hips swayed. “Everyone desires pleasure, dove. Have you not read that in your books?”

Sjofn’s cheeks burned as Loki gazed down at her. He licked his lips, teasing. “Perhaps you need the right teacher.”

“You?!? I would rather kiss a snake.”

“That can be arranged.”

Sjofn stood up and stormed away. “I do not understand why our families insist on these little get-togethers. It is clear we have nothing in common.”

Loki laughed. “Well, you’re wrong. Because I agree with you about that, so we have that in common.”

“Good then, you stay out of my way and I will stay out of yours.”

“That is the first smart thing you have ever said to me.” The two parted ways.

With each visit to either world, the only feeling that grew between the two of them was disdain. Sjofn delighted in dressing down Loki, mocking his magic skills. Loki, meanwhile, taunted Sjofn at every turn. He enjoyed watching her pale skin reddened at his lewd comments. They hated the forced interactions but said nothing to their parents for fear of any reprisal.

Yet Another Half Millennium Later

The moment Sigrun entered the court, she captivated Loki. Word soon spread that the young prince sought to court the fair-haired maiden. The other young suitors backed off. Without the official blessing of the King, it forced Loki and Sigrun to court in secret. A horribly kept secret, but secret just the same. As the years passed, everyone in the palace expected an announcement regarding their betrothal at every ball or palace dinner. But no announcement was made. Loki and Sigrun grew more bold in their couplings.

“My prince.” Sigrun giggled. “They will find us.”

Loki nipped at her swollen lips. His entire body pressed hers against the cold stone of the pillar in the palace hallway. “That makes it all the much better. The thrill of being caught.” Loki’s cock strained against his leather pants. His hips bucking against her. She let loose a soft whimper.

“Loki…” she moaned as her hands tugged at his pants, struggling to free him. “I need you.”

Loki kissed her hard, his tongue demanding. Her hands freed him as Loki rucked up her skirt.

“My darling, Sigrun.” Loki cooed. “And I need you.”

As he plunged himself into her, Sigrun gasped, her head hitting the hard stone pillar.

“Yes, my love.” she moaned.

Loki snapped hard against her. “That’s it. Mold around my cock, sweet dove. You are so wet.”

Loki grabbed Sigrun’s leg, hooking it around his waist.

“Please Loki.” Sigrun pleaded as her orgasm drew close. “I need to…”

“Come undone for me, my sweet.” Loki adjusted his body to thrust deep into her, hitting that sweet spot.

Sigrun’s nails dug into Loki’s shoulders as she came. Her walls clenched around Loki. He soon followed her, spilling into her. Loki pressed his forehead against her.

He kissed her sweetly. “I love you, Sigrun.” Loki smoothed back her disheveled golden curls.

Her arms wrapped around her neck, burying her head into the crook. “And I love you.”

Loki’s heart swelled. “Then be mine. For always.”

Sigrun pulled back, staring at Loki in shock.

“Are you asking—”

“Marry me.” Loki’s nose nudged along her cheek, pecking along the smooth skin. “Be my wife.”

“But what of your father, he would need to approve of the union?” Her brows knitted together.

Loki’s lips pressed where the frown lines marred Sigrun’s face. “Leave Odin to me. Now is the answer yes?”

Sigrun hugged him tight. “Yes, yes, of course I will marry you.” She hopped in place.

Loki smiled down at her. “I will speak to him tonight after dinner.” He kissed her one more time. “I will come for you and we will celebrate properly. In my bedchambers.”

Sigrun shivered in anticipation. “Yes, my prince.”

Loki groaned. “You know what that does to me, sweet.” His hands fisted her dress. “I shall have to take you again, if you continue to speak in such a manner.”

Sigrun giggled. “I shall keep that in mind. But if I am gone much longer, they will notice my absence.” She did her best to straighten her hair and clothes and kissed his cheek. “Until tonight, my love.”

Loki’s hand held hers as she walked away, his fingers slipping away when she stepped out of range. He smiled, focused on her until she disappeared from sight.

“Absolutely not. I can not approve of this union.” Odin retorted cooly from his throne to Loki, who stood before him.

“Why not?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Lady Sigrun is of noble blood. Her family is favored within the palace. I should think it would please you to see me settling down.” Loki lowered his voice. “Unlike Thor.”

“Your brother’s love life has no relevance in this matter. Lady Sigrun is a fine match.” Odin gripped his specter tighter, expecting a fight. “Just not for you.”

“And again I ask, why not?” Loki quickly grew more infuriated by the second.

“You are already betrothed.”

Loki blinked in disbelief. “I don’t recall proposing to another. Tell me, Father, who am I set to…” Loki’s face narrowed in realization. “… It’s Sjofn. What have you done, Father?!”

“Joined two kingdoms. Strengthened our rule.”

“By promising me to a woman I barely know?!”

“Because you choose not to learn anything about her! Sjofn will be your wife when she comes of age. That is the end of the discussion.”

Tears welled in Loki’s eyes. “And I get no say in the matter?! While Thor is allowed to whore around with whoever he chooses?”

“Has anyone stopped you from seeking the comfort of whatever young maiden caught your eye?”

“ Thor may marry for love, I can not?”

“Precisely. Your mother and I were not a love match. I imagine you too can learn to love Sjofn in time. And I expect you to behave on their next trip here in the coming weeks.”

“And if I don’t?” Loki spat out the words. If he dared, he would strike Odin. Hot tears stung his eyes. “If I refuse to marry her?”

Odin sighed. He had hoped Loki would approach the whole matter with a calm and collected manner. “You would be banished. For the good of the Nine Realms.”

Loki huffed before spinning on his heel. “Well, we wouldn’t want something as insignificant as your son’s happiness to interfere with the good of the Realm. Would we?” He slammed the door behind him, stomping off to his chambers.

He did not call for Sigrun that night. Or the next. Or even the next. Finally, on the fourth day, he sent a note indicating he no longer wished to marry her. Loki cruelly gave no further explanation, believing it would be better if Sigrun thought he rejected her rather than the truth.

“Why must I go to Asgard, Father?” Sjofn whined as her maids packed her luggage for the weeklong stay.

“Because it is your duty as my daughter to entertain other kingdoms.” Freyr sighed.

These trips between Vanaheim and Asgard tired both him and Sjofn. While Freyr and Odin hoped frequent contact between the two would spark something. They had not planned on that something being contempt.

Sjofn delighted in insulting Loki, particularly his magic prowess. While Loki ignored Sjofn entirely, his eye wandered to the nearest young maiden instead.

“Then why must I spend the trip entertaining Loki? Couldn’t I hang out with Sif or even Thor instead? Loki is such a bore.” Sjofn rolled her eyes and flopped down on her bed, hair crowning her head. “Or better yet, can we just tell them I am sick and unable to travel? I would much rather stay and be with my friends. People whose company I enjoy.”

Freyr’s patience gave out. “ENOUGH!!” Sjofn jolted upright. “You will accompany me to Asgard and I don’t want to hear another word about it!”

Gerth came alongside Freyr, placing her hand on his arm. His shoulders relaxed at the touch. “Tell her, darling. She has a right to know.”

Freyr nodded as Sjofn panicked.

“Tell me what? What have you done, Father?” She stood and walked towards her father, suspicious.

Freyr cleared his throat, tugging his tunic straight. “You’re old enough to know, but learn to like Loki, your future happiness depends on it.”

“Why?” Her head cocked to the side.

“Because you are promised to him.” Freyr winced for the outburst.

Those words hung in the air heavy as Freyr’s voice bounced off the walls of Sjofn’s bedchamber. She stumbled back as if shot until the backs of her legs hit her bed and she fell onto it. She muttered unintelligible gibberish.

“What did you do?” she hissed, narrowing her at her father, the king.

Hiding his fear of what his daughter might do, Fryer pulled to his full height and puffed out his chest. “I did what I needed to do to strengthen and protect our kingdom. An alliance with the Asgardians only benefits us?”

“By selling away your daughter’s heart and happiness?” Sjofn growled, her voice growing louder by the minute.

“By making a strategic relationship decision beneficial to all of us.” He stepped back and Sjofn rose to her feet.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Sjofn screeched. “I am not marrying Loki! I do not love him.”

“Since when does love have any sort of place in marriage?! You will not speak to me that way!” Freyr fired back. “I am not only the king of Vanaheim, but your father. I demand respect!”

Tears streamed down Sjofn’s face. “Respect is earned, Father! Never demanded! How could you? To your own daughter?!” She collapsed upon the bed, sobbing.

Freyr stood silent for a moment, sharing a glance with Gerth. “We leave in the morning. I expect you to be ready on time.” He turned on his heel and left Gerth in the room to comfort Sjofn.

Gerth sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her daughter’s back.

“Your father means well.”

“Did you know, Mother?” she snapped back.

Gerth nodded sadly. “Frigga and I tried to convince Odin and your father to reconsider. Allow you and Loki to grow to like each other naturally. To see if a love match could be made. But you know how it is when your father makes up his mind.”

Sjofn chuckled through her tears. “You would have better luck trying to capture the morning light in a jar.”

Gerth smiled. “Indeed. Is Loki really all that bad?”

Sjofn harumped to sit next to her mother, wiping away her tears. “He is arrogant, smug, and conceited. Loki cares more about what is between a woman’s legs than between her ears.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“You seem to be awfully perceptive about a man you despise.” Gerth couldn’t resist commenting, earning an eye roll.

“I only notice because it is impossible to ignore.”

“Whatever you say.” She kissed her forehead. “I will make your excuses for dinner, but you will have to travel tomorrow.”

Sjofn nodded, the tears threatening to fall once again.

“Try to find the positive of the situation.” Gerth commented before rising to leave. “Perhaps Loki is not the cad you make him out to be.”

“Yes, mother.”

Sjofn waited until she was certain her mother had left before hurling her pillow at the door.

“Fat fucking chance.”

Loki noticed Sjofn’s puffy and bloodshot eyes the next morning as he waited to receive her and her father.

“Have you been crying after me, darling?” His voice sounded sincere, but his smirk betrayed his true intentions.

Sjofn snapped back, in no mood to tangle with him. “Do not flatter yourself. If you must know, I was informed we are to wed.”

“Unhappy news indeed. I am afraid I was informed as well of our intended betrothal. Allow me to put your mind at ease, I have no intentions of marrying you.”

“Did you think I would marry you?! I knew you were arrogant, I did not realize you were stupid too.” Sjofn sneered.

Loki grabbed her and pulled her close. “Keep your voice down. I have plans already in motion to ensure my father no longer wields his power over me or any other subject. I would suggest we go along with this ruse until my plans are complete. Then you will be free to marry or not.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

Loki only smiled in response.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki angst #loki smut #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki series #destiny has other plans

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

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Cloudwalker Series Part 24

Alright, more Avizon backstory and some Ro whump. I hope I’ve written this alright ^^’

Warnings: Grieving characters, healing wounds, possessive whumper, unconscious characters, head injury, stab wounds.

Masterlist Here

Approx WC: 2000

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Orrien knew Avizon had been lost in thought when he’d left him to check on the birds. That was nothing new, he often would zone out so Orrien left him to his peace. He was a grown man, Orrien couldn't always butt in like he did when Avizon was younger. However when he came back downstairs from finding Blue and Dyan fast asleep to see him staring blankly at his hand with tears slipping down his cheek, he knew Avizon was having a very bad day. His grief for Ro was making itself known more so than usual.

Avizon stood up quickly and made his way out of the cottage. "Be careful!" he called after him. Orrien knew better than pursuing him. He watched him head over to the stables and a few minutes later return with Secret. Though he’d put her reins on, he hadn’t brought a saddle. He used a fence to get onto her back and he set her off walking.

“Avizon?” he said softly. “Would you like to talk to me?”

It was enough to break him out of his trance. He shook his head and wiped his eye. “I… I need to go. I need to ride somewhere and clear my thoughts.”

(Flashback Continued)

Orrien sighed, feeling his little dragon biting his earlobe. Orrien brought a hand up to his ear and let the enchanted metal climb on. “I can’t stop him every time he does something he shouldn’t, Mouse. He can take care of himself…”

Orrien sat at the table, letting Mouse weave through his fingers, making loops for them to crawl through and letting them nibble on his ring. It was a nicer image to think about than the memories that ran through his mind...

Sleeping spells never worked on Avizon for long. But Orrien was glad he held on long enough to wake in Ro’s arms, nestled in pillows, to be safe. But Orrien had only just put his hands on Avizon's chest to heal him. Avizon cried out when the pain got to him again. He tried to get up, to get away from it, but Ro managed to hug him and hold him still. Orrien moved his hands from his chest to his back and managed to keep him there.

Avizon sobbed against him as Orrien worked. He pushed more and more healing magic into him, hoping he’d have enough in him. Orrien’s magic didn’t cause the pain, it was the muscles moving, the skin sealing, bones fusing. There was so much pain that came with healing quickly. “Shhh. I know, lad, I know… It’ll be over soon,” he soothed.

Ro rubbed Avizon’s back while he held him, stroking the back of his head, mumbling softly into his ear. Ro looked up at Orrien with worried eyes. Orrien was glad to see that Avizon had someone to hold, to trust in awful times like this. They loved each other dearly and it gave Avizon a reason to fight and survive. Ro struggled to restrain his weak frame when Orrien set his dislocated shoulder. It drew a hoarse cry from him that squeezed at his heart. He didn’t want to have to hurt him so much, but magic was the only way to heal these wounds.

Avizon couldn’t stop himself from clawing at Ro’s back when he held him, sobbing, screaming, choking because he couldn’t get enough breath. The begging for mercy started before Avizon could stop it and he wouldn’t stop. Orrien tried to block it out but his pleas hit him hard. He took his hands away, letting Ro cradle him and stroke his hair, trying to get him to draw deep breaths. He wheezed for a moment without Orrien pumping him full of magic and adjusting broken bones and flesh. Avizon sobbed into Ro’s shoulder, clinging to him with white knuckles.

“Father, please, give him some time. This is too much for him!” Ro pleaded.

Orrien grimaced, "Stopping will make the last few breakages fuse together incorrectly. I know it’s awful, but I have to keep going. Get him to drink some herb water if you can.“

"Deep breaths, Avizon, we need to get these healed right. Deep breaths."

Ro quickly brought the bottle to Avizon’s bluish lips with a shaking hand. “Drink, please. Find the strength to drink.”

Orrien paused for a few seconds, only while Avizon drank so he didn’t choke himself, but then he was off again, tearing a raw scream from Avizon’s throat as the bones in his ribs fused together again.

Avizon was too used to having to breathe through the pain. He managed deep but shaky breaths and tried to focus on holding Ro. He whimpered when Orrien's hand finally came away. He shrunk back down into Ro's arms. He looked so small and broken, but Orrien had learned long ago not to feel guilty for it. Despite it all, he was helping him.

"I swear I'll kill her for this one day," Ro ground out.

"T.there are... fates worse than death," Avizon mumbled. Orrien looked at him sadly. He should know, he was living one and Orrien pitied him greatly. He wished there was more he could do to keep him safe. "But I'd be happy t.to just… leave," Avizon whispered. "I just want to get far away…"

Ro kissed the side of his head. "Soon, love. Promise. We just need an opening. I will take you away from here soon."

"Provided we don't get hunted down…"

Orrien was determined to help them escape. He didn't care what it cost him. His son and his apprentice deserved to be happy and safe.

Avizon probably knew better, he knew that the princess and her parents could do whatever they wanted. Orrien couldn’t protect him. No one could. But every time they hurt him, Orrien saw the fire in Avizon's eyes grow. Every day, he got closer to snapping. If he didn’t get out of this nightmarish place soon, then either he was going to tear this place to shreds or he was going to break. Orrien had to get him out before then.

Orrien offered him more herb water and helped him out of his clothes before wrapping him up in a blanket.

"You need to rest, lad. I will not let anyone disturb you," Orrien promised.

“Two fucking chickens is not payment for a man that’s as wonderful as him. How can that hold? Father, it just isn’t fair.”

Orrien sat beside Avizon’s sleeping body, guarding him, watching him closely while Ro lay beside him, holding him close, helping him to drink more.

“This can’t continue,” Ro mumbled. “It’s just not fair. He’s meant to be here to protect them, how can they hurt him like this? How can they expect him to just stay in the castle and accept this level of pain so often?”

“Because they are in charge. Power is a dangerous thing, Ro, make no mistake. Besides, unfortunately he is technically theirs. They bought him. There's nothing we can do about that."

The door opened without anyone knocking and Orrien bolted up to his feet. His eyes grew wide. “Your majesty,” he bowed.

King Halve was not a small man. He was big, burly, and had an unkempt face for a king. It was greasy, large, and his large chin and jaw made him look all the more intimidating. He was dressed in the finest clothes, with large heavy rings adorning his fat fingers. Ro hid his hatred well behind false respect.

Ro reluctantly climbed off the bed, peeling himself away from Avizon and kneeled at the King's feet.

Ro didn't move from the bed as he was helping Avizon to drink but he bowed his head. "Your majesty," he answered, his voice cold and dead.

"Here," Halve ordered him, narrowing his eyes now.

Orrien's stomach twisted in dread. Avizon groaned in his sleep, as if he knew what was going to happen.

"Better. Back where you belong." He suddenly grabbed Ro by the hair and hurled him up, throwing him into the wall and forcing his head up. Orrien stepped forward but managed to catch himself. As much as he wanted to rip his heart out while it still beat for hurting his son, he couldn't. He could only watch. The consequences over his head were too great. He had to wait, bide his time until they could escape.

Orrien clenched his fists. Ro was so much more than that, so much more than the king would have them believe.

Ro hissed in pain, but he fought the urge to bring his hands up to try to get him off.

"It seems you think that you get an opinion on how things are run in my abode?" Halve snarled.

Ro struggled not to clench his jaw. "No, your majesty."

"That's right, because what are you?"

"A lowly soldier, your majesty."

Orrien knew Ro knew it wasn't the right answer, he knew saying it would lead to pain and consequences but in that moment, he just didn't seem to care. Orrien's worry for his son spiked. It was right to.

The King's grip increased as he slammed Ro's head off the wall. Orrien winced on Ro's behalf.

"And what is he?" he said, pointing to Avizon's weak form.

"He's suffering. He was dying after the princesses most recent punishment. A punishment he received because we informed you of the stab wound he had received."

Another slam into the wall. "I don't care! What is he?!"

Ro probably had so many answers in the tip of his tongue but none of them were the answer the king wanted. Orrien hated this. Having to watch his own son suffer so. He felt like a failure of a father. He should have been able to protect him. Why couldn’t he do anything?!

Another slam, hard enough to draw a hiss from the back of Ro's throat.

Orrien flinched badly but looked away, his body tense. He was the castle's sorcerer, a massive defense they relied upon, yet he was powerless to stop it, to stop him hurting his own son.

The king suddenly punched Ro in the gut, or so Orrien thought until he heard Ro cry out.

"He is MINE. And so are you, my pretty little soldier boy. I expect to see you tonight. Your loose tongue has earned your far more punishment than this." Orrien felt sick to the stomach at his words, knowing his only son, the joy of his life would have to willingly go and suffer more.

But then he saw it, the small hilt protruding from his body, the knife that was buried in his side. Orrien struggled to hold back the magic that sprung to his hands on instinct. This wasn't right! Why couldn't he do anything?!

“Ro!“ he cried.

The king hit his head off the wall behind him for a fifth time, and that was enough to steal away his consciousness. He slid down the wall and slumped on the floor.

Ro wheezed as the knife was yanked out of his body. Tears obscured his vision.

"Y.yes, your majesty," he gulped.

The king turned to look at Orrien's pale face, the horror etched into his features. "Teach your son, scum, or I will do it for you."

Orrien bit back a storm of screams and spells he longed to use on the man. "Yes, your majesty, please forgive my incompetence."

The king scoffed. "Had he not said such things, I would have come here to offer help. Remind him of that when he wakes, will you?"

And just like that he was gone, finally allowing Orrien to rush to his boy, to save him.

Don't lie to my face, scum, Orrien thought but he kept those thoughts to himself.

"Yes, your majesty."

#Cloudwalker series #whump #tw: grief #though it's brief #royal whumper #Avizon #Ro #Orrien #there'll be 2 or 3 more parts for Avizon's backstory I think #but I think it's good #the boi needs a big hug

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

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Two of Souls

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

Ohhhh boy this is a long one. And there’s not even that much action! I started out intending it to be some catching up with the boys and some exposition, but shit happens, I guess. Hopefully it’s as interesting to others as it is to me haha. So now that the boys are in this supposedly safe place with the magicians, what’s next? What’s the deal with those strings? And what about Jackie and Marvin? Find out here!

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One | Season Two

Previous Season Three stories: Torn Apart | Tales to Tell | Threads | Twice Bitten, Never Shy

Taglist (finally): @bupine @violet--majesty @ari-trash

With a small ding! the doors to the elevator opened, and Jack stepped out onto the ground floor. He looked left, then right, then down at the note in his hand. ‘Investigating Storage Room 1, first floor, 3:00. On the right side, look for nameplate.’

They’d been in the Sanctuary for almost two weeks now. There had been no sign of trouble, but none of them had dared leave the building anyway. The result was a mixture of stress and boredom. But yesterday, something finally happened. Yvonne met with them and said that the magicians had finally gotten around to analyzing the strings. After some talking, Jack had volunteered to meet up with the magicians and relay the information back to the others. Of course, now that he was here he was feeling somewhat nervous, but he pushed that aside.

Folding the note and putting it in his pocket, Jack turned right and soon found the door they had directed him to, identifiable by a nameplate on the wall nearby. At a glance, it didn’t look too different from any other door in the Sanctuary. It didn’t have any of the numbers that the hotel-like rooms did, but then again, not all of them did. He wouldn’t have paid any attention to it at all, which might’ve been the point.

After a couple seconds, the door opened, revealing Delyth standing there. “Oh good, you’re here,” she said. “You’re early.”

Jack laughed nervously. “Well, I wanted to make sure, y’know? Is being early a problem?”

“No, not at all. Please, come inside.” Delyth stepped away so that Jack could walk into the room, closing the door behind him as soon as he had.

Contrary to its door, the room beyond was much stranger than the rest of the Sanctuary. It was dimly lit, with only a few lamps dangling from the ceiling casting concentrated beams of yellow light onto the floor. Not that there was much floor space at all. The room was filled with boxes. Neatly stacked, bigger ones on the bottom, all made out of metal with a coppery sheen. Each box had a label and what looked like a colorful warning symbol, like the sort that was put onto hazardous materials. Jack couldn’t remember if the symbol had a specific name, but he remembered it was a diamond made of four colors. These symbols were similar, except they were circular, divided into four colorful sections with another circle in the center.

In the middle of the room was a table. Delyth was quick to guide Jack over towards it. Yvonne was already there, as well as an older man with dark hair and a beard, both of which looked like they’d been hit by lightning. The man was wearing a coat that was decorated like a labcoat, but dark blue and with a symbol of a four-pointed star on the lapel. Oh the table was one of the coppery boxes, about the size and shape of a shoebox, and a strange device with several large lenses attached.

“Jack, this is Mr. Griffin, he’s one of the wizards studying at this Sanctuary,” Delyth explained.

“Pleasure to meet you, young man,” the older man said in a precise British accent.

Jack couldn’t help but stare. “Uh, yeah, the pleasure’s all mine. You...you’re a wizard, then?”

“I’m not what you were expecting, I understand,” Griffin laughed. “It’s alright, I get that reaction a lot, I’m very used to it.”

Jack laughed a bit as well. “Well, as long as I’m not the first.” He sighed, then returned to the seriousness of the moment. “Anyway, what’ve you found?”

“Well, I’ve examined these strings—”

“We’ve examined them,” Yvonne interrupted. “I helped, don’t forget.”

“Yes, Bell has been very helpful,” Delyth said, sounding as though she’d rather not admit it. “Her knowledge as a soul magician is valuable.”

Yvonne puffed herself up proudly.

“Anyway, we’ve examined them,” Griffin continued. He tapped the side of the box, and Jack leaned forward to look at it. The box actually had a lid, though he hadn’t noticed it since it was made of glass, giving a clear look into the inside of the box. The strings tangled about, writhing like worms and slamming against the sides. “These are not actually physical strings.”

“They’re not physical?” Jack asked, confusion obvious. “But...they can, like, touch things. Interact with them.”

“That’s true, but they’re not made of actual matter,” Griffin explained. “You see, magic can become solid, if concentrated enough. So they’re more like energy than anything else.”

“I...but...isn’t there a thing about how you can’t touch energy? Isn’t that what e=mc2 is all about? Something like that?”

“Magic follows its own rules,” Delyth said. “Just accept that if you take enough magic together, it can become a tangible thing.”

Jack nodded slowly. He figured it was best not to think about this too much. “Okay. So they’re just magic?”

“They’re more than just magic, actually,” Griffin said, suddenly grave. “They’re very dark magic.”

Delyth nodded. “From what we’ve figured out, the strings were most likely caused by a black magic spell backfiring. Terribly backfiring.” She sighed. “That’s the cost of dark magic. It may seem easy, but when it goes wrong, it goes wrong in a big way. Not to mention the effect it’ll have on a magician’s mind and soul.”

“A spell backfiring...” Jack muttered. “We...thought that Marvin and Jackie cast a spell. And we thought that it went wrong, too.” He paused. “Transference.”

“It’s all my fault!” Yvonne suddenly blurted out. She slammed her hands on the table, looking pale. “That book was in my shop. Marvin saw it, he wanted to borrow it, and I-I didn’t think anything of it! When he gave it back, it looked fine, but he could’ve easily copied—”

“Bell!” Delyth looked shocked. “You had a book with a transference spell in your shop?”

“Yeah,” Yvonne mumbled. “I thought it would sell for a lot. I never would’ve dreamed it could lead to all...all this. If I knew, I never would’ve stocked it.”

“You shouldn’t have been selling a book with that spell in the first place!” Delyth scolded. “Think of all the harm it could do!”

“Well, it’s not really my fault if someone wants to buy it, is it, Mae?” Yvonne said angrily. “If someone showed up looking for a book like that, then they knew exactly what they were doing. There are warnings with each spell and they’re very descriptive, if anything happened, it was on them!” She stopped, then slowly deflated. “At least, that’s what I thought at the time. If I knew...if I knew...”

“There’s never just one person responsible for a spell backfiring,” Griffin said. “Nor the consequences of it. Your Marvin friend shouldn’t have used the spell in the first place.”

Yvonne took a deep, shaky breath. “A-anyway, that’s what the strings are probably from. That spell going tops-up.”

Jack was silent for a moment, watching the strings in the box as they wriggled. “But...okay, if they’re just magic, that’s fine. But why are they moving? Why do they...it seems like they always make a beeline for Jackie and Marvin, why is that?”

“Ah. Well...” Griffin paused, stroking his beard. “This is where Ms. Bell comes into play.”

“Right.” Yvonne straightened her shoulders, collecting herself. “Jack, this—” She patted the device with the lenses “—is one of the many tools we use in soul magic. We, uh, don’t really know what souls are, to be honest. But we know that with this, we can at least see them. It helps us visualize souls into something more...tangible.” She slid two of the lenses into place and angled them so that Jack could look through them at the strings. “Go on, have a peek.”

Jack hesitated, then leaned over. He gasped. His view of the strings had suddenly been magnified by a thousand percent. He could see that the glowing strings were actually woven together of smaller threads, which appeared translucent when looked at individually. Caught in the woven threads, too small for anyone to see with the naked eye, were tiny, broken lights. Blue and red. They couldn’t have been bigger than dust motes, and there weren’t that many of them, but they shined with light.

“This is...kinda fucked up, honestly,” Yvonne said. “The bits of light you’re now seeing are actually bits of...soul.”

“Holy fuck...” Jack had to take a step back.

“I used a similar device to look at Marvin when he was at my flat,” Yvonne explained. “And his soul looked...broken. My only thought is that when he and Jackie performed the transference, both their souls were broken. And bits of them got mixed in with these strings, which must be the magic cast by the transference. It probably had nowhere to go, so it solidified.”

“That...that must be the case,” Jack breathed. “I mean, they’re even the same colors.”

Silence.

Jack, noticing the sudden quiet, looked around. All the magicians were staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“What do you mean...colors?” Delyth asked.

“The, uh, the lights are red and blue. Just like Marvin and Jackie’s souls,” Jack explained.

“Wh—” Yvonne choked.

“You can...can you see souls?” Griffin asked.

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Jack tapped the area below his left eye. “Only with this eye, though. JJ and I think that when he used his magic to replace the one I lost, it kind of overcompensated.”

“And...these souls have colors?” Griffin asked again, looking very interested in this.

“Yeah. Of course.” Jack looked back and forth at the others. “Are they...not supposed to?”

“Even with the Lens, all souls appear colorless,” Yvonne said in a hushed tone. “Even to soul magicians like me. They’re all...white light.”

“Oh. I guess...I’m special, then? Because they definitely have color to me.” Jack closed his right eye. “Yeah, I can see all yours now. Delyth’s is purple like her magic, Yvonne’s is blue with a bit of purple, Mr. Griffin’s is bright, and I mean bright, yellow, and mine is green. Huh. Also all yours are kinda...sparkly? Mine isn’t. Yours kinda looks like how JJ’s is, but different.”

“Wait, can you see—are you maybe seeing our magic?” Griffin gasped. “That’s incredible!”

“Uh, thanks, I guess. I had no say in it.” Jack opened his eye and laughed. “It’s a bit ironic that I can see all these colors and you guys can’t, I’m actually slightly colorblind.”

“Okay, but the soul bits in the strings match Marvin’s and Jackie’s,” Yvonne hurried to say. “The colors here are the same as the colors of their souls?”

“Yeah.”

“That confirms it, then,” Delyth nodded. “The strings are attracted to them due to having parts of them inside. They want to be reunited.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing in principle,” Yvonne said slowly. “Except for the fact that Marvin got a lot more angry and attack-y once some of those strings got together with him.”

“I suspect that’s the black magic,” Griffin said.

“Okay, but is there any way to get rid of them?” Jack asked, a desperate note in his voice. “These fucking strings are causing all sorts of trouble.”

“Hmm.” Griffin furrowed his brow and looked up at the ceiling. “I know we looked into that, but I think I left the notes in the other room.” He reached down and tapped the top of the box. It turned an opaque, coppery color, the same as all the rest. “I could go get them now, if you’d like.”

“Nah, that’s fine, I could go get them if you want.” Jack took a few steps back.

“Oh. Well, if you’re offering, then that would be great, thank you,” Griffin nodded. “They should be next door, in the Investigative Room. I doubt I left them in a drawer or anywhere, so they’re probably out on a surface.”

“Alright.” Jack turned around. “I’ll see you later, then.” He hurried to leave. Those strings...he wasn’t eager to spend much more time with them.

— — — — — — —

There was a wide open area in the basement of the Sanctuary. At first glance, it looked like a gymnasium, except without the bleachers and basketball hoops. It was also much bigger, with a small climbing wall at one end, an archery shooting range at the other, and a wall in between lined with strange perforations. Delyth explained it was made for agents who wanted to practice spells in their spare time. However, it had sat empty for the entire time they’d been here. But that was fine. Schneep actually preferred it empty.

He pushed open the doors to the room, automatically tensing, searching for anyone. He didn’t think anyone was there. Or at the very least, that strange sixth sense that let him know when people were around was telling him the room was empty as always. He sighed, relaxing, and walked into the approximate center of the room.

Now that things were relatively peaceful—well, actually, that was a stretch, it was better phrased as “now that there was no one actively trying to kill them”—he’d thought it would be best to practice this magic of his. Strange, how things had changed to the point where he readily accepted his new magical abilities, when just a few years ago he would’ve denied it to the ends of the earth. Schneep laughed to himself. Well, time flies.

He started this practice by summoning and vanishing his scissors a couple times. It was still unclear where they came from and went off to when he wasn’t using them. All he knew was that if he reached to the side he could feel their handles, seemingly hovering in midair right where he needed them. Perhaps the scissors were stored in some sort of pocket dimension that only he could access.

What was interesting was that other things could come from this pocket dimension. Shortly after arriving at the Sanctuary and getting frustrated with the unfamiliar layout, Schneep had wished for something that could help him know where things were. He’d reached out, and suddenly found something there. A long, thin stick, that could extend in length. Bringing it to Jack confirmed his suspicions: it was a cane. Exactly what he’d needed. Unusual, he thought, that he’d found it at the exact moment he was thinking about it. Perhaps the pocket dimension could provide what he wanted? But it didn't provide anything other than the scissors and the cane so far. Well, he was still working on that theory.

Second matter of business. Simple jumps, to get him warmed up. That was what he decided to call this teleporting or whatever it was. The act of walking somewhere and having the world around him change, so he was somewhere else entirely. It was sort of like portals, except Schneep didn’t need a fancy gun to jump, he just did it at will.

He jumped back and forth across the width of the room a couple times, touching the wall to orient himself. Then across the length. Then from corner to corner. He never really got tired from the jumping. And last practice, he realized it didn’t even need to be on solid ground. Though that had been an accident, and he’d ended up landing flat on his face. Moments like that were why he practiced alone.

Schneep paused for a moment, reaching out to feel the base of the climbing wall. Perhaps...? Bracing himself, he took a step forward, and ended up not on the floor, but falling through the air. Fear instantly shot through him, and he waved his arms wildly until his hands brushed against something. That texture—! He tried to grab, and—

“Ow!” Schneep gasped. His arm felt like it was being yanked out of its socket. His fall was suddenly stopped when he managed to find one of the climbing wall’s holds, but the sudden change of speed had caused a shot of pure pain through his shoulder. God, he hoped that wasn’t dislocated.

Kicking his legs a bit, he managed to jump back down to the floor, where he immediately started rubbing his shoulder. He’d been aiming for the flat bit at the top of the climbing wall, but it appeared he missed. Luckily he was close enough to find that hold, otherwise he’d have to deal with falling all the way to the floor. Even though the climbing wall was half the size of most, it was still twenty feet tall.

Schneep didn’t allow himself to pause. He wanted to try one more thing before stopping for the day. Walking over to the side, he found the perforated wall of the gym area, and walked along it until he found a control panel. There was a touchscreen on it, which wasn’t much use to him, but there was also a button and a dial. He’d asked Delyth about it earlier, and she explained the button was to start or stop the “course” and the dial was to time it, with the maximum being thirty minutes. Twisting the dial, he set it to about five minutes, then hit the button.

“Projectile training course set for: four minutes.” An automated voice rang out through the gym area. “There is: one minute before start time.”

“Alright, here we go.” Schneep took a deep breath, and jumped back to the middle of the room, tensing with anxiety. He’d have to be careful here.

“Thirty seconds remaining before the projectile course fires,” said the automated voice. Then after a while. “Ten seconds remaining. Nine. Eight.”

Schneep bounced on his feet, ready to move at any moment.

“Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three.”

There was a slight humming sound coming from the wall. He braced himself.

“Two. One. Firing.”

The darts of magic started to fire, each hole making a chnk! sound as they shot and the darts themselves causing a whhst! sound as they passed through the air. Schneep started moving, listening carefully for the noise of each one firing and flying forward. He started running, then skidded to a halt as there was a chnk! from a space near him. The dart whizzed past his face in a gust of air. He ducked just in time to avoid another, then turned around and jumped to what sounded like a safe spot.

Four minutes was not a very long time, but it certainly felt that way as Schneep dodged, ducked, and jumped across the room. He tried not to think too much, just listen and notice the small signs of the nearby darts. Eventually he got into a rhythm, jumping whenever he heard several chnk!s in the area around him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Soon, one of the darts hit him in the leg and broke his concentration. “Ah!” He instinctively leaned down to clutch at the spot, but that just brought him right into the path of another whhst! “Fick!” And everything broke down from there as a quick barrage of about a dozen darts soon knocked him to the ground. He jumped to another area, only to get knocked right in the chest the moment he arrived and knocked down once again.

“Projectile course finished,” the automated voice said. “Thank you for participating.” A loud beep signaled the end of the course.

Schneep sighed. He wasn’t sure what those darts were, other than pure magic, but he knew that they hurt. It reminded him of the time Chase had dragged him to a paintball match, and he was sure that there would be similar bruises left over. Wincing, he climbed to his feet. “Need more practice on that,” he said to himself.

Well, there was always tomorrow. He turned and headed for the nearest wall, following it to the exit.

— — — — — — —

“Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase.”

Ignoring the repeated, nagging sound of his own name, Chase rolled over and pulled the blanket over his face. What time was it? Probably sometime in the afternoon, judging by the light coming in from the bedroom window. Also, who opened the window? The curtains at the Sanctuary were pretty good for blocking out light, they must be open if he could see light even behind his eyelids. Good thing this bed had thick blankets, too.

“Chase. Chase. Chase.” Now something was poking him with every repetition. It soon became something shaking him. “Chase. Chase.”

Finally realizing he wasn’t going to stop, Chase groaned and pushed away the covers. He opened his eyes and looked over to see Jackie standing by the side of the bed. Staring at him. Was he...was he there the whole night? Because apparently he didn’t sleep anymore—or at least, not as much, and not when Chase or JJ were watching. The thought was...disturbing. “What is it, Jackie?” he asked, sighing.

Jackie didn’t answer for a while, just blinked. It was a solid thirty seconds before he asked, “When are we leaving?”

Chase had been about to go back to sleep, but that question sent a shot of nerves through his heart that woke him right up. “Um...I don’t know. Wh-why? Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I need to find the rest of us,” Jackie said insistently. “I know I’m out there, but I can’t tell where.”

“...right.” Chase sat up. “Well, uh...I mean, is this really that importa—”

“Yes.”

Chase fell silent. There were moments when Jackie just acted a bit unusual, but there were also too many moments like this, moments that left him with a crawling feeling across his skin, and he could see how Jackie was once part of Anti. “Um...okay.” Chase inched away. “Well, I don’t know when we’re leaving, so don’t ask me.”

Jackie looked disappointed, but wandered away to look out the window. Chase paused, then glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:00 on the dot. He sighed. It was pretty late, but given how he hadn’t gone to bed until six in the morning last night and had trouble getting to sleep once he did, he wanted to pull the covers up and try to get another hour or two. But he was also pretty hungry, so he should get some food while he had the energy to. So he climbed out of bed and left the room.

The magicians had been providing them with groceries when they asked, as well as anything else they needed. Chase left the bedroom, waving a hello to JJ sitting on the living area’s sofa, and headed straight for the kitchenette. He opened one of the cupboards and took out a box of cereal. The brand was unfamiliar, something generic and probably store-brand, but the bits of cereal were coated in sugar and that’s what mattered. He took out a bowl and spoon and poured.

“You should take a shower.”

Chase yelped, spilling some of the cereal, and looked up to see Jackie had followed him and was now standing in the middle of the living room and watching him. “Jesus, don’t do that,” Chase breathed, setting down the cereal box.

“I don’t think you’ve used the shower since we’ve been here,” Jackie continued. “That’s not good.”

“Uhh...” Chase leaned to the side so he could see JJ around Jackie.

JJ set down his book—something that Yvonne had given him a few days ago—and said, Well he’s not wrong. But anyway, can you handle this right now?

Chase nodded slowly, then leaned back into place and looked at Jackie. “I think I’m fine, Jackie. It’s not like I smell or anything. Uh...right?”

“You lie in bed a lot,” Jackie said bluntly. “Has that always been a thing with you? I think it has, for some time. I remember that. You should at least move to somewhere else. Actually use the other rooms.”

And then sometimes there were these moments. Moments where Jackie seemed almost normal, talking in the same way and giving the same advice he did years ago, before that black magic spell had killed him and created Anti. Honestly, these moments made the whole situation creepier. Chase took a moment to respond. “Well...maybe I will take a shower, then.”

“That’s a start.” Jackie’s eyes slowly drifted to the side, and then he turned away, walking around the room in an aimless manner.

JJ waved in Chase’s direction for his attention. You alright?

Chase let out a breath, and nodded. Yeah, I’m fine. He responded in sign. They’d learned from experience over the last two weeks that Jackie would butt in on the conversation if Chase started talking out loud.

Jameson raised an eyebrow. His expression was hard to read under his new mask—this one was black, and had also been provided by the magicians once he’d asked for one—but if Chase had to guess, it was probably concerned. I was thinking maybe if we switched places, he might give you a break.

You mean if you pretended to be me? I’m pretty sure he’d be able to tell. We have some very obvious identifying features.

JJ huffed. I suppose you’re right. And we can’t get Jack or Henrik to do that, since the same can be said for them. Maybe if Henrik covered up his scars?

I get the feeling he’d be able to tell anyway. Chase sighed, and headed for the fridge, grabbing the milk. He was turning back around when he noticed it. Jackie had suddenly stopped walking and was now standing, shoulders tensed, in the middle of the room. “Um...Jackie? Are you alright?”

Jackie didn’t respond. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked right to the door, opening it and leaving the room.

“Wh—Jackie!” Chase put the milk down on the nearest counter, JJ stood up, and the two of them quickly followed him into the hallway.

Jackie had taken a turn to the left, moving quickly and purposefully towards the stairs at the end of the hall. “Hey! Jackie!” Chase and JJ broke into a run. Jackie glanced over his shoulder, then started sprinting as well, reaching the stairwell in no time.

“Stop!” Chase paused in the entrance to the stairwell, watching as Jackie ran down the stairs two at a time. “Where the hell are you going?!”

JJ pulled up next to him. Should I stop him? He flicked his fingers, making a blue disc of magic appear.

Chase shook his head. “No, let’s follow him first.” And they started running again.

Jackie headed down all three flights of stairs to the ground floor, pausing for a moment as if getting his bearings before taking the right hallway. “Wh...what?” Chase panted. That hallway would only lead deeper into the Sanctuary. What could he possibly want down here? He glanced over at JJ, who looked just as confused.

From farther down the hall, they heard a “What the—” and then someone screamed.

Jameson’s eyes widened. Isn’t that—

Chase immediately broke into a dead sprint.

Farther down the hall, a door was swinging wildly, and someone was lying on the floor as if they’d been knocked over. A few loose papers were scattered around. Chase gasped. “Jack!” He hurried to his friend’s side and helped him stand up. “Are you okay?!”

“Fine,” Jack said shortly, rubbing his arm. “Was that—was Jackie just here?”

“Yeah, ran all the way down here,” Chase said. “What were you doing here?”

“It was that thing, that thing about the, uh, strings,” Jack explained.

Jameson, having just caught up in time to hear that statement, looked shocked. He whirled towards the swinging door and grabbed hold of it, rushing inside.

“Did he go in there?” Chase asked, also pointing at the door.

“Uh, I think so?” Jack gasped slightly. “But that’s where—”

A loud clattering sound came from inside. Jack and Chase glanced at each other, then ducked into the room.

Inside, Jackie was struggling with the three magicians already inside. Yvonne had her arms wrapped around his, while Delyth’s eyes were lit up purple and her hands held out in a defensive position. Griffin clutched the copper box with the strings inside, holding it protectively while JJ covered him with a shield. A stack of other boxes had been knocked over and were now strewn across the floor.

“What’s going—Jackie, stop!” Chase stepped in front of Jack. “You’ll hurt them!”

“I d̛on't ̛ca̛rè,” Jackie hissed. “Give me back!”

“You two get out of here!” Delyth said to Jack and Chase. “This could get messy.”

“No—” Jack started to protest.

There was a flash of red light, and Yvonne suddenly cried out. She stumbled backward, now bleeding from a cut that had appeared across the left side of her face. With his arms free, Jackie lunged towards Jameson and Griffin, eyes fixed on the box. Jameson threw his hands forward, and the shield expanded outward, pushing Jackie to the ground. He hissed again and made a sharp gesture. A slice of red light cut through the air and right through Jameson’s shield, making it flicker and die. Jackie started forward again, only for Delyth to block him with a crystalline shield of her own.

“Fuck this!” Yvonne wiped the blood out of her eye and lunged right at Jackie, managing to grab him again. He shrieked, the sound full of rage, and more red light flashed. Yvonne suddenly dropped again. She clutched her leg, which was now bleeding.

“I said for you to get out!” Delyth snarled. “This is danger—”

There was a sudden, almost inaudible snap! sound, and then there was another person in the room. Schneep appeared directly behind Jackie, hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of a cane. Jackie crumpled to the floor, clearly breathing but now unconscious. Schneep let out a long breath. “Please say that was the correct thing to do,” he muttered.

“Hen! That was—where’d you come from?” Jack gasped.

“I was passing by,” he explained. “On the way to the elevator back to the rooms, which may I say, very inconvenient to have an elevator just to get to the basement, but it worked out this time. I could tell there was a fight, so I decided to step in.”

“Wait, how’d you know to hit Jackie?” Delyth asked, lowering her shield. “I thought you were blind.”

“I am. Do you not see this?” Schneep waved the cane in her general direction. “But it seems part of my magic is knowing where people are. And who they are, too. Which is very lucky.”

Jameson clapped his hands for attention. May I suggest we continue this conversation after getting this young lady some medical care?

“Yes, great suggestion,” Yvonne said. “I am bleeding quite significantly.” Her tone said it was a joke but her face betrayed her real worry.

Delyth sighed. “Yes, of course. There’s a small clinic with supplies further down the hall. We’ll finish this up in there.”

— — — — — — —

It didn’t take too long for them all to relocate to the clinic and get Yvonne taken care of. They also took Jackie there as well, setting him down on one of the clinic’s three beds. Once Yvonne’s wounds were wrapped up, everyone immediately returned to the matter at hand. Chase and JJ explained how Jackie had suddenly left the room and ran downstairs, and Jack told the others the information about the strings he’d found out just before Jackie appeared.

“Did he somehow sense the strings, perhaps?” Schneep speculated. “But then why hadn’t he reacted before? They’ve been here the whole time.”

“That may be my fault,” Griffin admitted. “The crates we keep magical artifacts in are designed to keep any magical signals from escaping, but if we need to look at them, the spell to make the crates transparent allows a small bit to get out.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ll have to add that warning to their container.”

“They weren’t even visible for that long,” Yvonne muttered. “And it sounds like Jackie realized they were here after barely a minute. Well, what d’you expect, when they’re part of his soul?”

“Can we talk about these soul strings in more detail?” Chase asked. “Like, for example...how do we get rid of them?”

“Oh, I-I still have those notes I was supposed to get.” Jack reached into his hoodie pocket and took out some crumpled pieces of paper. “Sorry, I kinda...dropped them when Jackie pushed me away, then didn’t really pay too much attention when I picked them up.”

“It’s fine, just hand them over.” Griffin held out his hand, and Jack passed over the papers. He began uncrumpling them.

What do you think will happen to the parts of their souls that are stuck inside the strings? JJ asked, his expression drawn and worried. Will they disappear? Would that hurt? Jack translated for the part of the room that didn’t understand sign.

“That’s a...very good question,” Delyth said. “Bell?”

“Don’t ask me, Mae, this has never happened before!” Yvonne said defensively. “Maybe we could ask the guy with deus ex soul vision.”

Jack hesitated. “Maybe...the bits will just go back to the full person?” he suggested tentatively “I mean, it’s hard to know which ones belong to who, since whenever I look at Marvin and Jackie their colors are all mixed up—”

Yvonne’s head shot up. “Wait, does that mean their souls are mixed up?!” she shrieked.

“Well, I think...” Jack trailed off. “I...hadn’t thought of...”

Silence fell in the room, only broken by the occasional ruffle of paper as Griffin continued to smooth them out. “Well, I...suppose that makes...sense,” Schneep said haltingly. “Jackie has...abilities now. Magic. He never had them before. If magic is in the soul, perhaps having bits of Marvin gave him...some of that?”

“But is there a way to undo it, then?” Chase asked with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. “Is there a way to make them better?”

More silence. Everyone looked at Yvonne, the only soul magician, but she had nothing to offer, so she looked over at Griffin. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Well...I’m sorry, but I don’t think so,” he said as gently as possible.

Chase’s expression visibly fell. Jameson, standing nearby, reached over, offering his hand. After a moment, Chase breathed in deeply, and took the hand. “Right. I guess...that was stupid to think.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Jack said gently. “It was hopeful, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But there may be a way to improve this situation a bit,” Delyth suddenly said. “The strings...they’re black magic, and I don’t doubt that’s affecting your friends. If we get rid of them, perhaps we could stop them from being so oddly hostile...and prevent this Anti from ever returning.”

Chase looked up, and slowly nodded. “Okay then. How do we do that?”

“It would need to be strong magic,” Griffin said, looking over his notes. “But it’s not impossible. We may be able to burn them with an intense blaze, freeze the spell inside, or take them apart until they cease to function...either way, I don’t think just one magician will have enough power for that on their own.”

“Okay, so we next work on figuring that out,” Schneep stated. “How? If you need help, I will offer.”

I will as well, JJ added.

“We’d need to try,” Griffin muttered. “Just...try many different things. That’s the only way I can see forward.”

“The old trial and error,” Yvonne said. “Well...I’ll help too, if you need it.”

Chase let out a long, long sigh. “I...I’m done for the day. This was a lot for just a few minutes, and I just woke up.”

“Oh yes, by all means, all of you return to what you were doing,” Delyth said. “We’ll come tell you if we need anything, and remember you can ask us for anything as well.”

And slowly, they dispersed. Chase and JJ took Jackie back up to their room, while Jack and Schneep returned to theirs. Yvonne remained in the clinic for a while longer before retreating to her room, too. Nobody said anything as they left.

There was no way to reverse this. The fact was slowly sinking in to all of them. Whatever Jackie and Marvin had done, it could not be undone.

Yet maybe, just maybe, they could salvage something from this.

Just maybe.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #brigid writes fanfiction #the stitched septics #stitchedstories

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972 @ultraluckycatnd @donteattheappleshook) and Art by @kmomof4

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2

Chapter 2 - House Evil Spirits to appease of,

Part of Emma was coming to terms with the new fact that she was pregnant, then just as rapidly she reverts back through the cycle of grief, sometimes not in order. The doctor had warned her this would happen when she announced that they would be keeping her for overnight observation as a safety precaution, dropping the news that her new pregnancy hormones would also make her feel even more upside down then she had ever imagined. It was one thing to be told, but feeling it was another thing entirely.

She had gone from laughing at the breakfast menu she was handed to crying over grilled cheese not being an option, to enraged at being brought bright blue jello with her 'breakfast sandwich' made of bologna and eggs. They could not have known the intense reaction the jiggling neon goo would have given her, her magic flaring and sputtering in turn as she launched it away from her. But then again, she doubted any of the staff had spent time in a No-Magic cell. Nausea bloomed as soon as rage subsided, the food on the plastic tray too similar to what had been served to her over those long years locked away.

Now irritation was playing through multiple emotions, a new nurse violently poking her with a needle, and running some sort of IV.

"You're giving me what -"

"A hormone treatment, and a magic suppressant."

"But I need my magic -"

"Would you prefer to shrivel up and die? You'll still have enough to do daily witch activities or whatever. This helps keep the extra at bay, and your baby healthy. It needs your magic."

"Oh. Great." She laughed, half crazed at the news and the nurse's treatment. "Just great."

"Mess with their kind, and well." She shrugged, eyeing Emma's body. "An Angel wouldn't do that to you. A Vampire couldn't, and the rest of 'em could, but you wouldn't have to suffer through all this nasty magic aftermath. You're just early enough for a termination though, thank Merlin."

"I didn't do this to myself on purpose . This was never supposed to happen, at least not like this…"

"Sure." The nurse rolled her eyes as she drew out the word, clearly being condescending. "It's never the Witch’s fault; I hear it every time I'm fixing them for blowing themselves in half for not reading a spell right. You play with dark magic, there's a cost."

Emma scowled, hot tears starting and streaming down her cheeks. Her anger and ferocity that was there just moments before had evaporated without warning into a deep resignation.

"Can my brother come to see me yet?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"After they question you, sure. He can come pick you up - You're done here." The nurse pulled off the empty bag from the IV stand, throwing it in the trash.

The doctor entered, waving a hello. Emma did not notice her, too busy staring at her bump. She joined the nurse as a machine beeped, helping to take out her IV and the pads on her belly. When that was done, Emma sat up, wobbling from her strange new center of gravity.

The doctor smiled at her kindly. "We'll have your test results in a few days to a week's time. You'll feel strange and sluggish the first few weeks as your body catches up to the rapid growth, your hormones, the magic, so on and so forth. From there, you may actually start to grow as normal until you'll need the next dose of suppression. We'll schedule that out for 4 months from now, checking in monthly, but if you grow suddenly, shrink suddenly, your extremities swell, or you begin to exhibit flu like symptoms, come in immediately. If anything seems off, just give us a call. We have a twenty-four seven nurse line should you have any other questions. Good luck!"

The doctor left without much more than a precursory glance back.

Snapping her gloves, the nurse glared over her glasses at Emma. "Leave when you are ready. We got you a different outfit; it's amongst your personals there."

The nurse left in a hurry, leaving Emma to dress herself in a large pair of green hospital scrubs, her new figure completely foreign as she rubbed her hands across the smooth skin. Her once flat stomach was distended, a slight curve that pushed out stretched skin. Her clothes in the plastic bag they had given her were dirty and looked damp. The clothing she was given would have been a small comfort if the stiff fabric didn't feel so much like her old prison uniform.

"Fuck," Emma choked out, gripping the chair for support. She felt dizzy, absolutely nauseated at the idea of a baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. Something in her felt warmth at the idea, a strange, creeping feeling of rightness mixed with calm. The rest of her wanted to claw at her skin, urging her to wake up from this horrible dream.

Every time she closed her eyes, she fervently wished this wrongness was a hallucination. But it wasn't; she was still swaying on her feet every time she opened her eyes again. This wasn't some sort of nightmare, there was a baby, some creature's inhuman child inside her. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Tears began to prick behind her eyes, her face heating as she sat down on the hospital bed with her head cradled in her hands.

( You can't cry over this. This happened because of your shady dealings.

You got a firstborn child alright. Yours. )

Swallowing hard, Emma tried to banish the thoughts bombarding her.

( A baby. A baby you can love and hold, who you will never abandon. Someone you can raise the way you weren't, a second chance. Put your armor back on - for you and your child. )

Emma bit her lip hard, swiping angrily at her tears. Bottling up the emotions, she took a breath, grabbed her purse, and walked down the hallway. To her great surprise, Elsa was waiting.

"Emma, oh my stars. This is - I have no words. I'm so sorry," Elsa whispered. Emma gave a half hearted shrug, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Yeah. Well. Can I go home yet? That's why you're here right?" Emma hated the anxious, pleading edge of her tone.

"No, not yet. You have to be interviewed by the inspector detective here and then you are free to go." Elsa approached and hugged Emma softly. "I got you a nice one though, he's one of my favorites. Jones. He's an Angel - literally and figuratively. He's saved me on so many cases, I can't help but sing his praise."

"Oh Elsa. Thank you." Emma hugged her friend tightly, both of them trembling. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Elsa scoffed. "I don't know what anyone would do. Joking aside, we are all going to be here for you, no matter what happens. It's not going to be like last time." Elsa pushed back a strand of Emma's hair, looking straight into her eyes. "You won't go through this alone. We're going to fight for you, and figure this out. Luckily, our major project is postponed anyway. Until they find the Demon Prince, the council is on a hiatus."

"I just want to go home. I don't know if I can handle everyone right now." Emma mumbled. "It's bad enough David probably knows, which means Snow and everyone else -"

"Please don't push us away, Emma. We know it's a lot, but going into the unknown like this," Elsa took one of Emma's hands, squeezing it lightly. "Having a family, having faith and love - it's the only way to get through."

"Miss Frost," a low voice called from a room nearby. Elsa led Emma to a small office, smiling at the large Angel who stood on one side of a desk. He returned her smile, until Emma met his eyes. His frown was slow, not suiting his features, even when his blue eyes sharply laser focused on Emma's rotund body. She could see his muscles tense, his golden tinged wings giving the smallest of flutters. "Miss Swan."

"I'll leave you both to it, then." Elsa smiled, inspector Jones weakly returning it as she closed the door to them.

Emma sat in the only chair on her side of the desk, landing with an audible noise in surprise. Her body was heavier now. Of course sitting felt wrong. Jones grunted before sitting in his chair, his presence formidable even with his wings unopened. He began jotting down notes, not looking up at her for a long, stretched pause of silence. Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, one foot bouncing on the floor.

"Stop that at once," Liam growled, his eyes narrowed.

Emma stopped, hissing out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I just -"

"How did this happen?" Liam interrupted, gesturing at her with clear disgust. "Dr. Mullins indicates it was against your will? You haven't been sexually active to induce conception? Explain."

"Well, I um -"

"And I must remind you Miss Swan," Liam grimaced, marking something on his paper. "Lying to me is a crime itself. Perjury."

"Yes, I uh - I know." Emma nodded with a gulp. She took a breath, centering herself, and began to tell him the entire story of what had taken place with Gothel. He listened in absolute silence, writing the entire time as his frown only deepened. When she had finished, he continued writing in the oppressive silence, until finally flicking his eyes up to glare at her again.

"Is that all, Miss Swan?"

"Yes, then I, um, got the cramps -"

"Spare me the sordid details of the consequences your illegal activity most likely caused," Liam drawled, sarcastically. He leveled his angry, burning gaze at her, and she felt like an animal being cornered by much larger prey. "Now, I have some questions for you. Answer to the best of your ability, but remember -"

"Do not lie, yeah I remember," Emma said softly.

"Who says you Witches can't be taught," Liam sneered, his voice mocking. Emma felt irritation bubble up in her gut, her surprise that Elsa liked this asshole rising. If he was a good inspector, Emma never wanted to meet a bad one. "Now. What exactly did this Gothel ask of you in exchange for her firstborn?"

"Youthful beauty and a long life, I think," Emma stated, thinking hard. "She wanted to be young forever. I told her that it wouldn't be instant or eternal, that she would have to wait. Now I know why it didn't bother her."

"Did she mention any other rituals, Miss Swan?" Liam asked.

"No, but she did say that she was in a time crunch." Emma shrugged slightly. "I don't know if that means anything."

Liam looked at her with more vehemence, still writing furiously. "Did you feel any effects at that time?"

"No, I was surprised I didn't with the amount of magic that detonated. I checked myself twice to make sure, once with a warding bind even." The strangeness of the situation and her clear confusion due to it made her voice sound foreign to Emma's own ears. Did he know how much she didn't want this? "Nothing. Then boom, today I - today this. She showed her true colors at the end, did an evil laugh and everything."

Liam hummed disapprovingly, looking over his notes. Flicking his eyes back to hers, he glared with contempt. "Let me make sure I have this all correct. So, you and this other Witch do a forbidden and illegal ritual -"

"I had no idea it was going to be this illegal, I swear!" Emma began to feel panic, her heart racing. "I thought I was helping -"

"Sure, sure, even though you already have a record -"

"That was - That was different, I was set up and I -"

"It seems like you are awfully good at being set up, Miss Swan. So what did you get out of this?" The inspector looked at her in disgust, folding his arms against his chest. "A Demon child to experiment on? Heightened powers?"

"No! No, I had no idea she would - I didn't know - I thought later on that she'd give me her unwanted child. I didn't want another kid to be unwanted. I didn't know the parentage - "

The inspector interrupted with a loud scoff, leaning forward and leering at her. "Likely bloody story."

"Detective Inspector Jones, I swear to you, I swear it - I had no idea what… I had no idea this would happen. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to get pregnant, I still don't know what to do."

"If it is a Demonic child, even only a half-breed, the best thing to do is give them up." Something painful twisted in her gut, a deep feeling of dread and wrongness.

"I can't, I want to think about it and wait to look at options -"

"You can . You should . It will get easier the longer you are separated from the leeching thing." Liam's sneer turned into a look of pure disgust. "Don't wait, and get it out of you before it completely ensnares you in its unholy thrall."

"It's a child, sir, and my choice. I'm not making any promises -"

"No Demon has ever been innocent, not even a baby. They are inherently selfish, cruel, and angry. Your mixed breed baby will be the same." Liam looked down at his feet, his fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice had lost the cruel edge, and Emma felt her superpower activate. He didn't believe what he was saying, and as she watched him, she noticed how tired he looked.

"Inspector, are... Are you alright?"

"Miss Swan," Liam chuckled darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing up to look at her. "If I was in your position, I would worry about myself, especially if jail time was on the table."

Emma felt as if he'd slapped her, air rushing from her lungs as her heart beat rapidly.

"Jail time?" She asked in disbelief, "What about Gothel? Why are you demonizing me -"

"That is government business, Miss Swan." Liam stood stiffly, rummaging in his pocket. He fished out a card, carefully sliding it on the table towards her. "If you remember anything, contact us. Otherwise, we will be in touch. I'll have the nurse give you the proper paperwork and instructional pamphlets."

He turned, pushed the curtain aside, and Emma heard a soft whoosh of air indicating his exit. Looking down at her body under the scrubs, she cursed Eloise with every fiber of her being.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The first few nights were a string of blurry, anger, and grief strewn rampages. Elsa has taken her home, Emma unwilling to let David even see her until she had some space to take care of herself. She had sent a text, and after a lot of back and forth arguing surrounding his lengthy replies, David had conceded.

(She just couldn't right now.

Not right now. Not yet.)

A Celestial, or something similar. Most likely Demon, he had said.

Gothel had not only gotten her pregnant, but with some Demon child that could be claimed by its monstrous father for who knew what awful reason. Emma shuddered at the thought, hands protectively resting on her small swell of stomach. Pulling them away as they trembled, she cursed her body and the invader that was making her feel so attached to it. Demons didn't exactly get along with any of the other demographics, but Witches and Demons had the most volatile relations amongst any of them. Her own child might grow to hate her, all because of how much Witches persecuted Demon kind.

She could still… No. She would not terminate the baby this far along. Every part of her vibrated with the wrongness of the very idea, sending her retching into the kitchen sink. She gripped both sides of the basin, crying hot, angry tears as she came to terms with the parasite - the baby, the small baby, the life - occupying her body. As much as she tried to hate it, the only hate she could muster fell on herself and Eloise.

Part of her felt crazed, crying in her bathtub, nauseated and afraid of every implication and outcome. Laying her head back on the tile, she wondered about what she was going to do. Rubbing her new bump slowly, Emma traced the curve. Sixteen months. A doubly long second trimester, and extended third, all while it changed with her body. Mixed children generally presented like their non-Demonic parent, and the pregnancy bond would be fierce regardless of species. Although it was doubtful at this point it was even in effect despite her behavior and thoughts, Emma smiled at the thought that she already felt attached to her baby. Her own family.

Her brother was going to go insane, and her sister-in-law… Snow was always supportive and full of a positive outlook. Emma had teased her that it was an Elf thing, but her pointed ears would twitch as she blushed, and she'd mumble something about her plants helping. Smoking her pungent blends of cannabis could make anyone positive, and Emma was suddenly envious.

Regina and the coven would be on the defensive, taking over everything in Emma's life without quarter. That would be another comfort, their careful planning and patience having gotten her this far through her difficult life.

In the end, the coven, Ruby, and Snow were over shortly after her emergency summons, flying through her doorway. Ruby was a Werewolf Emma had befriended through Snow. While Regina disliked her, Emma didn't think she was any different than most humans other than her keen sense of smell and bluntness. It was these traits that immediately made it clear what was wrong. It would seem not everyone in their circles knew yet. That would take a few more days.

“Emma,” Ruby whispered, horrified, her nose wrinkling as tears filled her eyes. “What did… Who did this to you?”

"They think it is a Demon, but it's almost definitely Celestial, or something with a dynamic gestational period due to magic." Just behind Ruby, the rest of the coven began appearing, all staring on her porch as Emma ushered them in. "Until I find out the father, I don't know, although most likely it's Demonic."

Regina's head snapped up. “A Demon? Emma, what do you mean dynamic -”

The women went quiet when Emma lifted her shirt to show them her bump, explaining everything.

Emma laid her head in Snow’s lap after, feeling numb. Snow stroked her hair gently, looking at the others. Their coven was small, mostly women, but David and two other men were honorary members by means of dating or marriage. Anna picked at her braid, eyes wide, while Belle's mouth was still open from her earlier gasp. Mulan, Regina, and Merida were all business.

“I'll hunt the Witch and her Demon pet down myself, and bring him back here. We can take turns peeling away his skin -”

“Mulan,” Merida hissed, her curls bouncing when she nodded her head at Emma, who's eyes were welling with tears once again.

“I thought… I thought I was doing something good ,” Emma burst into tears, sobbing into Snow, and Belle excused herself to fetch the whistling kettle from the stove. Pouring everyone tea, they tried to figure out what to do.

“Well, you certainly can't go hunting skips,” Regina scoffed. “And this house, I mean, I get that you fixed it up but it's a dump -”

“Oh! David would be happy to have you back on the farm with us!” Snow lit up, but the thought of being around their saccharine relationship and the smell of incense, patchouli, and skunky smelling herb had her running for the toilet. The others talked and sipped tea, planning out things as Emma curled up on her bath mat. Maybe it was better to terminate, if the leap in growth hadn't made it too late. Would it be better to give it up? Her mind filled with swirling ideas, and Emma let herself get lost in her sadness.

Ruby snuck in a moment later, sitting next to Emma quietly.

“So,” she whispered quietly, and Emma cracked open an eye to look at her friend's face.

“So,” Emma rasped back, her throat raw.

“Apparently, you're going to go live with Regina in the Guest ‘Wing’, yes, not room, ‘Wing’, and work at one of Belle’s bookstores. I tried to chime in with what your input might sound like. They looked at me as if I'd eaten Anna's familiar. Not like Elsa would let me snack on knock-off Rudolph anyway. Miss Ice Queen has her fancy new council to lord over, so who knows. We could have some reindeer snacks.”

Emma snorted, a smile breaking across her face.

“Look,” Ruby started, running a hand through her hair to push back her straight brunette style. ”I know how important it was for you to be independent, Emma. I know you really cared about Neal, too. I just… There's something… There's something really off with this situation, and it's not just my nose saying that you smell weird, like dark magic weird, or my gut saying a Witch that makes contracts with Demons for a baby, knocks you up, then just up and vanishes is bad news. I want you to be safe. I called Graham on your telephone, and there's an opening at his precinct I think you might like. It’s mostly paperwork -”

“Rubes!” Emma laughed despite herself. “That's awesome, thank you-”

“Just listen. I want to meet this… Demon. I still have this feeling like something is really off, and you're neck deep in danger. Besides, you know, the Demon part of the situation. Are you sure that you can't remember, er… Well. You know?”

“No, it was literally one minute I was fine, then the next the worst period cramps of my life while I inflated. I was sort of Instant Knocked Up, just add magic or whatever.” Emma rubbed her temples, and Ruby sighed.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Granny says that's most likely how I was conceived too.” Ruby flashed her a smile, and Emma laughed, hugging her friend tightly.

“I don't know what I would do without you, Rubes.”

“Look, I'm pretty sure Graham isn't into a menage et trois with a preggo, but I'll broach the subject.”

“You're ridiculous,” Emma laughed.

“You wouldn't have it any other way.”

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Months passed slowly as Emma waited for the other shoe to drop. Work at the station was easy, filing reports and making coffee not troublesome at all. Liam apparently worked somewhere in the massive complex, but Emma made no moves to seek him out or head to the detective offices.

Her house was almost completely redone and brand new; the floors, walls, ceilings, and everything in between redone with the utmost care.

("I refuse to let you live like this and represent our coven," Regina ran a finger along the mantelpiece, grimacing when it came up dirty. "Are you sure that you have to live here?"

"What Regina means," Elsa shot her a glare as Regina shrugged, rubbing her fingers together, "Is that any of us would love to have you. Don't feel obligated to stay -"

"But don't feel like you have to leave either. David and I would love to help you fix up the place, maybe have you make a few rooms?" Snow encouraged. David nodded, his arms crossed across his chest.

Elsa clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh yes, you could make an apothecary room like the one you talked about, and a potion brewing room, a nice place to grow plants, a library -"

"And we'd all pitch in, if you wanted to make a nursery?" Mary Margaret mumbled, almost shyly. "I wanted to throw a baby shower for you since we found out, but I didn't want to overwhelm you like I feel like I always do -"

"Too late," Emma gritted under her breath, her friends already planning the event for her.)

Emma actually had eased into the idea; at first it seemed absurd that they were planning for this when the whole situation was so strange. The father was still unaccounted for, even as the test results made it clear that the baby was of Demonic parentage. Sometimes Emma thought she could feel something, a little tug, the eerie feeling of being watched, or an emotion that wasn't hers flitting through her mind, but she dismissed them easily. More often, she was fascinated by the lack of information on the bond her and this child were supposed to have.

Pouring over books, it was as if someone had removed or rewritten any passages about Demonic parenting, specifically with a non Demon parent. She had found minor information on the bond in a few books. It was supposed to be fierce, the instinct making women hysterical and unreasonable. It only got more intense when the father was around, cases of actions deemed feral surrounding the mixed couples she had managed to find. All of them had ended in tragedy, and Emma eventually found herself unable to stomach reading about them.

Or anything really, food was enemy number one on baby's list, unless it was deep fried, covered in sugar, or drenched in sweetness. Without shame, Emma had managed to eat and keep down an entire jar of marmalade with crackers.

When Snow, Elsa, and Ruby's grandmother had brought up the food options they would make if Emma would let them throw her a shower, she had caved.

( "I will make you a bear claw cake, mini grilled cheese, and onion rings, amongst other things," Granny grinned. "And I will crochet you the most darling blanket for your little girl."

Emma tried not to drool, or give in. "That's nice, but I don't think I want that many people here, you know? That detective is watching my every move, I feel like a whale, I never know which food will agree with me -"

"And I will make sure I have a never-ending hot chocolate drip for you." Granny's eyes twinkled, full of mischief. "With toppings."

"Including cinnamon?" Emma asked, unable to disguise the longing in her voice. Granny nodded firmly. "How did you know? Wait - did you say a girl -"

"I just know," she shrugged. "Call it a wolf's intuition." )

It was supposed to be small, just a few people and family, but somehow it had turned into a full on social event. Emma was grateful that she had added a few rooms in the days before, the space sorely needed regardless of how drained she felt. Even still, she loved the house. It actually felt like hers, the exposed beams and vintage fixtures mixed with tapestries, framed art, and treasured photos. Her herbs dried above a large sink, food was spread along a long bar and buffet sideboard, and people milled around her living room that she had adjoined to two more exact copies through her doors.

No need to be original there.

( Her private door stayed tucked away in the upstairs hallway, and it was unable to be unlocked by anyone but her.

That was more important than a few extra rooms she could collapse after these people were gone. )

Emma was a good sport for the first couple of hours, playing games, being paraded around to people who apparently were important in the city, and sipping hot cocoa. Elsa, Regina, Mulan, and Snow were putting emphasis on her innocence, and although it was a spectacle, Emma hoped it would work.

Two very terrible things ruined her mood.

At some point, Elsa fell away from Emma's side, returning as cake was being cut. Her face was pinched, irritability written across it as she glared down at the slice she's given.

"You okay?" Emma whispered, and Elsa blinked, looking up in surprise.

"Oh, yeah. I just - I thought my date might show up, but he's working." Elsa gritted out the last word, anger seeping into it. "He's on this case, and it's important to him because it's family related, but I want him to understand that I have family too, and I could help if he just -" Throwing up her hands, Elsa groaned in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know anything about -"

"Emma," David pulled her up by her arm, looking around as if checking for something. "Kitchen. Now."

There's no time to protest, his grip strong and firm, dragging her into the kitchen.

"David, what the fu -"

"That detective was here, asking about you," Regina hissed, pointing out towards where guests milled. "We made sure he left, but he was asking questions."

"Questions?" Emma repeated, fear gripping her. Elsa walked in, listening to the conversation beside her.

"Like, if you had a history of criminality, if you knew and associated with undesirable magic users, if you knew who the father was or were protecting who did this to you," David said. The stillness around them seemed to tense just as they were.

"If he questions you, you make sure to tell him that you know nothing," Elsa whispered, trying to hold her hand. "Make sure you proclaim your innocence, and he'll believe you, he has to -"

"You think I haven't tried?" Emma ripped her hand away, looking at all of her friends with annoyance. "I agreed to this not knowing it was going to serve as some bullshit trial ball, where I'd be judged like this. I've searched everywhere for that woman, I have nothing to hide. She's disappeared, and not like a new identity in Guam disappeared, no. Like, off every plane of existence without a trace. It wouldn't matter if I did find her, because this is my kid. The bonds of the spell make her of my blood more and more every day. I can't just go back to the way things were - "

"What about the father?" Regina asked.

"I don't know. I know nothing about him or why he hasn't come. As far as I know, he might not. I don't know how he couldn't feel these binds. I know I feel something, but it could be because I'm practically mooing, I'm so huge, and I have these crazy urges. The hormones alone here are making me feel insane, even before you started in on me. Even before that asshole showed up because we have the entire damn city here!"

"I told you this was a bad idea, Regina," Snow mumbled. Regina glared in return.

"We - I just want you to know that no one will judge you for not wanting this, or for giving up the baby -" David said weakly.

"Shut up David," Emma growled out. Her hands rested against her stomach and she felt like she was going to fall over. "Right now, shut up and do not go down that road."

"Emma, it's making you feel attached," Regina said gently. "And if I'm agreeing with him, you know I - "

"I mean it, not another word. I'm keeping my baby, that's it. End all, be all. Say another word and I will curse your tomatoes," She pointed at David, then rounded on Regina. "And hex your wardrobe with bleach stains that don't come out. Try me."

"Fine!" Regina threw up her hands while David grunted.

The kitchen went silent, the tension palpable.

"We got you a really nice layette," Snow offered, trying to clear the awkwardness while smiling. "Come open gifts, and look at all this cuteness. "

Emma begrudgingly moved forward, her eyes widening at the mountain of gifts in front of her.

"Don't worry," Anna whispered as she pulled Emma down to sit. "I'm writing your thank you cards for you."

The crowd thinned after gifts, the night trickling on as the house emptied. If Emma had felt drained before, now she felt completely devoid of energy. The small crowd that's left hadn't bothered her, so when Snow and Regina asked her to do another walk about with them, it seemed safe enough.

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, his head nodding, laughing at something in his self absorbed sly little chuckle that makes her want to break his nose. She must have tensed because Snow was beside her and sucking in breath harshly through her teeth, the coven turning as if they could all feel the disturbance.

( Maybe they can, maybe the unbridled audacity of this man being here with another woman as he laughs with a martini glass in his hand is enough to share one collective experience of hatred. His eyes meet hers and he gives her a smirk that screams pity and humor at her expense as he lifts his glass toward her, mouthing congrats )

A figure cut in front of her, and her rage that feels like a sickening punch in the gut is coupled by this smack in the face - Neal's father grinned at her, his cane on the ground while both hands rest on its handle.

"My my my, Miss Swan," Gold smirked the same smirk that she wants to rip off his face. "When we heard, we were so surprised to not receive an invitation to this… quaint event of yours. Truly poor manners when our covens are no longer supposed to be at odds."

Regina and Elsa were there in front of her in a flash, Snow pulling her away, words being exchanged in hissed tones. Emma could barely hear over her heartbeat, over the sound of her stomach screaming at her to vomit.

"You can protect her all you want, but we know what she did. We know what it will be," Gold's voice slithered over her skin even in the bathroom. "You can't redeem her, and she will be the reason for all of your downfall. Enjoy your council while it lasts."

David shooed everyone out when Emma hastily retreated, the entirety of her patchwork family pushing inside to comfort her.

ﾟ・. ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

After the disaster of her shower, Emma began to feel the strange feeling of being watched even more. It became especially noticeable at night when she rocked in the nursery, sorting out piles of gifts. It felt like a presence sat beside her or hovered over her shoulder, and it began to follow her into her dreams.

They didn’t last after she woke, glimpses of a mirror, of the sound of pounding, a muffled voice that she can't make out.

The tip of the weird iceberg happened when Emma had gotten out of the shower, the steam in the room rising to fog the mirror. Dressing in pj's and heading back in to blow dry her hair, she had been dancing along to some new pop song by the Wolves of London, when her eyes caught the words.

On the fog of the mirror, her name had appeared backwards, joined shortly by the word 'Help' in a curling script that she blinked at in confusion before they disappeared.

( A baby, a Witch, and a Ghost. Just what she needs in the never ending chaos that has become her life )

Luckily, the Coven can save her ass again.

Regina glared at Emma, her judging silence lay heavily over the room. She crossed her arms, eyebrows pinching into further scorn, before asking again.

"You want me to do what?"

"Look, I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but you can and I don't have the gift or a guide like you do -"

"That doesn't make it any easier!" Regina threw up her hands, then gestured to her pantsuit clad form. "It's my body, and my mother is just -"

"I am begging you, Reg. Begging. You." Emma moaned, irritated. "The father is a complete mystery, there's a ghost in my house that I think has to do with him, and I'm scared it could be someone like…" Trailing off, she chewed her lip.

Liam's increasing push for her to choose adoption had thrown her off her game these last few weeks, his phone calls almost non stop. In a way, he was right. She wasn't the only parent, and she certainly wasn't ready to be a mom. She was no one, absolutely nothing. It wasn't as if she could raise a baby.

(Even if she wanted to, and the idea of her baby, her family enveloped in the family she chose and created, it made her feel nothing but happiness)

Regina rolled her eyes with a huff. "Fine. Fine!" she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. "I do this for you, and you owe me. I expect you to be at my whim for this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And I'm not doing it for long." She shuddered. "Every time I check out and she checks in, I feel so just -" She shuddered again, making a gagging noise.

(Regina had done it before for David and her, to say goodbye to Ruth. It had hurt, hurt so badly, but not as much as Cora cutting the reunion short to tell her daughter to do more cardio.)

"I promise, we find his grandma or cousin or somebody, maybe whoever wrote that on my mirror, get the lead, and we're done." Emma nodded.

With another sigh, Regina laid her hands over the table, palms up, and Emma laid her own over them. A lavender spark shot from their joined hands to the air above them, Regina's head falling back while purple smoke began to pour around the table, permeating the air. Regina shook slightly, before violently snapping her head forward and blinking.

"Emma Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure of being ripped from my study?" A higher, nasal, woman's voice spoke out from Regina's mouth. "My daughter feels chubbier, and her skin is just -" Regina touched her face, making clucks with her tongue. "Oh, she is a mess! Did she break it off with that awful Warlock? Ugh, is she stress eating? I try not to pry, but I know she ate at least one slice of chocolate cake when she was out this last week -"

"Cora," Emma gritted out, closing her eyes in frustration. "Cora, Regina is fine. If she wants to discuss her love life with you, she'll call you up on the Ouija. I need your help to find someone, and I don't know the someone."

"Well, aren't you in a pickle."

"Please Cora, it's not just for me!"

"Oh, you're not interested in Regina are you? Because you are much too low a class for her breeding -"

"Oh Merlin, no, no!"

"What is it then?" Cora sighed in a bored drawl. "I've told you I can't find your family if they don't want anything to do with you, I -"

"No." Emma let her chest fall, speaking quietly. "No it's not that. I remember from last time and I have a family now." Emma took a deep breath, pushing back against the hurt in her chest. "I need to know… I need to know who the father is, and I'm having trouble. I need you to see if you can reach a relative, or friend, or someone who knows why his offspring is inside me, as well as what it is. I got a visit from a ghost, so here we are."

"Oooooh!" Cora squealed. "An enceinte pregnancy Miss Swan? An illegitimate baby? A haunting? How very risqué and daring on your salary!"

"Cora!"

"Fine, I'll check. I'll want the details of this though, so don't spare any of the juicy bits." Cora winked with Regina's face, before the woman's body went slack. After a minute, her head lifted back up, blinking slightly. "Well, Emma, what a doozy this is. This woman will not stop talking, and it's absolutely ridiculous how impossible she's being, even if she is ancient looking. Yes, I said ancient looking - well don't get mad at me, I tell it how it is - oh, I don't care who your son is, he can't be that grand if he's knocked up this wreck. Sorry Emma dear, I love you, but I mean," Cora shrugged, unabashedly.

"Cora, ask her what her name is!" Emma hissed.

"What's your name then? Oh, that's interesting. Not as good as Cora, or Regina -"

"Cora!"

"It's Milah. And she's not his mum, she's - oh he's an ex lover of yours? Juicy juicy! Sounds like Emma dear might be getting leftovers then? Oh don't be like that -"

"I need a name Cora, this is so -"

"I'm trying Emma dear, the woman won't shut up about her sweetheart. No - Really? The scandal, but - well that is so weird! Milah says that he's been hidden somewhere and no one is haunting you, but… Ugh! She's speaking so rapidly - yes, I get it, but if he wants the kid he would have come to get it, or - I am listening to you, you're not listening to me! A mirror? You should look at one, why do I have to tell her about a mirror? I mean Emma's at most average, and look at her figure now. A child will do that to you." Cora sighed, and Emma stiffened. Cora seemed to nod for a moment, before Regina's face soured further.

"Don't get smart with me, you may be an old soul but you died far younger than I did!" Cora growled, her eyes slitting at some unseen target. She turned with her head cocked, looking at Emma with pity. "I'm sorry Emma, sweet little duckling, but this woman is a nightmare. She keeps screaming at me about how this Killian fellow is the father, but it's impossible for her to see him for whatever reason. Something about a mirror? She's also absolutely ancient, I haven't seen clothing like that outside of - Pre-Babylon? Is that the robe designer or…? Don't look at me like that miss bed sheet toga, I - Emma, this woman, I swear! It's just incessant chattering, really - "

"His name is Killian? Cora, wait, don't you -"

"I understand that you were crazy in love with him, trust me, you seem crazy Milah dear. Yes, Killian is his name. A Demon of lust for vengeance. Wow, Emma, what a winner!" Cora snickered, and Emma resisted the urge to shriek. "Well, I don't care if the beast is misunderstood, he's a Demon. How touching, now please - oh come now, Gothel in the tower with the mirror? Red spire, Troll falls? What is this, Clue? Do I look like a detective?" Regina's eyes rolled, Emma desperately trying to remember the snippets that might make sense. Gothel, tower, mirror, red spire, troll falls. Killian.

Cora grew louder, her voice rising in pitch.

"Oh, how dare you! I'll have you know your cheap robes aren't exactly chic either; you need a wardrobe update, badly! You look like a ten cent frat party attendee!" Cora spat, and Regina's face pinched tight. "Excuse me? More important things, WELL , I never - Oh you rude little tart, I've had enough!"

"Please Cora, no, I -" Emma attempted, but Cora flipped Regina's hair back, sniffing with haughty indignation.

"It'll be alright Emma, duckling. It seems that your little orphan persona is perfect to parent this little babe! Shut up! No, I'm done with you, you crazy broad. Go back to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy some new linens!" Cora hissed, her mouth curled in an ugly snarl. "Anyways, Emma, just accept that you can't ruin a child to be like you if you're giving them a home, even if their father is some failed Demon. Or something inspirational, I don't know." She shrugged, Regina's shoulders going up in a blasé dismissal. Her eyes snapped to look behind Emma, her face contorted in rage.

"Cora. I am begging you - " Emma tried again, but Cora's focus was elsewhere, on someone unheard and unseen.

"Shut it, shut up thread count Cleopatra!" Turning back to Emma, she smiled serenely. "Tell Regina to summon me later, I need to know how she is. And tell her no more sweets, especially if she ever wants to be a wife. Ta!"

Regina fell forwards, her body shuddering as the lights flickered, purple smoke dissipating into the air. She moaned lowly, cracking her shoulders and neck as she rolled backwards.

"Dammit!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up and violently stalking to the fridge. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"

"Ugh, I can taste her perfume. Bring me a beer please," Regina groaned. Emma pulled a beer and a soda out of the fridge, giving the beer to Regina. "Emma, don't you ever say that I don't love you after that." Regina shuddered again, flicking her hand to open the beer and drinking down half of it in one go.

"I know you do. You just have… You're just abrasive with it. Like a big cat, or an alligator."

(Or a wood chipper wearing lipstick)

"Shut up, and tell me how it went. Was it worth it? Mother never is, but -"

"She, uh, well she got me some information to go on. So, that's something." Emma averted her gaze, licking her lips.

"She talked about my weight, didn't she," Regina sighed. When Emma said nothing Regina drank the rest of the beer and walked to the kitchen, depositing it in the trash. Pulling out a wine glass, she reached under her cabinet and produced a bottle of wine. Emma raised an eyebrow. "Don't even start on me."

"I wasn't going to," Emma whispered.

Laying her palms flat on the countertop and bowing her head, Regina looked up after a moment's pause.

"So, what now?" She asked.

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking hard. "I have his name, or at least I think I do. I think all that's left is to, well, summon him."

(Summon him, and say what? 'Hey, Mr. Demon, I'm having your kid and thought you might like to know', as if it would care, or want anything to do with her...)

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Not alone, surely -"

"No. I would ask Snow, David, and maybe Mulan and Belle. I know Belle would be delighted, and she has the spellbooks."

"That actually sounds like a relatively good plan." Regina nodded, then took a sip of her wine.

"Don't sound so shocked, Regina." Emma grumbled.

"Miss Swan," Regina smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "If you ever cease to stop shocking me with your antics, I'll assume I have gone to meet my mother and maker."

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 1st 2020 #cssns #CSSNS 2020 #captain swan au #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #cs ff au #CS FF #My writing #MTFB #1st

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treatian · 3 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 21: Unmade Plans

He had a suspicion that Regina had used the book and gotten some of her powers back. It was just a suspicion. There was nothing solid about the guess except for what the world beyond his shop hinted at. After lunchtime, the streets were unsettled, unusually so. People were seen congregating in small groups in the middle of the road again, talking, looking over their shoulders as if expecting someone to be listening to their conversations. They were acting as they did when a new villain emerged on the scene, and after giving Regina the book...well...he wasn't one to believe in consequences.

Still, he shut the people beyond his own shop out of his mind. Whatever was happening in town, even if Regina had gotten her magic back, it didn't concern him. Belle was home; the protection spell he'd placed on the home ensured that she was safe so long as she stayed inside. And she wouldn't be home alone for long. He'd made up his mind. Screw sitting around waiting for Emma to get back, forget figuring out whatever kind of magic August had gotten his hands on to help him hide. He was going to pack a bag, go home, pick up Belle, and go.

The vision he'd gotten earlier suggested that Baelfire was close. He'd always known that the Curse would deliver him somewhere close by to his son, certainly somewhere in the same country, but the Seer's vision…there had been further hints. It had been cold in his vision. The Northern United States was all cold at the moment. His vision showed him images of trash bins, high buildings, steam, and concrete. And his son…his son had fallen to the ground, but not from a window or the sky…when he focused, he realized he'd fallen from a fire escape. That meant he had to look for him in a city. While there were cities in the west, the North East was more likely. That wasn't definitive, but he'd rather comb through all the likely culprits before turning to the unlikely ones. And the Curse had delivered them to Maine, just a hop skip and a jump from several very key cities in this region: Philadelphia, Boston, and New York City all came to mind. They would be cold in the Winter, and they were here. He could take Belle with him. For all he knew, she was the female presence he'd felt standing close to him in the visions.

He combed through his shop, looking for things he wanted to take that he couldn't leave without. The black trunk was still out. Obviously, he couldn't take all of it with him, Baelfire probably wouldn't care to see the boots he'd owned when he was eleven again, but the shawl, that would be something easy he could take. In the backroom, he found the black bag that he'd stored a lot of his potions in. That would do it. Magic would help him find Baelfire; that's why he'd wanted it to begin with. Of course, because they'd never had it before, the world beyond Storybrooke would still be baffled by it, and that meant they couldn't use a tracking potion or tracking spell the entire way there; that would cause too much attention. But there were other things they could use. He'd take his potions home, and when he arrived, as he told Belle to pack a bag, he'd search the basement room for anything else there that might be helpful. And then…

Then they'd leave. If Belle wanted an adventure, then he'd give her one, the greatest she could imagine because it was unplanned. He'd tell her where they were going on the way, only…where were they going? He needed to tell her who they were going to, but where…

He grabbed a bag and went into the front of the shop. He didn't have much that wasn't an antique in the shop, but he did have some maps and guidebooks of major city areas in the Northeast. They were useless next to the magic, but he wanted to be as prepared as possible. Perhaps he could do a little bit of reading on the way when they stopped for food or water or anything else Belle needed as they-

Suddenly it was there again, just as it had been earlier, a feeling that his property had been breached. Not the house, thankfully, but the shop again. This time it wasn't Regina, but it was still a familiar presence he recognized. David had finally come to him.

"It appears when I bought that closed sign, I was just throwing my money away," he announced before turning to find him.

"Looks like it," the False Prince agreed.

"Sorry to hear about your wife and daughter," he insisted quickly, cutting right to the chase. He'd been expecting this visit. He harbored no ill-will between the prince and the rightful Queen. In fact, if he could make a deal for returning to the Enchanted Forest to bring them back, he would, especially because it would benefit him greatly. But as it was, after Regina's last visit, he was interested only in going home, collecting Belle, and leaving immediately. "If you're looking for a retrieval, I'm afraid portal jumping is just outside my purview."

"Of course, it is," David sighed as if he wasn't surprised to hear he couldn't help him. Interesting reaction from a man who often had temper tantrums over not being helped back to his beloved. Especially when he considered that instead of leaving, he just stood there and stared at him as if he wanted something more. What else was there to want from him?

"So, what's the commotion outside?" he asked, trying to figure out what he might need so he could think two steps ahead. That was difficult when the Seer herself was being, well, difficult. He wanted information about where Baelfire was, anything to narrow down his search, and instead, all she kept whispering to him about was a deal he'd made with David years ago in the Enchanted Forest. A deal for peace between them.

David glanced over his shoulder to the door. "Oh, a little stir at the border. Problem crossing the line."

He felt his chest tighten as the rest of him went numb, and he stood up a little straighter at that. Trouble at the border? Not with Regina? A problem crossing the town line? What the hell kind of 'stir'?

"Do tell."

"Actually, I'm here to buy something. A way to find someone."

A problem at the line, and now David wanted to find someone but didn't need help crossing realms, and no one mentioned that Regina had magic again…what the hell was going on?

"What, like a map?"

"Something with a bit more kick. Like the ring you gave me to find Snow."

"Ah, yeah, magic," he corrected. The Prince wasn't here to buy something. He was here to make a deal. That was well and good, but what was wrong with the border? And how could he figure it out without giving away the fact that it mattered? "Whom are you following?"

"Not telling."

David was smiling, grinning ear to ear. The price of magic, sometimes it did come at a cost for him, like distrust. David clearly thought he was playing a game, just as he had been in the Enchanted Forest. In truth, he just wanted to know about the border. But…David wanted something like the ring, and a tracking spell would do it, so long as he possessed something of the person he wanted to find.

"So, do you have something of theirs, this missing person?"

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

"No," he answered with another smile as his hands stayed clasped in front of him.

He laughed. He would never have thought David would have the brains to sort out anything as smart as this in the Enchanted Forest. Perhaps David Nolan had rubbed off on him a few good ways. The question was, what happened if Prince Charming rubbed off on David Nolan? He could think of a few ways that would not be ideal for him.

A magical object he couldn't see that belonged to an individual he couldn't know. Very well, for that, there was only one solution. The physical equivalent of a tracking spell, a Tracking Potion. He hated to get rid of it, but outside of Storybrooke, he could use a spell for himself. And perhaps he could use it to ensure David Nolan, or more importantly, Prince Charming, stayed out of his hair until he and Belle were out of Storybrooke. If he played his cards right and came across as helpful, he might even get more information out of him.

"Pour this on the object, and then follow it. So simple, even David Nolan could do it."

He held it out for him, but when David moved to take it, he quickly pulled it away, a friendly reminder that he'd come here looking to "buy" it. Nothing in his store was free, especially not magic. And right now…

"What do you want?"

Not him…the Seer wanted something. She wanted something reiterated. Desperately. She was reminding him over and over in his head with harsh hissed whispers. It was a deal they'd already made in another world. Still, with the Curse broken and a previous deal with Regina obviously not in effect, perhaps there were others he'd overlooked that were specific to their land that needed to be re-enacted.

"Peace," he answered to the Seer's pleasure. "Leave me alone."

David huffed. "What do you care what David Nolan does?"

"Oh, no. It's Charming I worry about. I'd like a little non-interference guarantee."

David glared at him, clouds of suspicion forming in his eyes as he wondered how he would come to regret this deal. In a way, it was a test. If whatever he needed this potion for wasn't that important, he was almost certain he'd turn him down. If it was important, well then-

"Fine," David conceded, giving some of his cards away. It was important then. "If you give me the same. You and I–we stay out of each other's way."

That wasn't part of the deal, not officially. But, in fact, making a second request like that, with a little bit of magic, meant he owed him a little something more. And he intended to cash in. So he handed David the vial.

"Thank you for your business," he smiled, handing over the last transaction he'd ever make in this Pawnshop.

David took it and immediately turned to leave, but he stopped him before he could, wanting the information he was owed, knowing that David wouldn't feel the magic in the air when he answered him.

"So, uh, what happens when you try and cross the border?"

David paused and turned back to him. "You lose your memory of everything of our old lives."

As a boy, he'd fallen through some ice and into the chilly depths of the lake below. Suddenly, standing in his shop on dry ground, he experienced it all over again. The feeling of the bottom of the world being torn from him, his legs standing on nothing. Icy, chilly water swept up over him so that his vision blurred, the image of David before him spun out of control. The world darkened. Then he was numb. Numb and caught off guard and in shock all at that one pronouncement. The fragile edges of his psyche, of the Dark Ones before him, toyed and played with the words trying to fix it, to understand it. He tried to replay the statement, tried desperately to believe and hope that he'd heard it wrong that the implications of it wasn't what he thought it was. And then David shrugged casually as he fought to maintain control inside himself.

"Looks like we're stuck here."

Stuck here.

Trapped.

Unable to leave.

Stuck in Storybrooke.

Because…because…because…

The Curse on this land, the plague of ordinary, non-magical world…it wasn't broken. In Storybrooke, perhaps, there was magic here now…but it hadn't extended out to the rest of the world as he'd planned.

As he'd planned…

His plans…

To find Bae, to keep Belle safe, to leave tonight and outrun Regina…

Gone. All gone.

The chiming bell indicating David's departure shoved him back into his body and out of his mind. Energy, roaring and savage, tore through him, anger and malice and pain, things he could do nothing to fix because he was closer to Baelfire than he'd ever been and separated by nothing more than a fucking town border!

He gripped the cane in his hand tight. Then swung it into whatever would break.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #David Nolan #Prince Charming #Belle #Baelfire #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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prince-in-name-alone · 3 years

Text

Severus Snape

Basics:

Name: Severus Michael Snape Meaning: Severus- “stern” or “harsh”, Michael - “Who is like god?” Snape - “to outrage, dishonor, disgrace” Birthday: January 9 Age: 20 Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Severus has no time for labels, and it would be idiotic to enter any sort of relationship that could tie you down in the midst of a war Parents: Tobias Snape and Eileen Snape (nee Prince) Other Family: None of consequence Languages: English, Latin

Wizard Fun:

Hogwarts House: Slytherin Occupation: Employee at Slug & Jigger’s Apothecary, both store clerk and potioneer Pet: None Blood Status: Halfblood Species: Human Patronus: Incorporeal as far as anyone has seen (Can create a patronus that is a doe, which he hides for obvious reasons) Boggart: Lord Voldemort Amortentia: Smoke, Soil fresh after rain, a particular type of flower Scent: Musty, a mixture of potions ingredients and brewing potions clinging to his clothes Wand type: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 13 inches, Unyielding Affiliation: Death Eater

Appearance:

Height: 6ft 1in Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Black Typical Hair Style: Long, Unstyled, Greasy, occasionally pulled out of his face when brewing potions Fashion Style: All black, ill-fitting/untailored clothes that are otherwise well-cared for. Black button-ups under black vests, black slacks rolled up, often accompanied by a black cloak, especially when working at the shop Distinguishing Features: Sallow skin, hooked nose, uneven teeth, angular

Personality:

Positive Traits: + Observant + Meticulous + Intelligent + Negative Traits: - Selfish - Apathetic - Judgemental -

Headcanons:

Severus has moved on from his infatuation with Lily Evans, but she remains a sort of obsession. He realizes how fruitless this effort is, yet he cannot seem to shake the almost intrusive thoughts about the girl who was his first friend, and the first person who showed him what it meant to be loved.

Severus knows he is not a pureblood and puts on a good show of humility when confronted with those who care about blood supremacy. He, however, considers most people idiotic or beneath him for one reason or another.

Severus wants no friends, he thinks they will pull him down. (This does not stop him from making connections with people that might as well be called friends.)

Severus hasn’t spoken to his parents since he left for his final year at Hogwarts.

Short Bio:

Severus Snape was a person focused on one thing: survival. It was survival that made him cling to the drops of pure blood that ran through his veins. It was survival that urged him to cling to and puff up the egos of those purebloods within Slytherin house to have some measure of protection within the stone walls. It was survival that had him shortly after graduation get a job that offered him a small flat above the apothecary where he would sell ingredients to annoying little brats on their way to school. And it was survival that made him join up with the Death Eaters the moment he proved his worth.

It was hard for the young man who began his time at Hogwarts as the sallow, skinny boy wrenched apart from his only friend by the ridiculousness of house division to imagine himself as anything but a Death Eater. He had gravitated to the likes of the purebloods in school as a way of protecting himself from others at school, and the dark magic they whispered about, it intrigued him. Quickly his interest in potions that left lasting curses and even death grew to an interest in unforgiveables, curses and spells meant to cause pain, torture, and give the caster power over others. If one knew these things, there would be no doubt to their survival. And if he was the one to survive, he would be the one to win the heart of Lily Evans.

That changed in fifth year, when his curiosity got the best of him, and he almost lost his life at the hands of a mad werewolf. He had almost died, or been turned into a beast himself, and the Headmaster had all but swept it under the rug. Severus lost respect for his professors, lost the trust he had in the system he had come to feel at home with. Once again he felt inconsequential, and it caused him to lean further into the powerful “friends” he had made. He leaned into their attitude, their speech, and it lead to uttering one word that was the greatest mistake of his life.

Since graduating and being admitted, Snape has been an unquestionable servant of the Dark Lord, but that does not mean he is unwavering. Chaos was never his style, it reminded him too much of early days at home, far from the cool calculations with which he approaches life. He wanted nothing to do with Tobias and his fair-weather moods, pulled about by a stressful job and the alcohol he relied on to get by. And while much of his present company can manifest their will through wands and incantations, the unpredictability of their whims keeps his guard up. As the Dark Lord's hold on the wizarding world begins to grow, there is a small voice within him that begs him to hesitate for just a moment, a voice that sounds strangely like a childhood friend.

Severus is aware that his preoccupation with Lily is more obsession than it is love or friendship, at this point, but the girl with the copper hair remains a specter in his mind and a physical reminder of what carelessness can cost you. Can he really be a part of a movement set to steamroll over the one person who knew him before he began to survive? Is it really survival if every moment is spent wondering when the next shoe will drop, when your aptitude will no longer please a man with impossible expectations for his followers? Or does survival mean risking whatever you can to make sure you and the few you care about are on the winning side of every war?

#I'll tag this later when I come up with a better tag

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jiankimura-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

The Legacy of the Broken Lance

Jian raps at the hard, oaken doors before clearing his throat and patting down his clothes, making sure his furs are in order. His chest pocket empty, the soul crystal remains behind at the Forgotten Knight, a precautionary measure in case his shade wished to throttle the man who seeks to criminalize the dark arts.

The door creaks opened, and an elderly eleven greeted him.

“Hello, I’m Jian Kimura. Chartered accountant of Limsa Lominsa, Vylbrand, Eorzea. Acting finan-“

“My master, Gilles Raoult, has been waiting for you.”

“-cial- Oh. Uh, sorry.” Jian chuckles nervously as he bows humbly.

The door widens to invite him into the warm interior of the house. The lacquered walls are homely, made of wooden support beams and white plaster. Light emanates dimly from glass wall lamps stalled down the hall and up the stairs. The servant of the house escorted him to a brightly lit study room, with books lining the walls to the ceiling. A large window let in the morning light onto a clean, ornate desk and a pair of lush sofas facing each other with a low, coffee table between them.

A tall Elezen man -judging to be two heads taller than the accountant- stood to the side of the windows, watching the snow fall. The dark shades of his red satin suit accented his silvery blonde hair and pale, youthful face. If Jian had to guess, he would probably be ten or twenty years his elder. He subconsciously rubs at his aging sun-touched skin, thinking about it.

“Tea or coffee?” A firm voice erupted from the man, startling the Hyur from his thoughts.

“Uh tea. Thank you.”

The Ishgardian turns around; his violet eyes glance over him as he then looks to his servant.

“Tea for two, Rene. With cream and sugar on the side.”

Rene bows quietly, closing the door behind Jian, leaving both in the studies in uncomfortable silence as the statesman examines the highlander, from the wild wisps of his black hair, down to the wet leather boots. Gilles speaks up, offering the man a seat at one of the sofas.

“Jian Kimura.”

“Aye, that is me.” Jian smoothes down his coat again as he moves to sit.

“You are my first visitor that is not of Ishgardian citizenry. However, that letter you sent piqued my interest in your concerns, seeing as I am indeed the editor of Leaves from a Nymeia Lily.”

“Well, it’s been an honor, sir, to invite me here to have this discussion, as I’m just simply waiting for the trade hearings.”

Gilles put a hand over his chest, realizing his motion in the house of commons had left behind an inconvenience to a visitor. “Oh, well, I do humbly apologize for prolonging your stay in Ishgard, but the matters in regards to my legislation could no longer be ignored by my peers.”

“So, these dark knights, have they been that much of a large threat to Ishgard? From what I’ve discerned from the locals is that they don’t work in an organization of sorts, and so far, I don’t see them running around causing havoc, let alone seeing any.”

“The powers they wield are a much larger threat, second from the Dravanians. And since Dravanian are now our allies, instead of our enemies, most of the heresy laws have changed to criminal laws, and the dark knights are to be given no quarter or exceptions.”

“You are confident in that assessment.” The door opens once more, letting in a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Of course, I proudly specialize in handling them when I worked as a senior inquisitor prior to the end of the dragonsong war. You see, the dark arts these knights wield are amplified by their raw emotions. The stronger the emotions, the more potent their spells. There have been written records of incidents where dark knights were consumed by the arts, and caused untold slaughter and destruction in their wake, threatening the peace within the borders of Ishgard and Coerthas.”

Jian rubs his chin in deep thought, “If the dark arts is drawn by one’s emotions, shouldn’t there be more dark knights? From my experience in my field of duty, there are quite a number of folks with emotional personas, but I’ve not seen any that seem to be dark knights.”

“Well, that just means either I did my job well or they are well hidden,” Gilles chuckles, before his face returned to his serious demeanor, “As a means to handle these cases and identify suspects of the dark arts, I had to understand the source of their arts, the Abyss.”

“The Abyss?” Jian raises his brow incredulously.

“From what I’ve observed, the abyss is the source of one’s inner darkness. It mostly consists of one’s vices and personal trauma. Everyone has them, and several acted on them. The dark knights, however, somehow formed aethereal magic with the abyss, at the cost of being driven into insanity or death when they draw too much.”

“So, you are saying, if a dark knight loses control of their emotions, the magic will make them crazy?” He frowns in concern.

Gilles nods, “And I have experienced the consequences of the repercussions.”

“Surely, there’s a means to dispel the abyss, or control their powers. If someone finds it, then the knights won’t be a threat anymore.” Jian gestures in thought, “Sorry to offend, but I tend to consider long term solutions that don't require offing people.”

“None taken, Mister Kimura, but once someone drinks from the abyss, they are at the mercy of the abyss for the rest of their life.” Elezen closes his eyes for a brief moment in thought. “However, there was once a means to somehow prevent the abyss from consuming a dark knight, despite having fallen.”

“And that is?”

“It’s a lost cause.” He sighs as he opens his eyes, looking up at a painted portrait of an elder Elezen, with similar striking violet eyes and dark gray hair, holding a serious expression that borders between fatigue and determination. Jian furrows his brow, and his eyepiece whirs quietly, feeling some familiarity with the man, like he recognized his shape somewhere.

“Say, are you interested in some family history of mine?”

Jian leans over to pick up the teacup from a tray on the coffee table, before sitting back and making himself comfortable.

“Well, I do enjoy listening to stories.”

“You might enjoy this one then, as it had been stricken from the written history of Ishgard.” He looks back up at the painting.

“That portrait you are seeing is Sir Jacques de Raoult of the Stalwart Lance. That was his full title. Now, he goes by Jacques Raoult of the Broken Lance. He was a decorated dragoon who belonged to a well-established house under the Fortemps, one of the four high houses of Ishgard. He was a fierce warrior and well-versed with Halone’s scripture. With so many dravanians slain under his lance during the early era of the war, he was chosen to be the next Azure Dragoon.”

Jian tilts his head in thought, as he sips from the tea cup.

The statesman continues, pacing back and forth, “Then one fateful day, he decided to defend a caravan of heretics during a Dravanian attack onto Ishgardian soil. The Holy See was displeased by his actions, indicted him for dereliction of duty, and sentenced him to trial-by-combat as a means to restore honor to the Raoult house.”

“He lived?”

The Elezen’s face darkens. “He survived indeed, and the house of Raoult fell into obscurity for his actions alone. What was even worse was finding out months later that he was consorting with the dark knights.”

“And so now you are on a crusade against them?”

“Whatever it takes to restore the Raoult name for the sins of my forefather. The portrait is just a painful reminder of what I am fighting against.”

“So, what happened to Jacques afterwards?”

“The dishonored coward fled the lands, abandoned our family, so he could live a different life under a different name. Judging by your letter concerning a book I edited, you are familiar with an author named Fudo Yasumura.”

“Yes, I-wait. Fudo Yasumura was your ancestor?” Jian nearly choked on his tea.

“The very same.”

The highlander looks down at his emptied cup, feeling the room shrinking all of the sudden. He stares once more at the portrait.

“So, Fudo- I mean- Jacques had the remedy to cope with the abyss?”

“Of the sort, but his scriptures were not accepted in Ishgard. No one would read to the harmless ramblings of a dark knight’s thoughts, fearing being branded a heretic. I had to take the liberty of editing the literature so it would remain in Ishgard.”

“So, you can not use it to help the dark knights cope with their problems because the un-edited book itself is heresy?”

“The book is merely half the solution. The other half also requires the soul crystal that housed the memories of Jacques de Raoult.”

The accountant blinks, “And he died somewhere in the Far East. That sounds like finding a needle in a haystack then.” “As I said, it’s a lost cause.” Gilles sighs, “And so, we must cull the knights as tradition.”

Jian returns the tea cup back onto the tray, “I thank you for your insight, but I shall not overstay my visit.”

“You’re welcome. Pray tell, what made you decide to stay in Ishgard? You could have left when the trade talks were postponed.”

“Oh, well, it's rather an embarrassing reason, but I tend to get air sick, and had only ordered enough medication for a round trip. And of Ala Mhigan descent, I don’t work well with the cold to travel on foot.”

“I see. Well, I hope you enjoy your stay, Jian Kimura.”

He stands up, and gives a curt bow as Gilles opens the door out to the hallway. Rene awaits at the entrance, stoically opening the door to the bitter cold. Jian pauses midway out, and he turns.

“I almost forgot, Sir Raoult, but do you have the original manuscript of the Leaves from the Nymeia Lily? I lost my copy decades ago when the Garleans invaded my homeland.”

“Unfortunately, no. It had to be burned like the rest of the heretical manuscripts.”

“Ah, forget that I asked,” And the man leaves.

#ffxiv roleplay #jian kimura #dark knight #drk #ishgard #The Salt and the Abyss

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