telloraevers

[telloraevers]

I've begun to forget her face

The laugh lines, the sad lines

I've begun to forget her face.

I've begun to forget her voice

The way she spoke

Even the way she yelled across the room

I've begun to forget her voice.

Things are different

Now that she's gone

Harder and lonely

Things are different without her here.

The pictures just aren't the same

They don't even look like her

She was different, of this I'm sure.

But it's been so long since she was here

I've begun to forget.

What do you do when your memory forgets

When the pictures are faded

Empty eyes and frozen smiles.

I've begun to forget her face.

I've begun to forget her voice.

The pictures are faded and empty.

She was different, of this I'm sure.

[telloraevers]

They found her in a barrel after the storm passed over them.

It was luck, the less superstitious said.

It was the will of the Gods, said the rest.

Either way the little girl was theirs now, all bright eyes and silence.

She didn't cry, just watched them with too much knowledge but they fed her and dressed her in mismatched and remade clothing.

They taught her to walk and fight and never once demanded her voice, if she did not speak that was her choice.

They spoke to her though, told her tales of adventures they'd had, fights they won, treasure they found.

They sang her the songs of their homelands in the many languages they'd collected.

They laughed at one another and caught her tiny smiles, tickling her until she grinned wide.

They ignored the sharp teeth that her lips hid, they ignored the blood she painted them with, they ignored the too intelligent eyes that her child round face held.

They ignored the way she watched some of them, the weaker ones, the younger ones, the way she licked her lips and trailed her bloodied fingers to her mouth when she helped sew their wounds.

She was their little sea child, their lovely siren, she was theirs.

But so, too, were they hers.

The sea rocked them all to sleep, but her wailings kept them safe, kept the others of her kind from their ship.

Storms blew over them with naught a snapped rope.

They knew that one day their little sea child would return to the waters, they knew that on that day death would claim them.

They knew and accepted that they would live on as the strength of their child, even those that had left the ship would one day give the child their life, if not them then future generations would repay the debt of safety she'd once provided.

It never occured to them to toss her to the sea, never occured to them to end the life of the child the sea gave them.

Even so, such would not have spared them.

They were sailors, they were glad to give their life and blood to the waters they so loved.

They were glad to nourish the child that they had been given.

They were sailors after all, they all belonged to the sea, one way or another.

[telloraevers]

I need more gentle Death, a Death who understands the tragedy of dying young, of a life so bad that one wishes for the peacefulness of Death's embrace.

I want a Death that sits with a child that is ending their life, not because it is waiting for their last breath, (though that is of course why it's there) but rather because Death doesn't want them to be alone.

I want a Death that plays with ghost puppies and comforts lost children, who takes them to see their living parents because they want to make sure that their parents are alright. I want a Death that holds the souls of babies that are killed by their parents and I want it to place those tiny souls into the body of a child that never had a soul to start (that fearful moment of silence before the nurse pinches the child, (though I'm sure they no longer do that to make them cry).

I want a Death that brings a family member to a child kidnapped and stolen so that the child knows that no matter what was done to them they are still loved.

A Death that holds tiny animals in their hands and lets them roam free in an afterlife where humans can't harm them.

A Death that lets an orphan stay with them (because the child doesn't know who their parents are or they didn't want them) until a family decides that the orphan is theirs now, what does a few centuries between them matter when they aren't alive anyway.

Give me a Death that stands in a school as a children are massacred and cries and it collects each soul that now belongs to them. Give me a Death that takes the murder in their arms and cries for them too.

Give me a Death that does not like dying but knows that it's necessary.

Just, Gentle Death.

[telloraevers]

"I was like you, once, long ago." The sea witch whispered, softly, so softly that she almost missed it.

The Princess frowned as she watched the witch draw back and away.

"But that is no matter." The witch said and moved around her home, gathering this and that.

She reached for a small vial, pausing briefly before taking it firmly in hand. She turned and began to combine the ingredients, saving the red filled vial for last.

"Are you sure this is what you wish, child? Once done you cannot go back, only forward." The witch warned, eyes surprisingly soft, pained with her knowledge of what awaited this child.

The Princess nodded and the witch uncorked her vial, scooping the mess of a potion into the red liquid it contained, she corked it quickly and shook it to mix it.

"Now, go to where the ocean ends, where it kisses the dry sand, sit upon the sun warmed sand, let it burn your tail dry, drink the potion and you will have your legs, sweet child." The witch said to her.

The Princess took the vial, "What of payment?" She asked.

The witch gazed at her, fingers trailing down the Princess' chin, "If your sailor loves you, take him far from the sea, for if you stay it will be his death, if he does not love you, then flee the waters anyway, they will never again welcome you."

The Princess looked at her, "I don-"

"Hush, to stay is to die, child, one way or another." The witch said, as she turned from the Princess, her split tail moving slightly out of sync with each other as she moved through the water.

The Princess watched her, eyes drawn to that strange tail, the scars that trailed all along it and how the fins began so high up.

"What do you mean?" The Princess asked, unable to stop herself.

The witch hummed and turned back to her, in her hand was a necklace, a locket.

"Take this with you, at the very least it will provide you with means if you find yourself in need." The witch told her, pressing it gently into her free hand.

The witch's hand returned to the Princess' face.

"You are so much like I was, all those years ago, dumb in love." She murmured, "Keep it safe while you have it."

The sea witch pressed a gentle kiss to the Princess' forehead.

"Be gone, and may the gods of old look kindly on you and you journey, wherever it takes you." The witch called after her as she made her exit.

And the Princess turned back only once to see the witch swim away from her, with her strange tail trying to move at the same time, and the Princess had to wonder why her tail was different, why the sea witch had seen herself in the Princess but it did not matter, the Princess thought, she had her sailor to find and love.

And if the sea witch turned out correct and he did not come to love her, a world to explore.

And someplace cold and dark, in the very depths of the vast ocean an old sea witch cradles a bare skull, a small hole in it's temple and she sits on the wet sand, skull against her chest and she does not cry, for mermaids have no tears and she cannot thank her sisters for the blade that they gave their hair for, cannot thank them for the tail she earned back with the life of her prince.

But maybe she can thank them for allowing her the chance to save another from making the same mistake as she did.

For whether the child's love was returned or not, she would never return to the sea as she had, she would never have a tail that was once two legs, whose movement still sometimes made her feel as though she walked upon glass, no, that child would be free, as she never was.

[telloraevers]

The tyrant is gentle when they guide them to a room, not a cell as one might have expected.

He stood in the doorway as they looked around the room, astonished with it's plush furnishings, nothing about this room would have told them it was to be their prison.

"So you are their chosen one." The villain said quietly.

They turned to glare at the tyrant as they were reminded of their situation.

"You cannot hope to win, they won't leave me here." They yelled at the other.

"Mm, I know full well the lengths they will go through to bring you back to them, to have you fight their fight." The tyrant told them with a chuckle, "Tell me, child, did they tell you what will happen once you have ended me?"

They frowned, no they hadn't, but what did that matter, the villain was evil.

"No, I suppose they didn't, after all, they did not tell me." The villain said softly.

"What?" They asked.

"Do you know the name of their last savior, child?"

They shook their head, "No."

"I have not used my name in the last century, it was no longer mine with the way they used it, they killed their last hero, child, and they will do the same to you, I was not the first and you will not be the last." The tyrant told them gently, "They fear me because I know them, because I was once their savior."

"No!" They cried.

That was impossible, it couldn't be true.

"Yes, they found me in a world so very unlike this one, there was no magic there, and when they brought me here I burn with it. They taught me, gave me a family I could finally call my own, I had none where I came from, no that I would miss anyway." The villain sighed, "I fought their battles, I lost my friends, my family, and when I won their War they sent me back."

"No." They shook their head.

"Yes, when they were through using me they sent me back, they tore the fire from my veins until only ice remained. It took me years to find a way to return, I had hoped that those that survived would remember me, but they were dead and buried, gone because they knew the truth, that I survived that final fight and was cast aside."

The tyrant looked at the teary eyed hero.

"Tell me, child, are there any who you would miss when they banish you back to you own world?" The tyrant asked.

"They warned me that you were a liar." They snarled defensively.

"Yes, I suppose they would." The villain smiled kindly, "When they come to free you, child, I want you to do something for me."

The hero started to protest.

"Nothing that would go against your sense of right." The villain assured them.

The hero hesitated but found themself nodding.

--

They walked silently through the village, the rain soaking them through their thick cloak. The gate creaked loudly as they opened it and they winced slightly before they continued through.

The ground squelched where they stepped and muddied water splashed over their shoes and up their pant legs.

They glanced at the names carved into each stone, some faded with age, their lantern cast a sickly glow over each one as they passed them, searching for just one.

When they found it they found themselves frozen, and not from the cold.

There, carved in cold stone, was proof that the villain had not lied to them as they tried to tell themself.

They fell to their knees and sniffled, if the villain was right in this case what did that mean for them, was it still right for them to fight, what were they going to do?

The rain washed their tears away and they took a shaky breath and pulled the flame colored rose from inside their shirt where they had hidden it when they had heard the rescue party coming for them.

They set the warm rose before the stone and traced the name that was carved there.

"What did you call him, I wonder, back when he was the hero of his story, back before he became the villain of mine?" They asked the silent stone.

The grave stone did not answer but they stood up and stared at the stone for a moment longer before turning to leave.

They supposed that they had to go back to the inn where they were awaiting the rest of the rebellion, they supposed their knowledge of the truth changed nothing.

But they could not help thinking on the inscription on the cold stone that they had been asked to gift a flower to.

'Yesha, my heart, my love, may the stars hold you in their arms, my you always know the warmth of their touch, my heart is ever yours, if this is to be our last day I would do so as your husband.'

The tyrant had said that those words had been their wedding vows, that they were meant to have a life together but he'd been sent back to his original world and when he returned his heart was dead, killed for protesting his banishment.

They entered the inn and quietly made their way to their room.

It wasn't fair, they thought, how could they be so cruel? How could they separate them across worlds, how could they break love like they had?

They stripped themself of their wet clothes and redressed, they shivered, it wasn't right.

They wondered what they would have done in the villain's place, would they do the same? Would the rebellion cast them back where they found them after they were finished with them?

They didn't want to go home, they too had nothing worth returning to.

And all the while the rain continued to fall as it had since long before they came to this world.

--

A/n: little thought i had after reading a blurb about a hero being sent back to their original world and making their way back.

I figured they might be cast as the villain by those that got rid of them and that those people would probably get rid of those that knew the truth.

[telloraevers]

Hey, I’ve decided to link my Ao3 Account. I’m not sure if I will be individually linking the stories.

I’ve decided this because I have several series that I have kind of stalled on for Ideas to further them and I’d appreciate some ideas on what to write for them.

Thank you for your time and hopefully your thoughts.

P.S. If there is a story you think I should link here let me know and I will. My stories are not locked on Ao3 and do not require an account to view.

Enjoy.

[telloraevers]

Cinderella’s Godmother

When he found out she wished to go to the ball he knew what he had to do, she had no way to make or acquire a dress that would gain her entrance to the Palace.

So, he found his best dress clothes, the long red silk robe that his mother had insisted that he get for the ball and the silver coat that she had always loved.  He spent his nights cutting into the robe and his evenings stitching the dress together, it would accent her curves in a way that he knew she would want it to and the trim would highlight the blue of her eyes, there was little he could do for the shoes even if he bought them for her she would not accept them.  

When he finished the dress he crept into her little closet room in the back of her stepmother's manor and lay the dress under her mother's faded and patched quilt.

Let her believe that her fairy godmother gave her the dress, let her still believe in magic and love, he had learned better when he realized that the woman he loved would never return his affection.

When the day of the ball came he sat on the bench next to his bedroom window, it overlooked the darkening street and he watched his neighbor's front gate quietly as he waited for a glimpse of her.

His parents had left for the King's ball earlier, he had made them think he was sick, which in his mind was not such a lie as many would have thought.

He smiled as the man that stood at the gate opened it for the Lady clad in red, he saw her smile at the man as he said something to her and helped her into the carriage that the staff had pooled money to hire for her, then she was off to the Palace with a little wave back to the man at the gate.

He watched her make her way to the palace, in the morning her prince would chase after her, he would lift her up and take her to his castle and he would give her everything that she would ever desire, and in the evening his parents would lay him to rest in the family cemetery a bit of silver and red cloth twisted together around his wrist.

He stood and made his way to his bed, where he lay down, he positioned himself as though he was going to sleep and then reached over to his bedside table where a small vial sat.  he lifted it up and gazed at it for a moment before he uncorked it and drank it.

He then set the vial back on his table and then he closed his eyes and slept, never to wake again.

[telloraevers]

Prince

"I let her go." He whispered among the many voices surrounding him.

"What!" His Father shouted.

"I let her go." The young prince returned, not looking away from the window he looked at, not seeing what went on beyond the thin pane of glass.

"Why would you do that, dear?" His Mother asked from beside him, her hand settling almost like a shackle on his arm.

"She did not love me." Her child murmured.

"Love has little to do with marriage." His Father scoffed, "Especially that of a prince."

"She loves another." The prince informed them.

"So."

"I do not care to have my wife wish I were another." The prince said firmly as he finally looked at his Father.

"You are a fool." His Father snarled.

"I am dying!" The boy shouted. "You want me to have a child in the next year so that your line will not die." The prince shouted, standing forcefully, the chair he had been sitting in falling to the floor with a clatter. "Well, you want to continue your line then you sire the child, because I will not." The young man snarled before he whirled around on his heel and stormed from the room.

The prince did not stop when he passed his rooms, he did not stop at the doors to the castle, he went to the stables and mounted the horse he had asked to be ready.

The young prince fled the castle courtyard and out into the countryside.

"Let him go." The queen said quietly, placing her hand on her husband's arm.

"He needs to see reason." The king snarled.

"And what reason is that?" The queen asked. "To have a child that he will not see grow, that will never know him?"

"We will tell him stories."

"And if it is a girl?" The queen asked, "What of your plan then, he has no time, give him this if you never give him anything else."

"He would have a male child."

"So sure, husband mine?"

"And are we to try for another?"

"At least we would see it grown." The queen murmured as her husband leaned on her shoulder.

----

"There you are." The young woman laughed as the prince pulled his horse to a halt.

"I'm not late am I?"

"Ach, no, but the wee ones were getting a might worried that you weren't going to make it." The young woman explained as he climbed off of the horse, tethering it to a nearby tree.

"Here let me." The young man said lifting the bucket of water from her hands.

"Always a gentleman, aren't you.

"Only where you are concerned, my darling." The prince grinned at the woman.

"You charmer, you." She teased, eyes soft and sad.

"Had I more time to spend, I would spend it with you." He whispered quietly.

"I know, and I would let you, but you haven't the time for me and I haven't the time to spend crying."

He smiled, and lifting her hand to his lips spoke, "I'd never ask that you spend your tears for me but in happiness, you deserve no less."

"And you deserve more." She said in reply.

"I have our time, I need no more than that." He told her as the entered the clearing.

"Uncle! Uncle!" A young boy shouted when he spotted the two and came running towards them.

The prince set the bucket down to catch the boy and smiled as he lifted the child up.

"There you are, I missed you last gathering." A large set woman said as she approached them, hands on her hips.

"Couldn't get away." The prince said as he set the child breathlessly on the ground, and the young woman pulled the child back to the festivities.

"Your breathing's worse." The woman noted.

"Aye, has been since the chill set in."

"You haven't long."

"No, but I wanted to be here among this joy when I go." The prince admitted.

"Buried beneath the stars?"

"I had hoped to be sent away as one of your own, and guide you on your travels."

"Aye, that can be arranged." The woman agreed.

----

And so he went, he body burned and his spirit becoming one with the wind, and when he returned to the castle briefly he welcomed his baby sister and her twin brother, giving them a gift so to always be guided rightly by the beings of the forests.

[telloraevers]

Strong

She kept them with her, day after day after day, she carried them and never left them behind.

Each one had a place, an area that was their own, where they stayed and would remain all her days.

Her right pinky was where she kept her mother and the stories she would whisper to her in the dead of night when all others slept and kept the nightmares that swept through away with the love she carried in her voice.

On her left wrist she carried the last touch of her father as they wre separated and she was lost and left behind, she did not know if he lived or had joined her mother but regardless she carried him with her.

Her elbows, knees, ankles, and calves carried her friends, the ones that had aided her through the years with kind advice, food, a warm bed, a kiss to carry her onward.

She carried others, others who had become as her brothers and sister, carried along each rib that moved with each further breath she took, carried those that had become cousins, nephews, nieces, aunts, and uncles on her arms and thighs.

Her neck carried the touch of lost lovers, of women who had stayed briefly but loved desperately, of men who loved her but not enough to keep her, to chase after her and join her on her journey.

Her mouth carried the dreams of those left behind, those lost and buried, the ones who had stood behind her and buoyed her up and gave her strength when she might have fallen.

And over her heart she kept the one she could never forget, the one who had set her on her journey, the one she had lost, the one that had been taken from her and then thrown away like so much trash but not returned to her who had loved and wanted.

And she kept that one close and whispered the stories her mother had given her to keep the nightmares away and she fought with them, she spoke loudly and strong and she cried out until other voices joined her and all was noise around them. They cried out and screamed until they had to be heard, until their stories were known and all that was left was silence.

And she stood beside her sisters, her brothers, her friends and family and she smiled, her marks showing freely, the marks they had left behind visibale for all to see, and she smiled and let her memories fill her until all she could hear was her mother's laughter, her father singing, and the gentle cry of her lost child as they entered the world.

And, standing there amidst those she had marched with, she let them go. They had carried her far enough, she could go the rest of the way alone.

She was strong enough now to go alone.

[telloraevers]

Her

They watched her go about the town, doing chores and helping people.  When she collected her things from a stall they did not ask for payment and the out of towners asked their questions about the unassuming woman.

"Oh, her, she looks innocent, yes." One would say.

"Yes, indeed, oh, but she's waged War." Another would add.

And the inquirers would look confused, for the last war had ended ten years before and surly she could not be much older than twenty.

The villager would say nothing more, they had made a silent pact when the girl had collapsed broken and bloody and sobbing at the edges of their small town, never to speak of the child of twelve that she had been, her sword covered in the blood of her enemies, her eyes wary even filled with sorrowful tears, nor would they speak of how the broken child had climbed painfully to her feet as they approached her, her wounds bleeding heavily as she pointed her weapon at them and called out a challenge to any who dared approach.

An hour after a small child of six had approached bravely, after the girl had fallen to her knees once more.

There had been such blankness in the wounded's eyes as she watched the other child come near, when the hand around her weapon twitched the gathered townspeople had feared that she would harm the child but her fingers had unclenched from the blade and gently caressed the child's cheek and then she had passed out, some thought she had died as they moved her to their healer.

"But, she's waged war." A villager would repeat softly, "Her eyes tell the horror she's seen, the pain she has dealt, she looks innocent, but there is no innocence left within her."

And they would speak no more of the girl who helped the village and took what she needed from them  and was not asked to pay, and they would not speak on how they were never bothered by bandits or raiders, not even the last of a straggling rebellion had bothered them, some even refusing the offered refuge and healing when they saw the then still young girl leaning against one of the buildings, still recovering herself but her sword at her side.

"Oh, but she's waged war." They whispered, and then they would say nothing more, for she had never spoken about what had killed her that day and all the days before, she never said a word about the war she waged and they could never bring themselves to ask for fear of that blank gaze returning.

She'd waged war and it had destroyed whoever she had been before, now she was no one but a girl who walked among those she had protected and those left behind, and seeing them live as so many others hadn't gotten the chance to would have to be enough, enough to sooth the deep ache that had been left in her heart when she had stumbled from the battlefield victorious, from the great halls of the king who wished to reward her for the lives she had taken, her wounds untended and bleeding as she walked away from a life lived in luxury and never wanting, she had walked away from the boy-king she had destroyed rebellion for, a boy-king she had loved, but the girl she had been was lost to him, the girl he had asked to marry him had been killed once she had taken her first life and she knew even if she had remained as she was before the war they could never have been wed as they liked to dream, she had been the child of a knight, and he a prince betrothed at birth to a faraway princess, and neither of them would stand for their happiness ruining their kingdom.  

Had she still been the girl he had fallen for she might have stayed to be his mistress, being his lover would have been enough for them, their moments precious and privet over forced and public.

They would have called her his honor-guard and she would have followed him everywhere and none would think twice of her bedding down in his rooms.

But she had not been the same girl, oh, she still loved him, longed for him and wanted him, but stolen moments in secret would not be enough for her, a year killing for him and fighting to put him upon the throne that was always his, she was no longer strong enough to watch him play pretend with another, not after everything they had gone through and neither could he, after so many times of almost losing her.

Being so close and never having would have killed them and marrying one another would have brought ruin to the kingdom they had so desperately been fighting to save.

So, she had listened to the speech her boy-king's advisers had written to honor her and her deeds and then she had bowed and declined their offer of reward and said her goodbyes, her boy-king of fourteen had merely thought she would retire to the healing wards to see her wounds tended, only she had taken the large war horse that had been her father's and ridden as far as the beast could get her before failing and then she had continued alone, her blade in hand and tears falling from her eyes, telling herself that this course of action was for the best, until what little strength she had been left with after finding some strength to leave her boy-king was gone.

She had finally fallen here, at the edges of her boy-king's kingdom, their kingdom, and made a place. Made something from the nothing the war had left her with and hoped with everything that she had left that her boy-king was happy enough, as she was.

Their kingdom flourished under the young king's rule and many were pleased, and if there was a blankness in the king's eyes that matched a young girl on the outskirts of the kingdom then no path ever crossed to make such a shared thing known.

And the kingdom flourished, that was all that mattered in the end, not the two hearts broken to make it so.

"Oh, but, she's waged war," The villager would say, with a sad little twinkle in his eye.

"The king is sad and mourns someone long gone, who, he has never said." The queen would whisper softly.

"Father cries sometimes when he watches in our lessons." The young princess and prince would reveal.

The king never said a word about the honor-guard he never had and never would replace.

She never looked for a person to spend her life with and never gave a reason as to why.

:The kingdom flourished." The historians would say.

[telloraevers]

Red

It had been years and they still thought her lost to the wolf, they didn't know the beast had saved her.

She no longer wore a hood of red, no longer the innocent that had first stepped into the woods so long ago. Now she was older, her cloak stained brown from the blood of the men she'd killed.

Little girls seen safely through the woods, walking with a terrifying woman with a scar upon her face, no longer lovely, now broken and unwedable. By her side walked a great wolf, it's pelt as black as the night they fled into.

And evils never exited the woods, left to rot and be scavenged.

Little red riding hood had been a cautionary tale for young girls to keep watch for wolves but they never knew that the wolves they should fear were not the ones that ran upon four legs.

Now little red riding hood walked with wolves, her hood only red when stained with fresh blood and she hunted the wolves that should be fear and became feared herself.

Little red riding hood, to grandmother's house she went but the woods and wolves kept her.

[telloraevers]

Free

There is a lady that lives deep in the woods.

"Witch," they call her because she will have no man as her husband, "enchantress" they call her because the young girls flock to her home and the safety she promises.

There is a lady who dwells far from town, deep in the woods where no man dares walk for fear of what awaits them there.

The women seek refuge where she lives, the safety she gives.

"Witch" they cry when she wanders through town, handing out her potions and poultuces, the ones they never refuse.

"Enchantress" they scream when men offer their protection in the form of marriage.

"Devil's whore" the men sneer when she rejects them, laughs at their paltry attempts at taming her.

She is a wild thing, all women are. Some can be tempted into pretty cages where they are content to stay even with the doors wide open, other come and go as it pleases them, singing their songs of beauty and delight.

But she is a wild creature, she will never be caged, never be tamed, she will go where she likes when she likes, beholden to none but her own self.

She is a wild thing that screams in the night with the wolves' howling, she runs with the creatures of her woods until her feet bleed and leaves a trail behind marking her path.

There is a woman who dwells in the forest, she is her own woman and will never be a bride.

They call her witch, enchantress, and many other things.

She only ever calls herself Free.

[telloraevers]

Temple

The world was a strange place, he had never known that the world could be so beautiful, for so long he had been trapped and hidden away, surrounded by walls of stone, hard and unyielding.

The first time he had set foot on the cool grass, he had cried, he would willing admit such. The way the grass bent beneath his bare feet, the way it scratched at the smoothness of his skin, he’d never felt that before.

Of course he had not been permitted to enjoy the feeling for long as he’d been pulled along by his kidnapper, although he half wondered if it could really be called a kidnapping when he had come along somewhat willingly.

He had so wanted to see beyond the walls of the Temple that he’d grown up in, never allowed beyond it’s walls, never allowed to interact with any being but the Temple’s Priests, the ones that read the curved lines that marked his skin and took their meaning to those beyond the walls.

When the man had broken into the Temple, had found him wandering naked alone in the stone halls, his markings bared for any to see his eyes had widened in shock.

But he had asked, asked if he wanted to come along with him, away from the Temple.

It hadn’t taken much thought before he had agreed to go, to go beyond the Temple walls.

And for the first time in his memory he’d been offered something to hid his body away, a cloak of green, and the stranger had taken his hand and led him away, lifted him up to a ledge before following and then jumping down to the other side, helping him down behind him.

For a moment, he had been able to soak in the feeling of the grass beneath his feet, between his toes while the stranger had taken a moment, listening he supposed, and then the man was taking his hand and dragging him behind him, and they were running.

For the first time that he could remember, there was no walls between him and the outside world. 

With a stranger’s hand in his, a stranger’s strength keeping hold of him, but for the first time in his memory, he was free.

[telloraevers]

Kingdom

"Promise me, my love, promise me a crown."

"Nay, darling, i shall get you a kingdom."

[- a man promises his lover a kingdom, sets off to war for it but when he returns his lover is gone, buried in the earth.

A kingdom was won but the one it was won for will never see it.]

A man comes to the grave yard every week, sometimes more but often times only the once, not because he does not wish to come but because his duties rarely allow him even a moment's solitude much less time enough to visit.

Every time he comes the man will sit quietly speaking to a simple tombstone surrounded by flowers of many sorts and ivy that crawled up the stone, hiding the name from view.

Before the man began to visit the stone was bare, name visible to all but the man planted each flower with care and shaped the ivy with gentleness each visit and trimmed the plants back when they needed trimming and so the plants were allowed.

The first time the man came he'd come to a halt at the grave marker, falling to his knees as great sobs shook his form and rattled his armor.

For hours he sat beside the plain marker until finally he rose up and stared down at the stone for several long moments.

"I promised you a kingdom, my darling, i must go tend it now." he'd said softly before making his way from the garden of graves.

[telloraevers]

So, I think this is where I am going to post stories and things, little blurbs I think up. 

I do write fan-fiction and original stories but I am unsure whether I will be posting my fan-fictions here. 

I am willing to talk about who I ship and my fandoms but I don’t hate on other people’s ships, ship who you like, however I do not ship real people only the characters they portray, for example I ship Magnus Bane and Alexander Lightwood but not Matthew Daddario and Harry Shum Jr., I think it’s invasive and creepy to ship real life people when they are only portraying a character.

If you do not like that, that is fine but I would like you not to post hateful comments on my blog, they will be deleted and/or ignored.