Hmmm. thinking about overshot….

(I'm sorry I keep sending stuff, I promise no rush) The Lords reacting to Reader in formal wear/dressing up in much nicer clothes than they're used to

Y'all, I'm sorry, but THIS HIT ME SO HARD IT BUMPED TO THE TOP OF THE LIST. Dress up time, Let's goooo

Alcina Dimitrescu

Well now, don't you look absolutely darling!

There's a good chance she gave you the outfit herself, so that's just as much of a compliment to you as it is to her own taste, but honestly? Valid. You do look amazing. Alcina knows how to dress you.

She likes you best in sharp lines and classic looks. A lot of structured tops and loose, more flowy skirts and pants. When you also make a point to accommodate her aesthetic and use her House Colors?

She knew she liked you for a reason 💕💕

Alcina also takes this opportunity to flirt with you a bit.

Compliments, compliments, compliments until you're lightheaded with the praise.

She likes to play with your hair a lot normally, but now she's also straightening the lapels of your jacket, or undoing the ribbon on your skirt to lace it up 'properly'.

She is HANDSY.

She even pulls you in front of a mirror to make comments about how good you look next to her. A real pair, wouldn't you say? Maybe you'll dress up for her a little more often...?

With attention like this, I don't know how you'd say no...

Donna Beneviento

Oh, you like to dress up? You like to dress up and you didn't tell Donna?

She's taking this as a personal insult.

(Big Miette vibes 😠)

Angie cackles, because you're in for it now. All the dolls in the Manor have been a victim of Lady Beneviento's dress up moods at one time or another, now it's your turn!

Donna ushers you into a little room, tosses a bunch of different outfits in behind you, and tells you not to come out until you've changed. It's the most passionate you've seen her about anything.

She's given you dresses, suits, kilts, skirts, saris, pants, you name it, all in different styles, but all of it is in your size?

Turns out, Donna has been making clothes for you in her spare time. She didn't know what you liked, so she just...made everything?

You pick out something you're comfortable with and step out of the room, and Donna makes a happy little squeak noise.

YOU LOOK GREAT❤️❤️❤️!!! And it's something she made for you, so that makes it extra special!

Could you...try on something else for her? Maybe? 👉👈

(With a resigned sigh, you go back into the room. Looks like you have to cancel your afternoon plans...)

Salvatore Moreau

Respectfully, 👀👀👀

Moreau looooves you getting all dressed up. You don't have to, but you did! He's so flattered that you showed up at the reservoir in something so fancy. The fact that you think he's worth the effort is just... so nice!!!

He wishes he could host you somewhere other than his rinky dink little house, but he'll make the best of it!

(He also wishes he had something of his own that was even just a little bit fancy. If the both of you dressed up he could almost call this a date...)

His favorites to see on you are loose, airy silks or comfortable, soft textures. It's so delicate, it feels like a perfect fit for you!

He also loves the way the wind goes through it, it makes you look like a painting ❤️

Because he's going on and on about it, and he's so obviously enamored with the idea of feeling of it between his fingers, you let him touch your outfit. He puts his hand on it, letting out little appreciative noises, when suddenly his fingers press down a little bit, making the fabric slide gently against your skin and--uh--

😳

Salvatore needs a minute. Maybe even a long swim.

Karl Heisenberg

Well shit, now he has to mess you up! 😔

You do look very nice, and Karl will definitely give you a little wolf whistle in appreciation, but he is also a gremlin with very little impulse control. You're getting a noogie, do not attempt to resist.

Smack his hands away all you like, but the minute you let your guard down, Heisenberg will mess with a part of your outfit. He'll undo your tie, pop open a button, steal a piece of jewelry, just make a general menace of himself. If you really complain, he'll stop and apologize, but he's satisfied since you look a little less formal.

Actually... Something about you dressed to the nines but with your hair all ruffled and a big grin on your face, uh... Kind of does it for him?

Like, he was the one who popped open the button on your jacket and made it fall open. He was the one who snapped the strap on your dress and gave you that mark on your skin. He made you breathless from laughter with his comments on your 'fancy schmancy' outfit.

You were so put together, and he made you just a little bit undone.

...Karl shakes off his blush and throws an arm around your shoulder. These are thoughts for later.

SJTR is my villain origin story

So I finished Stalking Jack the Ripper.

Originally I told myself that I was going to just stick it out and read the next one (“Oh, it’s about vampires and Dracula. It’s probably more fun. You can forget all about the pain this one inflicted on you"). No. I got 12% of the way through and had to DNF. So here are my messily compiled thoughts on the book, basically expanded from the last post. Honestly, kind of feel free knowing I won’t be writing more about this series. (Also I am adding some TWs down below but don't know if I am doing them right!)

More on the exoticism, weirdness with Audrey Rose's Indian mother, and the British Empire:

In chapter 14, we read, "Dark strands of hair were piled atop my head, my eyes more mysterious somehow with the dark liner, and my lips were the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood … I thought of my mother and the saris she’d brought me to wear from Grandmama’s homeland. I felt just as stunning now as I did then, and the memory warmed me.” I am still trying to figure out why Maniscalco made Audrey Rose mixed race. Why is Audrey Rose’s grandmother from India? Literally, what did it add to the story? Was it nothing more than just a cute lil quirky fun character trait to her? I don’t think I missed any key moments where there were important conversations about race, imperialism, British occupation, etc., mostly because Audrey Rose’s father (a big fancy rich lord) is a white man and because Audrey Rose is white-passing. I can’t recall any moments in the book where she faces the realities/consequences of being a socially mobile POC WOMAN in LONDON IN THE 1880s. Honestly, if someone else can point out a passage I glossed over or explain some nuance I missed I would actually really appreciate it, because this drove me CRAZY.

(Audrey Rose and her brother also go visit a circus in town in chapter 15; of course these events existed purely for England/colonizing countries to exercise and display their power and to exoticize/exploit the communities/cultures that they came into contact with. Audrey Rose sees silks, beads, etc. that remind her of her grandmother’s saris, smells the foods of her family’s “homeland,” etc. Also in the same chapter there’s this great scene where her brother is describing their mother and father’s marriage: “Grandmama told me she’d refused him twenty times just for fun,” Nathaniel replied. “Said he squirmed like a cobra in a basket. That’s how she knew he was in love.” Uhhh … Is that supposed to be romantic?)

On the feminism stuff:

I am too *gestures vaguely* to write much more on this. Yeah, it’s heavy-handed. Yeah, it’s cringey. But at the end of the day, it’s not really that harmful, I guess. Here’s just a fun sampling of some of my favorite lines from the book:A few of my favorite bites from the book:

***“close-minded society” (chapter 21) Okay

***"Why turn a murderer of women into front-page news?” (chapter 15) Bro do you know how the media works

***"But what of her [mother’s] insistence that I could be both strong and beautiful? Surely Father had to be wrong.” (chapter 21) Yes girl you are strong and beautiful!

***"There would be no skirts or bustles to wrangle with anymore. I was through with things confining me” (chapter 22) Ugh down with corsets just another tool of the patriarchy amirite

On the violence against women, weird classism, and stuff about prostitution:

I was bound to be uncomfortable about a lot of this because I have weird feelings about true crime stuff, and this is historical fiction set around the Jack the Ripper murders. It was going to go sour somewhere.

Consistently Audrey Rose wants to be sympathetic, but is unable to connect all the parts of this situation together: she struggles to imagine the women (very real-life victims) beyond their lives of prostitution, poverty, squalor. When she does, we see something like this: "The women he murdered did matter ... They were daughters and wives and mothers and sisters” (chapter 28). Oftentimes she wishes she could continue to cut cadavers open in peace (women in science!) without having to think about how those cadavers came to be on her examination table: “I needed to get away from those women and their tragic lives before my emotions got the better of me” (chapter 25). Perhaps Maniscalco deserves more credit here, and perhaps I’m just being a bitch, because Audrey Rose is a very privileged girl and her actions and thoughts make that clear. It’s just that the conclusions she comes to in the name of feminism, justice, etc. weren’t at all satisfying to me.

Also: OH MY GOD. Oh my god. There is this one moment that is BRANDED AGAINST THE GRAY MATTER OF MY BRAIN FOREVER and I will never forget it. At one point, Audrey Rose and love interest Thomas decide the best thing they can do is go out and—yes—stalk Jack the Ripper. To do this, they know they need to “blend in” with the crowds in East End. So … like … cosplaying as poor people? Audrey Rose manages to find and wear the dress of ONE OF THE MURDER VICTIMS (long story short her medical doctor uncle was in a relationship with this woman and when she died he acquired her worldly possessions). It’s like, so fucked up, I can’t even describe my reaction when I read it. In chapter 25 we read, "The dress was a little too old, a little too ragged, a bit too big. If I were to wear this ghastly dress out, I’d look as if I belonged in the East End, begging for work to feed my addictions … It was absolutely perfect.” Oh my god. And THAT’S NOT EVEN THE WORST PART. While they’re “stalking Jack the Ripper” on this incredibly stupid mission, the two main characters just … make out in an alley. Like, okay. People are being murdered and you’re wearing a dead woman’s dress and you suspect your father of being guilty, but yeah, that kind of stuff makes us all a little horny. Super relatable. Absolutely no concept of reality or consequences or anything at all.

Another random note on class: I noticed the only time Maniscalco writes in dialects/accents, she’s writing seedy/working-class characters. Not saying this is a problem unique to Maniscalco’s writing by a longshot, but ... something to think on. (I think it’s ingrained in a lot of author’s writing habits/minds at this point.)

Weird stuff about the dad, the brother, and what justice means to Audrey Rose:

I had to add a whole new highlighting color for this stuff!

Any growth Audrey Rose might’ve shown over the course of the novel—anything about how these women mattered, and how they deserved justice as any “highborn” individual might, simply by dint of being humans—goes away when she and Thomas come to the conclusion that the Ripper murders must have been committed by Audrey Rose’s father. She realizes her moral dilemma when she contends with the harsh reality: if her father is the Ripper, can she turn him into the authorities? Audrey Rose worries how that might impact her own moral virtue: "They’d hang Father. Given who he was, they’d make it as public and brutal as possible. Just because blood might stain his hands did not mean I wanted his on mine. No matter if it was right or wrong” (chapter 24). First of all, BITCH. You have to. You have to report this kind of thing. No ifs, ands, or buts. I HAVE to imagine Maniscalco’s intended audience would feel the same? It’s? Serial murder? Second: Audrey Rose, baby, sweetie, honey. This is just a reminder that ACAB. I actually don’t know a whole lot about how the late Victorian criminal justice system functioned, but something tells me her family's public outlook would’ve been less bleak than she imagines here.

Lucky for Audrey Rose, her dad isn’t guilty in the end—but her brother sure is. He’s a mad scientist, using the brutalized bodies and souvenirs of his victims for Frankenstein-style experiments. Ultimately, he wants to reanimate the corpse of his and Audrey Rose’s long-dead mother, and he believes he can achieve this by transplanting fresh organs into ? Her dead and decomposed body? The thing is that, this moral dilemma persists for Audrey Rose—and her dad, too. He pressures her not to bring the little matter of Nathaniel’s issue—you know, his casual murder of a number of local women—to Scotland Yard: “They’ll have your brother hanged,” he said quietly. “Could you honestly watch that happen? As a family, have we not suffered enough?” (chapter 29). Nathaniel electrocutes himself to evade capture by the authorities, and Audrey Rose and her father feel relief. The book ends by confirming that "Lord Edmund covered up Nathaniel’s involvement, I didn’t ask how. One day I’d let everyone know the truth, but the pain was too raw now” (chapter 30).

((Side note: Listen. I knew Nathaniel had something sinister going on from the GET-GO (I’m not trying to be obnoxious) because he basically started some nighttime vigilante group called the Whitechapel Knights of Justice or whatever bullshit, I don’t know. All I know is that my red flags IMMEDIATELY started going off because that sounds exactly like the terrible and awful Crusader cosplay clubs from my (bad) Catholic childhood, where everyone thinks they’re a knight for Good but really they’re the bad guy.))

Overall, kind of ...

I think one of my biggest issues with this ending was … You have already stepped into a realm of fantastical revisionist history here in writing such a fictionalized version of these real-life events. (I know Maniscalco is far from the first to do it.) That means that the rules you are playing by are essentially your own—evidenced by the liberties she points out in her Author’s/Historical note (dates changed for convenience or storytelling purposes, real-life individuals changed for narrative purposes, etc.). So WHY would you not conclude this fantasy retelling of the Jack the Ripper murders by meting out some form of justice? I hear the counterargument: "Well, because we still don’t know the culprit today. This book would ring hollow if it named someone since historians, forensic scientists, etc. still don’t know who committed these crimes." My question: is that really a problem though? This is a work of fiction. Nothing in history happened the way it is written here. Is it crueler to the women who were murdered and who remain spectacles for true crime junkies and authors like this, less satisfying to readers who want some more concrete kind of closure, to not offer that up? I am asking this in earnest here, because I don’t know. Maybe it is insensitive to make up a murderer, to fill in the gaps in order to make sense of the violence that happened. But in my brain it feels almost like a responsibility at this point, since these murders served as the backdrop for the romance between Audrey Rose and Thomas, for the background to Audrey Rose’s empty feminist diatribes, and as inspiration for a book that went on far longer than it needed to. To me it kind of feels like the least an author could do, but I have no clue.

Anyways, I'm just glad I get to put this series to bed. No more.I truly lost sleep over it this weekend. Onto something better, please, for the love of god.

Drops of Jupiter 🍋

~ In which a secretive barhand explores the city with a fiery historian...

Music: “Drops of Jupiter” by Train

This fic is a rollercoaster. You can thank the chaos kitties. They crave the chase and the drama. Kannan @atypicalacademic​ thank you once again for letting me borrow the incredible and fierce Balam Maitreya! 💖

~ 2.4k words

cw: biting 

Khleo didn’t get to spend much time exploring the city unless she was making deliveries. So she made the most of this moment with Balam in the sun, floating along the channels in a gondola. Khleo had packed a picnic basket with a light lunch, some wine, and something special for later...

***

The broad, balanced architecture of the Temple District gradually morphed into the bleached minarets of Center City. Khleo hardly noticed these things as she drifted along in the gondola. Sitting across from her was her date, Balam Maitreya – a dedicated historian of dreams and prophecy by day, and an even more dedicated bar-hopper by night. In a sense, Balam and Khleo were kindred spirits. Both were workaholics, but for very different reasons.

Balam had already relieved Khleo of her left boot. She didn’t bother removing the candy mint green stocking as she pulled the barhand’s leg into her lap and worked her ink-stained fingers into the grooves of Khleo’s sore feet.

Despite the special treatment, Khleo was intent on giving Balam a hard time. 

“Didn’t find what you were looking for,” Khleo said, pointedly eyeing Balam’s hands, “so you decided to keep digging until your fingers bled?”

Balam didn’t think Khleo would have been able to detect the evidence of such beneath the layers of ink and library dust. No one else had.

“Oh, so you noticed.” Balam said it with a cheery laugh, throwing in a flirtatious wink for good measure. 

Khleo, who didn’t bat an eye, folded her strong arms over her chest. “I can smell it.”

Balam rolled her eyes and shoved Khleo’s foot to the side. “Well, since we’re pointing fingers today, what’s your excuse? You claim I don’t give myself enough breaks, but have you tasted your own medicine lately, Khlee von Heine?”

“Hey.” Khleo flopped her foot back on Balam’s lap. “Watch your mouth.” Her words had bite, but her tone was too playful. 

Balam gave a wry smile and went back to massaging Khleo’s feet. The barhand got a bit more comfortable in her seat and flexed her toes against Balam’s fingers. 

“You can’t tell me that I don’t practice what I preach. Besides, you’re leaving out some important factors, Tiger.”

Without taking her eyes away from her task, Balam arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d love to hear this. Go on.”

Khleo turned her head, looking out at the passing city for the first time.

“It’s called not having a choice. My boss, for example, can go eat shit. The job doesn’t pay enough. Nothing really does unless you have the money to study somewhere. And I never did so… do the math. Just to make ends meet, I did the crime thing for a while. Wasn’t for me. You on the other hand…”

The truth was, Balam never revealed why she was in such a relentless rush to achieve the impossible. So Khleo had to follow her own line of assumptions.

“You are your own worst enemy.” Finally, Khleo turned her attention back to Balam. “Aren’t you, cub?”

The gondola turned the corner into Goldgrave. There was music in the streets. The watery path became more and more narrow, bridges and walkways hugging the space around them at closer proximities than in the previous districts. 

Balam, looking for a way to distract the barhand from spoiling the date with more uncomfortable conclusions, got up and clambered out of the gondola onto a nearby wall. 

“What are you up to?” Khleo mused.

Balam didn’t answer as she matched the pace of the gondola as well as the rhythm sounding off in the distance. She skittered along the winding, narrow wall on slightly bent knees, twirling in place every so often. Her wrists took to the air, twisting and fanning, waving and beckoning.

Balam’s sari, a compelling patchwork of reds and golds, was wrapped in a way that allowed for movement and flair. Despite the way Balam made her bangles sing, her skirts ripple, and her bejeweled cobra tattoo charm all the curious passerby, it was her mastery over her eyebrows and facial muscles that captured and held Khleo’s attention.

The barhand watched while she put her boot back on. Then she licked her lips, paid the gondolier, and joined Balam on the wall because, well, two could certainly play that game.

Khleo came as close as she dared while tucking her arms behind her and folding her hands against the small of her back before matching Balam’s pace with a dance of her own.

Spine ramrod straight and shoulders squared, Khleo demonstrated absolute control as she followed Balam along the narrow stretch of wall. She never once looked down at her feet, which unlike her stiff upper body, moved with alarming swiftness. One wrong step and Khleo could topple directly into the channel.

Balam definitely noticed. “Show off.”

Khleo smirked and waited for the path to open up a bit before ducking and dancing circles around Balam. She sped up, flirting more with the threat of falling. Then she asked, “Isn’t your apartment in this district?”

When Balam said yes, Khleo finally put an end to her dancing. Then she bolted and chased down the gondola before it could get away, cursing under her breath about a forgotten picnic basket.

“Just leave it!” Balam laughed, “I’ll get you a new one.”

But the barhand only shook her head, shouting over her shoulder that this one was special. When the two had finally reached the apartment, Balam asked why Khleo nearly got soaking wet just to get the basket back.

Khleo waited until the two of them were in Balam’s room with the door shut and locked before revealing the bewitched toy that she usually kept under the counter back at the bar. It came with a leather harness, worn and weathered from use. 

Balam, doing her best to hide her excitement, settled on the edge of her bed and snorted, “You brought that on a lunch date?”

Khleo shrugged, tucking the strap back inside the basket for later. “I had a hunch I would need it.” 

Balam watched the wicker lid fall shut. “Nice hunch.”

Khleo approached the bed, her dark brown eyes tracking where all the lines of red and gold overlapped in Balam’s sari. She reached for it, but Balam stopped her. “You just relax, Firecat. I got it.”

Khleo only answered with heated kisses. She fought the urge to push forward until Balam was on her back. 

“I want you to show me how it comes off,” Khleo purred. “Or else I’m going to be wondering after I leave and it’s going to drive me crazy.”

Balam slowed down, drawing Khleo’s hands to her waist. “Are you watching closely?”

Their foreheads met in the middle as Balam began her demonstration.

“Yeah,” was the barhand’s soft reply. “I’m watching.”

The reds, the golds – they loosened and unraveled under the barhand’s watchful gaze until there was nothing but the warm brown of Balam’s skin and the vibrant gem pattern of the cobra snaking up her arm. 

As Khleo drank her in, she noticed another tattoo just above her ribs – lionheart etched in gold.

Balam shivered when Khleo tapped it with the tips of her fingers. The barhand elicited more reactions from the other as she brushed against nipples that were alive and dark, much like the historian’s eyes. 

Balam wondered why Khleo hadn’t bothered to undress herself when it became clear that the barhand was waiting. With slightly shaking hands, Balam undid Khleo’s uniform, bringing herself every so often to kiss her freckled lips. 

The clothing came off until they were both fully aware of the other. Finally, they came together, freckles against tattoos and disruptions of brown in the curves that didn’t get to see the sun. Khleo’s blunt teeth against Balam’s sharper canines. Balam’s delicate mewling under Khleo’s rumbling purrs. 

Khleo tipped Balam onto her back, giving all of her body, listening to her partner sigh and grow comfortable under the weight. Khleo wedged her thigh between Balam’s so she could relieve just a little bit of the pressure that steadily kept building.

Khleo was satisfied with kissing, but her partners were usually demanding something by now. Khleo asked what she almost never had to. “What do you want?” She drew back to look at Balam. 

The historian hesitated. “I want you to take me. Wherever you want. However you want.”

Khleo couldn’t help sensing some underlying addition to that first request. An unspoken away from here if she had to describe it. But she ignored the feeling for now.

Khleo kissed Balam’s forehead. “Don’t move.”

She didn’t go far. The barhand entered a sort of trance as she got up and adjusted her harness. Already her body longed to be warm against Balam’s again. And very soon she was.

Balam knew Khleo’s terms. The talking, the crying out – keep it to yourself. She didn’t need to be told twice. This concerned Khleo – she expected a little pushback – but not nearly as much as it excited her. She wrapped herself around Balam as one would a pillow. One arm was snug around her middle while she used the other to cushion Balam’s head of disheveled midnight curls. Khleo’s hand rested on her partner’s crown, gathering and loosening in the hair there. 

Balam became fully engaged in Khleo’s embrace, crossing her own strong legs around the barhand’s waist, squeezing her satisfaction into Khleo’s sides. And gods… she was so warm. Everywhere.

Khleo was met with no resistance when she started to really move, not even when she bit into Balam’s shoulder. No cry came forth. Balam’s only reaction was the roll of shivers passing from her head to her toes. Khleo instantly read what it meant and bit her again, harder this time, thrusting properly as she did so. 

Balam twitched and groaned. “Nnn!” 

That was all Khleo was going to get she supposed. Balam had never felt so close and yet so distant from her. Khleo couldn’t put her finger on it. As much as she craved submission, this didn’t feel quite like that. 

The barhand nuzzled her partner and held her tighter until she felt her ribs strain against the pressure. But Balam was still getting further away. As if she was trying to use this moment to escape whatever infinite ache had inked itself into her fingers. 

Khleo, who was beyond the realm of speaking, mouthed her concern against Balam’s neck.

Where are you? Stay with me. With me!

As if Khleo had lit a match in Balam, the historian exploded with a fierce sound and heaved Khleo to the left. The two of them rolled too fast, too suddenly, which landed them in a heap on the floor. The barhand scrambled back in position.

Balam welcomed Khleo’s return, but not without raking her nails against the barhand’s freckled skin before promptly biting into her shoulder. 

This time it was Khleo who cried out.

The bite spoke volumes, reminding the barhand of Balam’s request when this all started.

I want you to take me.

So Khleo took Balam until the latter came all the way. Afterwards, while Khleo stimulated her partner through the aftershocks of her orgasm, Balam went back to her tiny mewls, licking the fresh puncture wounds she had left in Khleo’s skin. 

Then Khleo pulled out, climbed back onto the bed where it was more comfortable and sat upright on her knees, taking a moment to breathe and cool off. There was so much fire between herself and Balam, she felt like her skin might be cooking in hot oil.

When Khleo looked down, she saw that Balam had joined her on the bed and was now trying to edge towards her pelvis, but she wasn’t going for the strap. Khleo reached for her hair, snatching her up just in time.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Balam batted her lashes. “Can I just have a taste?”

Khleo nudged the toy against her partner’s cheek. “Of what? Yourself? It’s right here.”

Balam’s eyes grew dark. “No. Of you, Firecat. I want to taste you.”

Khleo grimaced. “I’m not on the menu today.” Truthfully, she was in no mood to direct Balam in how gentle she needed to be with her.

Balam batted her eyelashes again and made her eyebrows dance just like she did when they were floating along the channel.

Khleo felt her resolve break the longer Balam carried on. “Damn the gods.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” She dipped her head, but Khleo needed to reestablish some authority.

“Take this thing off of me first. Then you can have a taste.”

Balam was happy to do it. When Khleo was free, she let go of Balam’s hair to grant her more mobility. The historian lifted one of Khleo’s legs onto her shoulders, all the while holding her gaze.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Tiger. You’re only getting a–”

Balam was too fast. She practically hooked her jaw to Khleo’s slit before emptying out her tongue deep between her sensitive walls. Khleo was paralyzed by the teasing bauble of Balam’s tongue ring as it dragged in places where she didn’t even know that sort of sensation was possible.

Khleo felt her eyes roll back despite her efforts to maintain some shred of control.

“Son of a–”

The barhand gracelessly toppled backwards into a heap of blankets and fumbled for purchase in Balam’s hair. The historian meanwhile continued her hungry pursuit, grabbing onto Khleo’s outer thighs and giving her everything she had.

Khleo’s raspy voice fought to be heard. “Balam – you can’t – I’m too sensitive – just… Oh fuck!”

Khleo wasn’t sure if she came or just suffered a sudden override of stimulation. Whatever it was caused her to squirm roughly out of Balam’s hold. The historian sat up and smirked. “Sorry. One lick would have never cut it for me. I had to… Khleo?”

She crawled over and sidled up to the barhand from behind. “What happened? Are you okay? Did I–”

“I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I never told you.”

“Told me what?”

Khleo sighed. “That was too much too soon. You have to go slow with me.”

Balam’s black eyes smarted. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you that it’s fine.” She rolled over to face her partner. “You’re fine.” She pressed a kiss to Balam’s wet cheek. 

“No.” Balam closed her eyes. “I’m too much.”

“Damn it, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re enough. Tiger, look at me. You’ll always be enough for me, you hear me?”

She didn’t let Balam answer. She didn’t want to hear the denial if there still was one. Instead, Khleo ignored that shared unchecked heat and held fast to Balam. The barhand’s kisses were slow and thorough as she reached blindly behind her until she found a blanket. She pulled it over, wrapping them both up in darkness, eliminating the options for Balam to hold onto anything else except her partner. 

Khleo created the illusion that there was nothing, no one else in the universe but them.

6 Weird Tracks of IPKKND

Version: What were the creatives thinking? - wait - poor guys and women knew what was happening and with the way ITV (Indian Television) works, we know who might have stuck their nose and ruined things #ilovenandsupportwritersandcreators #letIndiantvcomeinseasonsandworkwonders

TL;DR The Taming of Lavanya Kashyap

- Why dress up as Khushi 2.0? Why forget that Lavanya is a damn suave working woman? (Saved by Lavanya & Khushi’s friendship).

The Whole Arnav-Is-Murderer, Suicide, Arnav’s Misunderstanding Reveal Track

- Arnav, an atheist, would murder his wife because of astrological implications in his birth chart? 

- If a woman is convinced that her husband can kill her, it’s not funny. 

- Suicide is NOT funny. 

The Kidnapping Track

- Khushi as Bond? Replacing petrol with water (no... I know she can save him but no...)? The hut? Masala Mama? Private Detective?

Let’s do Rasam & Suhaagraat Attempt 1.2

- When logic was missing in both of their heads. 

- Also, there’s a DIFFERENCE between DISCOMFORT and being BASHFUL.

Aarav - Arnav 2.0

- When the whole family thinks it’s cute to tell a woman how her husband’s ex’s child looks similar to her husband. Aww. 

The Mrs. India ‘Contest’

- The dresses, ‘rounds’ and Khushi’s amazing disbelief in herself. Wasn’t this the same woman who once said that life is not measured by a mere challenging win and loss to Lavanya, Sim & Pam? Was this not the same woman who was proud to be the way she was? The curious case of Khushi losing her intelligence *cry* And every 4 Lions show post this has had fantastic fashion sense... why? 

The Taming of Lavanya Kashyap

Alright, before anyone gawks at me let me put it out that I know this was Indian television and this was the time when the poor writers were kind of forced to make this show more family friendly as this romantic (and initially dark) show was aired on Star Plus and not Star One.

So I don’t have a problem with the idea per se. In fact it’s a fantastic, clever and ingenious way of getting Khushi into Shantivan. What I have a problem with is with the values they impart on what being a woman is.

Anjali, for me, is the quintessential sanskaari yet lovable character. She smiles and is elated at the thought of tradition. Although she complains and pushes her brother to follow rituals - it’s all done in light humor. When things get serious, she is more concerned about the grey aspects of his life and is painfully aware that her brother is still haunted by the shadows of his past. 

So perhaps after crafting a character who can be adorably traditional yet sensible, it puzzled me to no end as to what crap in the world was Khushi teaching Lavanya; tea bags v/s tea leaves, marry if you want the man to stick with you, marriage is the only important social marker of a woman (?), no man wants to marry a modern woman so dress up like a bride to be seen as a bride (wtf).  And alright, we can excuse Khushi on the fact that she has been raised in a highly conservative society, it’s extremely troubling when ASR tells Lavanya to chose between being at home or working in the office (if I am wrong, please correct me).  All of this could have just been more... appropriate. Yes, Lavanya turning out as this lovable, slightly goofy yet terribly honest and perceptive woman stole my heart. I loved that part from the bottom of my heart. But the journey to being there - not too much. 

- I would have loved a scene where Khushi would get to know Lavanya. About her boundaries. Her lifestyle and upbringing in London (? - she gives NRI vibes). The way her family isn’t connected (the gasp everyone has when Lavanya says she isn’t connected to her cousin is NORMAL, people don’t keep connections), Lavanya’s own struggle to rise in the fashion industry and her eventual friendship and love to ASR. This scene would give growth to Khushi to not judge a woman by the length of her skirt and Lavanya too that just because Khushi came from a conservative household does not mean she’ll keep her judgements. 

- ONE scene where Khushi would have asked the family to change Arnav, just as Lavanya is changing for Arnav. It would be nice to see the Lavanya and Khushi growing protective towards each other over time as this is the first time either would be making honest friends. And a nice mirror to the society’s refusal of changing their boys (we had Balika Vadhu at the same time so this wouldn’t be too difficult. If going religious then men too should idolize Shri Ram and be virtuous if they expect all the women to be Sitas).

- Lastly, a mature conversation about Arnav’s reluctance to marry (not the weird Shivanya Sharanya - marriage does not guarantee character or fidelity - *cough* Shyam Manohar Jha *cough* Arnav’s dad?). Lavanya’s worry should have stemmed from Arnav’s reluctance to marry her. [One wonderful scene to throwback is when Anjali quickly perceives that her brother is not so much against marriage as he is against marrying Lavanya - the first time Tu Hi Bata Mere Maula plays].

#thissectionrantisover

The Whole Arnav-Is-Murderer, Suicide, Arnav’s Misunderstanding Reveal Track

What in the Lord’s name was that? I... I don’t have words. First of all Khushi believing that a clearly atheist Arnav married her because of astrological errors in his birth chart? Just because she saw it on news? There’s one thing about Khushi being cute and other being idiotic. 

Also... I did not crack a single smile when she imagined Arnav to have poisoned her tea or smother her in her sleep. The belief that your husband can murder you for his own benefit is VERY TROUBLING. This is what a lot of spouses fear in a relationship where there’s constant domestic abuse. Maybe I’m being picky because I’ve seen a lot of victims terrified, truly, because of how their partners could kill them and it is far away from being hilarious. 

Nobody in a marriage should be convinced that their spouse can kill them - if they are convinced then this is RED FLAG for something serious. It’s never funny. 

And oh dear, Khushi trying to attempt suicide. WHO THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY? I refuse to believe the writers weren’t intelligent because from whatever little I’ve read from Gautam’s thoughts and interviews - he’s an amazing intellectual with the sharpest of minds and someone who knows and is sensitive about mental health among other things. And in fact as what phati-sari (a fantastic IPKKND blogger) said, writers are paid and trained to bring great things on the table.

So yes, for whatever reasons they know best, this scene was off the hook. I could not laugh and felt like there was a stone lodged in my throat for all of the episodes. A person attempting suicide is NOT funny. 

And honestly it didn’t make sense that in front of Arnav’s eyes Khushi was going to commit suicide because she believed Arnav loved someone else and then he thought that of course, she totally does not have feelings for him. 

The fight - independently - is fine. I get it that something explosive had to have happened for Arnav to spill why he married her and I so sorely wish it was something else. 

The Kidnapping Track

So by now you know that I don’t blame the people for how they handled the track because unlike Western content Indian television shoots for 12-16 hours daily, hats off! So the writers, actors, production - all did their best. 

Again, NO problem with the idea of getting Arnav kidnapped - AMAZING. And may I say I was a little happy to see him get into such a big trouble because she told him to believe her and he didn't. Sorry, I am evil. 

The biggest problem is everything else. While it’s amazing to see Khushi and Manorama unite in this crisis, it was a cringe fest with Khushi and Manorama all going Detective James Bond over this. On top of that Masala Mama and the Babli hangover was... pointless? 

If anything, I think this would be a great time for Khushi to realize all the lies that could have been fed to Arnav. Like of course Arnav saw them on the terrace, but how could he have been so sure that Khushi loved Shyam passionately, was ready to have an affair until these vile thoughts were supplemented by Shyam? 

A good time to fester Khushi’s hatred for Shyam to an extent that she doesn’t follow the typical Indian code of avoid-your-molester-and-keep-quiet-of-his-harrassment. Also, instead of having Akash and Payal as separate components to this story, it would have been great if Akash and Payal started having doubts on Khushi’s marriage on the first place.

It would be great if Akash already got a sense of Payal hiding something and he would keep on reassuring her with the belief she could tell him anything and then when the Shyam thing blew up it would have explained that Akash would have supported Payal and Khushi had Payal trusted him.

Anyways, it was wonderful to see Khushi rescuing Arnav - a nice knight in distress and damsel in shining armor. I liked the dreams they shared - the Teri Meri was stunning and hot and I was in no hurry to see an awkwardly executed consummation sequence where honestly the tension fizzed and both looked like they were drunk to perform near rapey scene (honestly the closeups were weird, the ones where you can see both of them kinda looks hot). Also, the logic to keep your wife buried in hay in the middle of nowhere and not attempt to keep running - ? 

And I wish she once told Arnav that she knew he was in trouble because if everything was normal, he would have not said it. He preferred to not see her face in most occasions. *angst*

I honestly loved the initial things that Khushi was doing - her fear, inability to not think of anything except Arnav, logging London hours and times of his meetings, suspicion on the one man who hates them both - everything a woman can do when everything seems ‘normal’. The desperation totally built to a full blown making out session whenever they would meet. 

I am pro Arnav Khushi consummation - duh - like if they literally did it in the boxes after that nose touch and intense eye sex while hiding from all the goons - yup, do it in those boxes!

Let’s do Rasam & Suhaagraat Attempt 1.2

There are many ways to propose to your husband to marry again. Telling him their marriage is invalid because they didn’t do rituals and hence might end up being inappropriate to the society - talk about a turn off. 

This also happens after they’ve shared a bed, shy moments, and consummation attempt 1.1 (ugh, the hut). Also I think Arnav is experienced, at least more knowledgable than Khushi when it comes to sex so I think he would get consent? 

There is, again, NOTHING FUNNY about teasing your spouse to have sex when they’ve NEVER had it and are VISUALLY TERRIFIED about it. 

Arnav, you know foreplay - the dancing, Diwali, nose brushing by boxes while goons run around, the passion dancing at your *weird* Honeymoon (bang worthy moments) - SO WHY FREAK HER OUT! 

It hurts because Khushi looks so damn gorgeous in those curls and red/pink ensemble. It’s also weird because just for those moments Khushi turns into a passionless, freaked out woman. 

It’s very natural. I just so wish it was mutual attraction and Khushi putting a pause to the consummation despite her body’s desire to do so because she wants to marry him and wants to have some beautiful memories associated and probably knows what’s her status in his life cause he does interchange “you’re my wife” and “you’re nothing” often. 

Also, never got the Radha Krishna reference. They’re the paramount of love. So... the topic of remarriage could’ve been stronger with Akash getting Payal a marriage gift for their six month anniversary and Khushi getting afraid of that because we all know what’s going to happen at the end of six months. 

Also this episode hurts because both Arnav and Khushi look so hot. He’s in his black best with the perfect amount of gel to let a few stray hair strands flicker and Khushi is *dreamy sigh*

Aarav - Arnav 2.0

I, for the life of me, could not understand this track at all. Khushi’s fears were made so dramatic and illogical that I honestly cringed the way she approached this. Like honestly she was panicking for nothing and ready to set her bags. (The moment where Arnav hugged her and told her not to leave was very sweet, but apart from that everything was very weird).

The revelation was like one weird sudden fact build up and I’m like... ok? And infantilizing Khushi in front of Aarav was very weird. I felt bad for Arnav over here. The way Khushi confuses him, confuses me to no end! Also what’s with the double standard of Sheetal being all modern and there’s no problem and Khushi looking very weird, dated and honestly immature as hell in front of her (I’m not going to talk about the embarrassing basketball scene, nor of Khushi being a peon).

What irked me the most was the whole family suddenly clinging to Sheetal and Aarav FOR NO REASON.

It’s like Sheetal became a part of the house FOR NO REASON. EVERYONE LOVES AARAV BECAUSE HE’S JUST LIKE ARNAV and Aarav has done nothing to be remotely attached to anyone so I’m just lost here.

Aarav is honestly very mean to Khushi and really disrespects her and I find it weird that his temper is praised - which can all evolve to problematic behaviors as an adult.

Aarav doesn’t know how to take no. Has issues in dealing with obedience, respect and is pretty disrespectful to women (except his mother) and nowhere is it even showed that things get better as he feels more acclimatized in the house but no he just has a sudden bout of ‘oh she’s my mum’. 

I find this troubling because all in all Arnav was always immensely respectful of his family and especially the women in his family and we can say that true Aarav is also scarred on learning his ‘mother’ utilized him against a man he considers his father - who is not his dad... but, to stop rambling, Aarav had a lot of potential of growth too. 

To think about it, Lavanya’s rudeness with the househelp (even after she was drenched in water) was immediately taken as that she’s a terrible human being and Aarav’s temper is taken as a great attitude. 

Anyways, according to my head cannon I think Aarav grows up to be a sweet, fun boy who is highly intelligent, slightly naughty, introvert but internally loves his family to bits and pieces - like young Arnav. 

The Mrs. India ‘Contest’

What happened here? What’s with all the ‘models’ and ‘trainers’ and Khushi’s self confidence? The way she keeps on repeating “I am no way close to the other women,” wait... when did she lose her self confidence or esteem?

*sigh*

Also Khushi was very blind over here, so much so that it felt like Khushi never worked in his company and never had a taste of working in a fashion house. Phati-Sari wrote an amazing alternative to this - you should check her Tumblr!

Notable qualifier: 

Mr. I Will Bulldoze Your House Singh Raizada

Why did he think that threatening her paralyzed father, aged aunt and mother to face the fact that she was forced to elope to a six month marriage and basically now getting divorced which can cause her only family to suffer a heart attack romantic? I don’t know how she goes back home and is ok with it. The power play over here is kind of dirty and sad. ‘Cause the 24 hour track was fantastic, a pity to end it in this humiliating conversation - I wish another important one took place as well where they could sort out their things. It’s not romantic to coerce a woman to go home you know... *sigh*

P.S: I have the most love for this show and writers and creators! If you have some thoughts feel free to share. <3. 

Top five worst movie outfits

Well, number one should be no surprise, but....

1.  Belle’s Yellow Dress from BaTB ‘17

I have never been so disappointed by a dress and that’s all I’m going to say, because otherwise I will rant for an hour.

2. Meg’s Vanity Fair Dress from Little Women 2019

And we’re two for two with Emma Watson (though as far as I know, she is not to blame for this like she is for the yellow dress).  Other than having a wide hoop skirt, everything about this dress just looks....wrong.  The fabric (it just looks so...shiny...), the neckline (so many ruffles), the gloves (waaay too long)...even the color of the dress is just....bad.  I’m fine if they wanted a pink dress for Meg, but did they need to choose this Pepto Bismal shade?  I softer baby pink would have looked nice....or they could have made it blue like it was in the book.

*I honestly had a tough time picking which Meg look would go on here....but as much as I dislike Meg’s outfits for her younger years, they could’ve been improved upon just by giving her a hoop skirt and putting her hair up.  Though the pink and blue traveling outfit was a close second just because she looked like she just rolled out of bed.

3. Christine’s Don Juan costume from Phantom of the Opera 2004

The costumes in this movie are....ok.  Not great, not terrible.  But they pale in comparison to the stage production’s costumes.  But there is one costume in this movie that is really not that great, and that’s Christine’s Don Juan costume.  Out of all her costumes, it looks the most cheap.  It kind of like something you could buy online for maybe 150 bucks and you’d be impressed at how nice it is...but for a Hollywood movie?  No.  

Actually, the picture makes it look better than it is.... 

4. The Batsuits from Batman and Robin.

Two words: Bat nipples.

Also, this two-toned design for the film’s climax is awful.  

5.  The Yule Ball Gowns from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

That’s three with Emma Watson!  Though, to be fair, her dress was not the worst of the lot.  In looking at it, it’s not that bad, but it could have been better.  They felt the need to change the color, which isn’t the end of the world...and it actually looks kind of pretty when she sits on the steps.  The think the way they tried to give the skirt that sort of ombre feel is where it falls apart a bit....the color doesn’t change gradually enough, IMO....and maybe if the ruffles went all the way around the skirt rather than leaving that bare panel in the middle?  I don’t know...

I actually kind of like the dress that Fleur wears....it’s pretty and suits her character....Cho’s dress is....fine...a little on the nose, but it’s still kind of pretty.

But the worst offenders are Ginny and the Patil Twins.

I’ve always thought Ginny’s dress looked a little....weird.  My roommate in college would always counter that it’s “very Ginny”....and....maybe???  I mean, I guess Ginny is 13, and the designer maybe wanted her to look less mature than the others....but this?  I dunno....I think it’s the neon green over the skirt that bothers me so much.

But poor Parvati and Padma Patil.  This is not good.  I’m not going to pretend I know anything about saris, but what we got are...just not good.  And there’s nothing wrong with putting them in saris....but these?   You could have at least given them different color schemes.  Just because they’re twins doesn’t mean they have to dress nearly identical, just with inverted colors.  I mean, they aren’t even identical twins....the actresses aren’t even related!  You could have had some fun with this, but nope...let’s just put them in semi-matching saris because they’re twins!

Bad Boys of Persia - Part One

Hi! This is a new fic about the ACOTAR ships (Feysand, Elriel, and Nessian). Since everyone always describes the men of this series as having dark hair and dark skin, I thought about how they could look Persian... and then since I’m five I thought about Prince of Persia, and here we are.

Ask in my box if you want to be tagged!

Part Two || Masterlist

Her entire body hurt.

From head to toe, Feyre could hardly move. 

She was laying in her hotel room, spread out on the bed like a starfish, groaning in pain. She glanced down at her bare body, grimacing at the bright red skin she saw. 

And she’d thought the sun in her hometown in Florida was brutal.

She’d only laid out in the sun for an hour, and yet Feyre was as crispy as a piece of fried chicken. She didn’t think an hour would even give her a tan, but it had been long enough to scorch her head to toe and leave her a pathetic mass of red flesh.

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself, Feyre got up and dressed in a pair of loose, dark blue genie pants and a long sleeve white shirt. It covered all of her skin but was loose enough to not irritate. She wrapped the navy sari Elain had bought her around her hair so her face wouldn’t get any more sun and headed out the door.

Feyre walked down to the front desk of the resort, asking if they had a store where she could buy aloe.

“What?” the man replied, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Aloe. For sunburn.” She pulled up her sleeve and showed him her burnt skin.

He chuckled. “Ah, white man’s disease. We don’t sell anything for that in the hotel, but you can go to the market and get herbs to help.” He pointed out the door towards the crowd of bustling people buying and selling materials.

Feyre grimaced. She hadn’t left the hotel since their arrival two days ago, something her sisters couldn’t believe. She weighed her options: she could go back to her room and lay around in misery or she could suck it up, go buy some aloe, and then lay around... a little less miserable.

She thought about the disapproving faces Elain and Nesta would give her as she told them she hadn’t left again and frowned. 

It wasn’t that Feyre was trying to ruin their trip; she really wasn’t. She just wasn’t in the mood to explore a new place and be outgoing right now. All Feyre felt like doing was laying in bed and crying.

It’d been three weeks since she’d broken off her engagement with Tamlin. Three weeks since she’d found her in bed with her best friend, Ianthe. They deserve each other, she thought bitterly.

Even though she accepted what had happened and knew it was over, it still hurt. She felt like she’d wasted two years of her life on someone who didn’t ever love her. She didn’t want to date again, she didn’t want to go through the first date nervousness or awkward dates or disappointing hookups. She’d thought she’d found “the one,” but all Feyre had figured out was that love was a lie.

She wanted to be like her sisters. 

Nesta was the oldest and strongest. She’d never allowed herself to get close to anyone, so she’d never had a broken heart. She was a complete badass and she knew it, too. She’d worked for the CIA for the past three years and in that time, had become invaluable to their overseas operations. 

Elain, the middle sister, was strong in a different way. She had perfect control over her emotions and had always been a bright, happy, and loving light in Feyre’s world. She ran her own restaurant in Florida and had become one of the most successful people in their area. Everyone loved Elain. 

Feyre felt like the disappointment of the family. Sure, she was successful in her work as an artist, but no one needed her or loved her like they did her sisters. Lives depended on Nesta, and everyone adored Elain. Feyre could drop off the face of the Earth and no one’s life would change.

She’d thought that Tamlin was the one person who understood her and needed her, but it turned out he’d just been using her.

Her sisters had tried to help when the breakup first happened, but Feyre was inconsolable. She wouldn’t leave bed and only got up to get more ice cream. 

Elain had been gentle and kind and suffocating while trying to get her to open up and tell her how she was feeling. Nesta, who’d always been bad with emotions, had just thrown a suitcase on her bed and begun packing half of Feyre’s closet.

“What are you doing?” she’d asked, sniffling and wiping tears off her face.

“You, me, and Elain are going to Persia.”

“What? What do you mean we’re going to Persia?” she’d asked.

Nesta had sighed dramatically. “We’re getting on a plane. I have to go for work, and I talked my boss into giving me two extra tickets. We leave in three hours. Get up and take a shower.”

“No, Nesta, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I am not letting you die in this bed because some ugly, stupid little fucker cheated on you. Get the fuck up.”

When she hadn’t, Nesta had yelled at her and literally dragged her out of the bed and into the shower, then turned the faucet on, ignoring Feyre’s protests. 

Three hours later and many arguments, thrown shoes, and explicit gestures later, Feyre was sitting with her sisters on a plane, annoyed she’d given in.

“It’s going to be so good for you, Feyre,” Elain had promised. “Nesta is going to have fun at work, I’m going to have fun stuffing my face, and you’re going to have fun looking at art.”

She’d closed her eyes and tried to ignore her sister’s aggressive happiness. 

Thirteen hours later, Feyre was checking into the hotel suite she was sharing with Elain. Nesta, who was going undercover apparently, would be staying at a place provided by her boss, so it was just the two of them. 

Elain had thrown her suitcase on her bed and immediately gone out to the market, coming back with an armful of different foods. 

“It’s so nice out there, Feyre,” she’d said, a bright smile lighting up her face. “You should check it out.”

Feyre had just crawled into her bed, closing her bedroom door.

Two days later, not much had changed.

Feyre glanced back out at the market, noticing the chaos of too many people shouting at each other, decided facing a crowd was better than facing her sisters disappointment, and headed outside. 

As Nesta walked through the open market of Suza, Persia, she couldn’t help but feel like a failure. 

Her boss had been understanding yesterday when she’d reported no new information, but Nesta hated being a disappointment.

Especially with this important of a case. Especially when thirteen girls were still missing. 

She was hunting a human trafficking group that had taken over a dozen girls out of their bed within the past two weeks.

This was one of the most important cases Nesta had ever worked, and it all had rested on her being able to sell a story.

Nesta was bait.

Their entire operation rested on her getting the groups attention and getting kidnapped. She had a chip permanently implanted in her left heel--somewhere people were less likely to search--and the idea was that Nesta would allow them to take her, make sure she could get a visual on the other thirteen girls, then cut the tracker. 

Lucien, one of the IT guys she worked with, would be able to tell where the signal had been cut and would send her team in. 

All she had to do was get kidnapped. 

But it was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d been here for two days, and she hadn’t felt threatened in the slightest. The city was beautiful and clean and the people she’d met so far had been friendly.

Nesta was determined to make something happen today, though. 

She’d made sure to put on more makeup than usual, drawing more attention to her, and had pulled her hijab back far enough to show off her blonde hair. She was wearing a short jean skirt and a tank top, more skin than a lot of other women were showing. 

She was sauntering through Suza, looking like a naive, young, tourist, when she noticed three men, siting in a cafe at the edge of the market, looking at her.

One of them nodded and raised an eyebrow flirtatiously, and Nesta forced herself to smile broadly. 

She could see why so many women had fallen in his trap. He was gorgeous in a dangerous, exotic way. His skin was the deepest shade of caramel, hair long and curly, and body was lined with thick muscle. His eyes, the most alluring part of him, were a deep golden color, rimmed with thick eyelashes and eyebrows.

He was the most beautiful man Nesta had ever seen.

She had to restrain herself from spitting on him.

She waved and kept walking, slow enough that they could easily tail her. Only the man who’d nodded got up, though. Apparently, they thought he could handle her alone.

She made sure to ignore him as she walked back to her apartment, almost rolling her eyes at how bad of a tail the man following her was.

Nesta even made sure to take a few selfies in front of pretty buildings to really sell the story.

She went inside the apartment--the CIA kept a few in Persia for operations like this--washed up, laid in bed, and waited.

Three hours later, she heard the lock to her loft click open. She closed her eyes, ignoring the almost-silent footsteps she heard the stranger take toward her closed door.

When her door creaked open, Nesta forced herself to snore softly. 

His heavy hand clamped a cloth drenched in chloroform over her mouth, and as Nesta began to lose consciousness, she looked into his beautiful, sad eyes and thought, I’ll kill you. I don’t care what it’s going to take.

The man thought he’d caught his prey, but what he didn’t know was the girl he carried down the stairs and out into the night was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. One who wanted nothing more than to destroy his life.

Elain floated through the market, tilting her face towards the scorching sun and smiling. The hot air was full of scents of dried meat, cumin, roasting vegetables, and black pepper. 

As soon as they’d landed, Elain had gone to the nearest restaurant she could find and stuffed her face. 

She’d eaten somewhere different for breakfast lunch and dinner both the days she’d been here, making sure to talk to the chefs whenever she could.

Her travel journal was full of new recipes and spices and ways of cooking. 

This was her favorite part of traveling. Seeing how different people made food and learning how to make her own dishes better.

She walked along the street, then spotted a small, open restaurant on the corner. Morrigan, the sign read. It seemed quiet and authentic and quaint, so Elain walked in and sat at an empty table.

She loved the place before she even ordered. The walls were brick, a large mural covering one, and there was a small corner with a wood fireplace. The people were all talking softly, and traditional Benju music was playing over the speakers quietly. 

It was serene and peaceful. The entire restaurant was there to appreciate the food. It was the kind of place Elain wanted her restaurant to be. 

A server came up a few moments later, dressed in black pants and a flowing black top, her hijab a dark blue color, bringing out the teal of her eyes. She was beautiful in a classic way. 

She asked if Elain spoke Persian, and she responded a little.

“I speak little English,” she said apologetically.

Elain shook her head. “Don’t apologize for your culture. I’m in your country. We’ll just do our best.”

She asked the woman what her favorite dish was, and she smiled and recommended the Dizi, a traditional Persian dish named after the stone crock it’s cooked in. 

She wisely listened to the recommendation, and ten minutes later, Elain was eating the best stew she’d ever had in her life.

The chickpeas were soft but not soggy, the chicken was tender and flavored to perfection, and the base was powerful but not overwhelming. There was something else she couldn’t quite place, something she’d never tasted before. 

She dipped a piece of naan into the mixture, smiling happily.

After she’d downed the whole bowl, Elain decided she had to meet the creator of the dish. As she was paying her bill, she asked her server if the restaurant owner was here in her broken Persian. 

She shook her head and responded, “No, but he’ll be here tonight.”

Elain debated her options. She’d vowed to not eat at the same place twice, but she’d also vowed to talk to chefs whenever she could. And she knew when he was coming in...

She didn’t let her self debate for long. She wanted to know what the secret ingredient was and applaud the chef, even if he wouldn’t tell her.

After going back to the hotel, she took a long bath and recorded what she’d done that day in her journal. She pulled her hair back, then put on jeans and a white blouse, slipping her hair under a pink hijab that matched her lipstick. 

She smiled at her reflection before going to see Feyre in her adorning room. Elain knocked softly on the door between their rooms, going in when she didn’t hear an answer.

She walked into her bedroom, eyebrows lifting when she saw the bed was empty. “Feyre?” she called out, then smiled when no one answered. 

She went out.

Elain went back into her room, grabbed her purse and--rolling her eyes--the pepper spray Nesta had forced her to bring, then walked out of the hotel.

She smiled when she walked back into Morrigan, inhaling the smell of roasted turkey and vegetables and spices. After she got seated and looked at the menu, she ordered pomegranate soup, another Persian classic she hadn’t tried yet.

“And I’d love to meet the chef if he has a moment,” she said. 

Her server looked down at the ground, nodded, and said, “I’ll see if he has a moment.”

When her soup was brought out, she became more determined to meet him. She’d thought the pomegranate would be overwhelming with all the other ingredients, but the seeds added a crunchiness and fruity flavor to the otherwise dense stew. 

She motioned her server over and asked, “Is the chef available?” as she gave him money for the soup.

“He’s in the back,” he muttered, motioning towards a dim alley leading to a back exit.

“Can I go back there?”

He shrugged, slipped her a receipt, and walked away. 

That was strange, Elain thought, but shook the thought away as she got up and began to walk towards the back rooms of the restaurant.

The Persian symbol for “management” was written on a black door, so Elain knocked and waited for an answer.

A few moments later, she knocked again. She could see someone was there; light was coming out from underneath the door. 

Maybe he couldn’t hear her over the restaurant’s music? She tried the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

“Hi,” she called out in Persian as she opened the door, then froze as she beheld what was in front of her.

Her server from earlier that day was sitting on a chair, topless, clutching the huge, jagged wound across her stomach. Tears were streaming down her face as someone knelt in front of her, dabbing the area with a wet towel.

The man dropped the towel as he saw Elain, spun around, and was in front of her before she could mutter another word. He slapped the door closed, and walked forward, Elain backing away, until her back hit the frame. 

His hands planted themselves on either side of her head. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice low and heavy with a thick Persian accent. 

Elain felt like a lamb caught in a lion’s teeth. Her heart started racing and she realized she was utterly alone here. She couldn’t breathe, let alone answer his question. 

His blue eyes bore into hers, and he growled, “Answer the fucking question.” 

“I was just looking for the chef,” she blurted. “I’m a cook; I just wanted to meet the chef.”

He stopped short at that, a strange look--pride?--in his eyes for a split second. 

Then the anger was back.

“Get out,” he growled, swinging the door open.

“Is she okay? Should we take her to a hospital?”

The wound looked deep and swollen; she definitely needed medical attention. And was that... was that a bloody nail  on the ground next to her? What the hell was going on?”

Anger took over, and before Elain could talk herself down, she was shoving past him, and kneeling next to the woman, inspecting the wound closer. 

“Did you do this to her?” she yelled at the man still standing at the door. 

It was his turn to get angry. He surged forward and grabbed her arm before opening the door with such energy, he almost ripped it off the hinges. 

“Get the fuck out. And don’t come back.”

She looked at the woman again, the tears flowing freely down her beautiful face, and vowed to get her out of this place. I’m not someone you fuck with, she thought angrily as he slammed the door in her face. And I’m sure as hell going to be back.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Part Two.

Her Saviours- Ch.17

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Fluff.

Bamby

You were sitting at the table with Dean, flicking through the newspaper but not really reading. Things had been slow the last couple of days, and the three of you were getting antsy. While Dean scoured the web and papers looking for something to do, you tried your best to keep busy.

Sam on the other hand some completely transfixed by something. You weren’t exactly sure what had him so distracted, but it seemed to be keeping his mind off John and Jess and everything else, which was good.

“Alright. I’ve been cruisin’ some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig,” Dean started. “A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. Its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” When he realised Sam wasn’t listening, he called out, “Hey.” Sam looked up from where he was perched on his bed. “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening,” Sam assured him. “Keep going.”

You glanced over at Sam, and right away you could tell her was not listening… at all. Despite how much that annoyed Dean, you couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean went on, “And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times. Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

There was absolutely no reaction from Sam.

“Screw this.” Dropping his pen onto the table, Dean reached over and grabbed the bottom of your chair before dragging you over.

A gasp barely left your lips before his hand pressed against the back of your head and pushed you towards his lips.

Deepening the kiss, you followed Dean’s mouth as he stood and leaned over your chair. You didn’t fight as he pulled you up from your seat and started backing you up towards your bed. It wasn’t until you dropped onto the mattress and he crawled on top of you, that you thought to stop him.

Pressing a hand to his chest, you held him back. “Dean, what are you doing?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Having fun.”

“Sam is right there. As in literally right there.” You gestured to the other bed that was barely two feet away from yours.

“Not like he hasn’t seen it before,” Dean noted. “And he’s not listening, or watching. I could fuck my knot into you and it would deflate before he noticed.” Leaning down, he nipped at your shoulder. “Come on… let me make you feel good.”

As he turned his face into your neck and began to scent you, Sam suddenly pushed off his bed. “Wait. I’ve seen this,” he noted, eyes glued to the notepad in his hand.

Pulling away from you with a frown, Dean watched his brother. “What?” Sam reached into Dean’s duffle bag without answering him. “What are you doing?”

Sam pulled out John’s journal and quickly flicked through it before looking over at you and Dean. “I know where we have to go next.”

Rolling off you, Dean landed on the other side of the bed as he asked, “Where?”

“Back home. Back to Kansas.”

Eyes going wide, you leaned up on your elbows and looked from one brother to the other. Things are about to get tense...

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Moving to sit on the edge of his bed, Sam showed you and Dean a photo of the four Winchesters. “This photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mum died?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?”

“I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house… I think they might be in danger.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” was all Sam offered before he stood and started towards the bags again.

Dean wasn’t going to let it go that easily, though.

Pushing himself off your shared bed, Dean followed him. “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it is all.”

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do,” Dean told him, staring at Sam expectantly.

Sighing, Sam gave in, “I have these nightmares.”

Nodding, Dean shrugged. “We’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true,” Sam add.

There was a second of silence as you and Dean tried to process the words that had just left Sam’s mouth.

“Come again?” Dean asked.

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death, for days before it happened.”

Something inside you broke at that thought.

Your heart ached for Sam. To be plagued with dreams that dark, to see the woman you love die time and time again, only for it to happen in real life… you suddenly felt terrible for ever feeling jealous.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” Dean assured him as he sat back down on the bed.

He was in denial.

Now that he’d started, however, Sam wasn’t going to give up so easily. “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

Overwhelmed, Dean took a moment before he managed to answer, “I don’t know.”

Sitting across from Dean again, Sam frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mum and Jessica!”

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean rose suddenly and began to pace. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

The pause that followed prompted Sam to ask, “When what?”

“When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

Dean’s voice broke, and so did your heart.

When Sam spoke again, his voice was gentler. “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

He wasn’t wrong. If it was just a dream then you’d deal with the aftermath later. But if what he saw ended up being real? There were people out there who needed help.

Eventually Dean came to the same realisation as you, and nodded. “I know we do.”

Normally you would wait in the car. Sometimes not. Sometimes Dean would let you tag along to talk to witnesses. In circumstances like this, where you’d just gotten into town, you hadn’t found a diner or hotel where you could stay while the brother hunted, it made things difficult. In circumstances like that, you tagged along.

This was one of those cases, but not at the same time.

Sure, you didn’t have anywhere to go while the brothers worked, but you also felt you had to go with them.

Looking at Dean as he parked outside of his childhood home, you could see how scared he was. You could see the conflict in his eyes. You could see the memories of that night flashing right before him.

“Hey.” Reaching out, you placed your hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

Glancing over his shoulder as he brought his hand up to rest on yours, he met your gaze. No words were needed for the two of you to understand each other. He knew you were there for him, and you knew he appreciated that.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asked, drawing his brother’s attention to him.

Dropping his hand from yours, Dean turned back to the house across the street. “Let me get back to you on that.”

As the three of you climbed out of the car, you were quick to step up to Dean. As much as you knew both of the brothers were going to struggle through this case, you knew Dean was going to need more support. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t be there for Sam, but for now you were sticking to Dean’s side.

Walking across the road and up the path that led to the porch, none of you spoke. Climbing the steps and nearing the front door, you all braced yourselves. Your eyes and Dean’s followed Sam’s fist as he reached out to knock on the door.

There was a moment before the door opened, revealing a young woman. In an instant you could smell her, but surprisingly, neither of the brothers reacted to the Omega’s scent.

“Yes?” she asked hesitantly, looking from one Alpha to the other.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal-”

Sam cut Dean off abruptly, “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. And uh… our friend, Y/N Y/L/N,” he introduced. “My brother and me, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before smiling brightly. “Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.”

“You did?” Dean asked, rightfully surprised.

Nodding, she hesitated a moment before taking a step to the side. “Come on in.”

Jenny. The woman living in Sam and Dean’s old home was named Jenny. As you followed her through to her kitchen you noticed how nervous she was. Thing was, you couldn’t tell if that was her natural state, because of the Alpha brothers, or because of something else entirely.

Entering the kitchen, you were met by a jumping toddler in a play pen, and a little girl who was sitting at the dining table doing homework.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” the little boy cheered.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny noted as she headed for the fridge and pulled out a sippy cup before taking it over to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She chuckled lightly and then stepped over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam and Dean. They used to live here. And that’s their friend, Y/N.”

The little girl glanced up shyly. “Hi.”

Dean gave a cute little wave.

Sam was all smiles. “Hey, Sari.”

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked, directing his question towards Jenny.

She nodded. “Yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here, or….?”

“No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job. I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.” The more she spoke, the more nervous she got.

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam’s energy was making his questions seem a little more creepy than necessary.

“Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home, I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here.” She turned towards the sink, missing how weak Dean’s smile was. “But this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam pressed.

Sensing some bad news coming, you instinctively reached out and intertwined your fingers with Dean’s. He reacted instantly, tightening his hold on your hand and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Dean attempted a chuckle, but his discomfort was obvious- to you at least. “What else?”

“Um… sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She shrugged and paused, as if realising what she was saying. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

“No.” Dean shook his head, trying to reassure her. “Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

She thought about it for a moment before answering, “It’s just the scratching, actually.”

“Mum?” Sari called, catching her mother’s attention. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asked.

Turning away from her mother, she looked up at the youngest Winchester. “The thing in my closet.”

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny gave the brothers a pointed look. “Right?”

“Right.” Sam chuckled, nodding. “No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny explained.

Her daughter, however, disagreed. “I wasn’t dreaming,” Sari insisted. “It came into my bedroom,” she looked to Sam and Dean again. “And it was on fire.”

The door closed behind the three of you as you headed back towards Baby.

“You hear that?” Sam was practically in Dean’s face. “A figure on fire.”

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” Dean countered.

Sam was just as freaked out, but not because he was right. He knew he was right. No, what was scaring him was what comes next.

“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mum and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?”

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

Looking at Dean, you could tell he wasn’t just freaked. He’d been completely shaken. Having to walk into the home he’d left behind all those years ago, only to find out the place was now haunted… you could only imagine what was going on in his head now. You could only imagine how he felt.

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.” Sam did have a good point. If his vision was one hundred percent real then they were in serious danger.

“And we will,” Dean assured him.

“No, I mean now.”

Turning into Sam’s path, you put a hand on his chest to stop him. “She’s a single mum. An Omega. You’re a frantic Alpha. How are you supposed to convince her to trust you and take her children out of their home? A home she thinks is safe for them. You heard her, she’s clueless… she won’t believe any story you concoct.”

He sighed, looking down at you. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

You were sitting in the back of Baby, watching the brothers as they tried to figure out their next step. Dean had stopped at a gas station to fill the car up while they tried to calm down.

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?” Dean asked.

“We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam answered as he stood by your window, leaning his elbows on the roof of Baby.

“Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened.”

Things were weird… not only with the case, but with you. Normally you’d be happy to help with some research. Normally you’d feel a little obligated to help out. In this instance, though, you couldn’t help but feel awkward.

For one, Mary was always a touchy subject. You’d slept with both her sons and her Alpha. Her husband. You’d jumped in the bed of her family. That kind of made you feel like you had no business snooping around her life.

Then there was the delicate matter of the brothers. You knew they needed you, but you weren’t sure if they wanted you. What if they were feeling guilty about allowing their father to be with you? What if they thought you wouldn’t understand? What if they just wanted to be left alone?

Sam looked to his brother. “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

“About that night, you mean?” Dean asked, moving to lean against the side of the car next to Sam.

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” Dean paused a moment, thinking over that night, trying to compose himself. “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam was genuinely surprised.

You weren’t. You’d heard the story a million times. John often told you it after a few too many beers. During those nights where he’d keep his distance before pouring his heart out, and then drown the pain away with sex. The man wasn’t much of a cuddler… but he still sought out physical contact in those moments.

Thinking of it like that kind of made you feel a little used… but that didn’t change the fact that you missed the guy. You felt for him. You wanted him back.

Dean was equally surprised. “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mum was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself,” Dean noted. “God knows we asked him enough times.”

“Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now… we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

“Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbours, people who were there at the time,” Dean added, coming up with a plan.

Nodding, Sam looked down at the ground for a moment longer before asking, “Does this feel like just another job to you?”

There was a pause before Dean pushed off the car. “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.”

You watched as he walked away, feeling your heart break for him.

“Hey… Sam?”

He leaned down to look through your window, a little surprised at the quiet tone of your voice. “Yeah?”

“I think… I think I should sit this one out.”

Frowning, he shook his head and opened the car door before reaching in. You hesitated but eventually took his hand and let him pull you out. Once you were standing in front of him, he titled his head so he could meet your gaze, showing you the concern in his eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“What… what if it’s your mum?” You couldn’t look at him. “What if the thing in the house is your mum? I mean, the girl said it was on fire. And it’s been so long that your mum’s spirit could be confused. Confused equals angry when it comes to spirits. So what if it’s her?”

“What if it is? Why would that mean you have to sit this one out?”

Slowly, you looked up to finally meet his gaze. “I sleep with her Alpha. I sleep with her eldest son. I’ve slept with her youngest son. I’m a whore. She should hate me.”

He looked absolutely horrified that you’d say such a thing. “You’re not a whore, Y/N. You’re an Omega.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that I’ve jumped from bed to bed, and I’ve done it with her boys.”

Shaking his head, his horror was slowly turning to anger. “You did nothing wrong. You were a kid when Dean first started doing things with you. You were a kid when Dad crawled into your bed. Your biology told you to trust them, to trust us, and you did. You didn’t really have much of a choice.”

“Dean and John did not-”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t consensual,” Sam assured you. “What I am saying is that… how could you say no? We’d saved your life. You were in heat. We’re all Alphas. You’re clearly attracted to us. How could you say no? Why would you say no when you knew no better?”

“Sam…”

“You’re not a whore,” he repeated. “And you did nothing wrong. Don’t ever think you did. And don’t ever think my mum would hate you. I might not have known her, but I know enough. She would be grateful. You’ve helped keep us alive and kept us together at times. She’d love you, Y/N, and don’t think otherwise.”

Bamby

MGRP: Black Chapter 1 Thoughts and Reactions

So I’m actually in a unique position because as a translator I can’t exactly “react” after I read it, and I’ve read MGRP way before I started translating it, but, then I had a thought.

What if I type out my reactions, put it in notepad or some other text document, preserve it, and then after I translate it, post them all up? That way, it’ll technically still be my reactions and thoughts at the time, and I can kinda sorta join in the fandom discussion.

With Black coming out I thought Black was the perfect arc to start it, so I’ve been typing up my reactions starting with Chapter 1. I actually wanted to do it for Queens too, I just only had the idea after I was halfway through Queens. In any case, here we go:

NOTE: By this point I only have knowledge of Chapter 1 as I read it.

The Entire Regulations and Rules section before the Prologue

This part reminds me of something like DanganRonpa or something similar where the rules are quite normal and nice until you get to stuff like “DON’T TALK ABOUT ANYTHING TO SOCIAL MEDIA >:C”. Which I guess makes sense for Magical Girls, but there’s a vague air of... sinisterness? I wonder if Pythie was behind this school.

Also I like the school anthem. I wish there was an accompanying background music, but I’ll try and sing it in my head.

Gradually, her ego took form, and the girl began to regain her sense of self. She stretched her body, and hit a flat hard object. It was cold, and her butt also felt the same. Perhaps she was sitting on the floor. Without rushing, but without being slow about it either, she opened her eyes, as if realizing this is not how things should be. 

A woman was smiling straight ahead. Who was she? She was bending down and looking at her, tilting her neck. Beside her, there was a human-sized object that was tied up in chains and stuck with a tag.

The girl blinked, held her breath, and gulped.

Actions that she should’ve done without thought now felt agonizing, as if this wasn’t her own body. Why? She wondered, and as if answering, her mind replied If you have questions, just ask. She opened her mouth and said “Uh.” After confirming what her voice sounded like, she looked towards the woman, and asked her question.

Okay, so is Kana asking herself a question in her mind? Curious how her power works here. Also, what was that about a human-sized object tied in chains and stuck with a tag? That’s... bizarre. Kana where are you? Also she’s clearly been out for some time, probably. Like she’s probably not used to having this body. My other guess is that she’s not used to the sensation of being a Magical Girl.

“This isn’t my body anymore, is it?”

Wrong. This was definitely a girl’s body.

“You haven’t used it for a while, have you?”

Supports my theory above.

She was inside a small room, with concrete walls and floors unadorned with any decorations. It was about twice her height. Meanwhile, its width and depth were about six times her height. When she looked behind her, she could see a cylindrical vertical container. Did she just come out of it? The floor, walls, and the colors of the container were all pale white. Its material was soft, like resin or something. The only exit was the one metallic door frame. The woman in front of her was standing as if she was guarding said door. While her smile seemed like an average smile, but there was something off about it. As soon as she took her eyes away from her, though, she couldn’t exactly place why it felt so off. She wore a skirt, with high heeled shoes, and glasses. The impression she got from her outfit was that she was formal, yet her smile was mischievous.

What the hecky was she in cryostasis!? Also this sounds like Pythie/Yoshioka

“......Where are we?”

The woman didn’t answer. But the answer popped into the girl’s head regardless. This was a prison. The woman bowed and spoke,

Okay so this is Magical Girl prison.

“I am Yoshioka. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Yoshioka.”

I knew it.

“But now the tides have changed.”

“The Land of Magic doesn’t change so easily.”

She knows about the Land of Magic. Kana you are interesting. 

“You are a Magical Girl named Kana. Do you remember?”

“Kana.”

She shook her head rapidly, and grabbed any unkempt hair. Now that she mentioned it, that did seem right. Within her vague memory, she recalled a Kana hidden somewhere there.

“Right. Kana. My name is Kana.”

“Now, as for what you did before-”

Before she could even utter another word, a name popped into Kana’s head.

“Caspar…”

At this point I’m thinking she’s probably related to Ratsumu? Is she potentially the actual Third Sage? She doesn’t seem Sagey but she’s got like... a potential for it. Especially cause she said she recalled “a Kana hidden somewhere”. What if she’s only a fragment of the Sage? Like how Ratsumu’s name is inhumanly long.

“Perhaps you may have noticed, but that is your Magical Skill. When you ask a question to someone, you will immediately know their answer. A wonderful, powerful ability, though one that shouldn’t be abused.”

“And why shouldn’t I abuse it?”

Immediately, the answer popped into her head. Because answers are subjective. If the respondent would answer a lie that they believe to be true, the answer will be distorted as well. There are also things that are better left unknown. Also, it was much better to use your own head to figure things out rather than relying on your powers. Perhaps because it might be a breach of privacy to Yoshioka. Kana certainly didn’t want her own privacy being breached. A variety of answers popped into her head. All of them Yoshioka’s, perhaps gained through her powers.

What happens if Kana asks someone a question in a livestream... Also this power is less powerful than I expected, which means it may not be Sage-level, but it doesn’t rule out the fact that she could be a Sage.

She followed Yoshioka into a hallway filled with a series of rugged iron bars, which led to large pillars further ahead, and these iron bars and large pillars continued to surround her path forward. There were doors lined equally on the sides, with prisoners just like Kana imprisoned inside, pacing around as they stared at the iron bars. This scenery repeated across the floors until they reached the sixth floor. This was a pretty big facility. If there was one prisoner per door, she’d guessed this jail housed about 100 or 200 prisoners. There were tags within tags, used to mark these prisoners down. Naturally, security was supposed to be strict, but other than Yoshioka and the Magical Girl packed inside that object, nobody was here visiting anyone else. 

Wow. This is a huge prison. Were they all stripped of clothing and equipment too, or was it just Kana? Also, a thought that occurred to me later on past my initial reactions during my readthrough, “why wasn’t Kana tagged?”

“That’s yours. Please feel free.”

“Clothes and underwear.”

She turned them around, and the bright light inside the room bounced from her silver hair to make a shining circle. There was also a matching skirt.

“This doesn’t look like a costume.”

“It’s a uniform.”

It looked like a sailor suit with a crimson color scheme. It had a design that had low degrees of exposure. This would be too plain for a Magical Girl costume. Kana didn’t feel like this matched her. She wasn’t flashy, sure, but this was even worse. It also felt Eastern somewhat.

“This doesn’t look like something you wear for a Magical Girl job.”

“Oh, my apologies. These clothes are enchanted by magic, so it won’t ever break. Not to worry. And, it fits where you’re supposed to go.”

That explains why Kana’s clothes are so plain. This wasn’t her actual costume at all.

☆ Mariko Fukuroi

Black is officially the best arc. Case closed.

All of a sudden, Mariko became known as the head of information. She was then entrusted with more things than would befit a temporary assistant. With there being two Magical Girls in this school, school life was generally very chaotic.

How did she get so many jobs. I mean, I’m proud of you Marika but how. Weren’t you just a sub?

Originally, Mariko had only been sent as a substitute teacher because one of the homeroom teachers was on maternity leave

Yes, you WERE!

Despite that, Yamada kept exercising on his own. His spirit was nearly unbreakable, even to the eyes of a Magical Girl. But who knows how far that’ll take him. Carefully, but also quickly, Mariko sought out a way to solve the problem, by listening, being attentive, and alert.

I hope you become a Magical Girl some day Yamada.

Turning around, she saw two girls. She knew their faces, but they weren’t from her class. In fact, they weren’t even the same grade. Standing in front of her was Yoshiko Yoshinoura, with an expression that showed how determined she was. Behind her, Sari Kasuga seemed worried. Both, however, seemed to be anxious. Both were friends of Koyuki Himekawa.

Props to Yoshiko for also surviving all the way to Black. She, Snow, and Ripple are the only long-running survivors at this point. If Snow and Ripple bite the dust, this ironically makes her the one who outlived literally every other cast member. Poor Sumire never shows up again though.

“Hey teach, you’re kinda looking a bit weird. Gritting your teeth like that.”

“Mmph?”

It seems her face had contorted from her clenched jaw. Yoshiko’s suspicions only grew further. Mariko managed to cover by coughing twice. Mariko went back to a cool nonplussed “What? You didn’t see anything” kind of face.

“I uh, have canker sores.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. I swear, I do.”

Mariko Fukuroi—the Magical Girl Marika Fukuroi—always hung out with Snow White whenever they were both Magical Girls. She’d help her with anything she had on her plate. Whenever she did so, Marika was almost always filled with joy. Such was the freedom of the Magical Girl known as Marika Fukuroi. However, she still had trouble remembering all her students’ faces. They flickered back and forth in her mind. Her inner storm didn’t really make for a nice warm personality. 

Answer. Your. Phone. Snow.

Also, it’s cute how Marika cares so much about Snow White this way. I always knew she did, but now it’s even better. Marika’s a huge brutish brawler, but she also just has trouble socializing, and letting out her actual feelings. This is great.

After opening the door to the science lab, she closed it and held it down with her body, the girls still outside. Then, she bit back a loud scream and pulled her hair.

I really wish this was animated, or drawn, or just... something. I really really really want to see this.

Snow White’s new Magical Phone—that she hasn’t used yet—began to vibrate inside her costume. Whatever the reason, it’d be interrupting what she was doing now. So she held her hand to her costume and turned off her phone.

ANSWER. YOUR. PHONE. SNOW.

She had faintly heard the voice of someone’s mind from beyond the trees, meaning she had to close the distance. She made a circle with her thumb and index finger, and the Magical Girl running up behind her, Uluru, saw her signal.

I am so glad they’re partners now. Snow White and Uluru, Batman and Robin, it fits so well.

“There she is! That’s the girl you beat up in the cave…” Uluru said, pointing to a blue Magical Girl standing in front of the trees. Princess Deluge.

Whoa, they found Deluge already? Wait, are they going to fight again? OH MY GOD ARE THEY!? ARE WE GONNA SEE ANOTHER FIGHT? IN THE PROLOGUE?

Back when Puk Puck had raided the caverns, Uluru had told Snow White that she fought with Deluge, and then promptly thought that it might be a bad idea to mention that. The Uluru she knew before would always say what’s on her mind without fault. Now, Uluru had grown. She cared for others, and chose her words carefully.

I like how we’re checking in with everyone, and I like that Uluru is growing as a person and a partner. This fills me with joy. Snow and Uluru are one of my favorite Snow pairs next to Marika, cause both of them can basically kick ass Batman Robin style (well with Marika it’d be Batman and... uh... insane battle hungry Robin? a nicer Jason Todd Robin?)

Standing around Deluge were Armor Arlie, Blade Brenda, and Cannon Catherine, all facing Snow White. These three black-suited Magical Girls had also been manipulated by Puk Puck and fought alongside her. However, Arlie, who had never taken off her visor, even while in briefings, breaks, or fighting with Puk Puck, had now lifted her visor. She looked just like Brenda and Catherine, yet she was also completely different from before.

Snow White smiled back in reply to the black-suited Magical Girls who were happily waving about their weapons, before relaxing her expression and facing Deluge.

D’awwwww she LIKES them!!!!!!!!!

Alright, Chapter 1 proper. I can’t believe it ends THERE! So wait, Armor Arlie’s still Arlie, and there’s no Dory, which means... Where is she? Is she part of Deluge’s group? Wait, where’s Shadow Gale? Did they just... leave her at home? Without a babysitter? Does she have food? Will she be okay?

☆ Tetty Goodgripp

The nearest station from her house was around three minutes; from there, she’d catch two trains, then she’d exit the largest station from the west side, and walk one minute until she arrived at her destination. The building had no elevator and was all broken down and rusty, but she still had to travel up to the seventh floor. Finally, she would reach the Gate to her school. This was her normal route to school.

So the school uses a Gate in the 7th floor? That’s pretty rad.

From there, she entered the building from the roof. She had considered the fact that the rooftop door not being locked was a sign of courtesy for other Magical Girls.

Isn’t she breaking the rules here, Class Rep?

 As she ran across the hallways, she saw a sign on the wall that read “No running in the halls.” It’s fine. It was a short walk to class anyway.

That’s two rules broken.

They all belonged to one of the three groups. Group three to be precise. Hearing Fujino’s footsteps, they turned around, in time for Fujino to say a warm “Good morning!” towards them.

I’ll not paste every single one of their descriptions but while I can see Lightning being hime-girl, Diko being mohawk girl threw me off so much.

“Ello.”

“Ewo.”

God, these two are gonna get me so much.

These three groups refuse to interact with each other at all. At best, they’d greet each other, but the only one who would respond with a smile among anyone was Sally Raven. The rest are generally salty to any outsiders. Except for one girl in group two, who wasn’t just elementary school friends with Fujino—she also became a Magical Girl in the same exam.

Fuko Sayama—Magical Girl name Mepis Pheles. She had been estranged from Fujino when she transferred out, but miraculously, they made a reunion here. At first, they got along well, but then they started to talk less and less because she kept getting mad whenever they played cards.

Mepis is one person I didn’t expect to be the angry type, but now I’m even more interested in her.

At this point we’ve gotten an illustration, and I notice compared with the human illustrations in twitter that they’re arranged in exactly the same way as their groups! Which means the ones that don’t have human illustrations WASN’T Arlie and Dory, but Calcolo (cause she’s a teacher) and Kana. This was further confirmed when the two twins actually ARE Arlie and Dory.

“Well duh, they’d be a Magical Girl! This is a Magical Girl CLASS! I’m talkin’ about somethin’ ELSE! They’re a bit more mhm mhm, y’know?”

With her fingers on her sun-tanned cheeks, Wrappy Tip shook her chestnut hair out and about. She normally speaks loud, and now she spoke even louder somehow.

WRAPPY!!! WHY DO YOU SCREAM SO MUCH! I’m joking I love you for that Wrappy. Your Magical Girl form looks like Tepsekemei but you’re actually HIGHLY ENERGETIC!

“I’m glad OUR group has five! If we had four, then WE’D get the inmate! God, can you imagine the TENSION!?”

“You don’t have to be so mean.”

“I’m not MEAN! I’m SCARED!”

Wrappy’s words seemed nervous, but her expression and tone were completely at odds with it, being so cheerful.

I have a feeling Wrappy is going to be like this for the entirety of Black. She’s just gonna be in danger and be like “OH MY GOD WE’RE IN DANGER!” with googly eyes and a gasping look on her face.

“So hang on, you’re telling me she’s been released, right?”

“Well, she wouldn’t have broken out, would she?”

“Prison Break.”

“Season 2.”

The fact that Arlie and Dory knows Prison Break and Season 2 of Prison Break leads me to believe they watched it with Deluge or something and Shadow Gale during their stint at that hideout. Which is both cute and amazing.

Her height was 170cm, and her face seemed so mature. She had trimmed natural blonde hair that reached her shoulders. She had fair skin, blue eyes, and a European Magical Girl name. But unlike Arlie and Dory, her Japanese was very fluent. Thunder General Adelheid made a warm smile and waved her right hand.

THUNDER GENERAL ADELHEID!!!! Now this is one Magical Girl I’m going to keep an eye out throughout Black.

“Hmm, it seems you’ve heard the rumors.”

“About the PRISONER!? YEAH YEAH, WE DID!” replied Wrappy Tip while violently headbanging.

My opinion of Wrappy shot up due to her violent headbanging.

“For now, I shall treat her as if she were kin. However, I do feel like she may quarrel with Mepis.”

Little did I know, this was the understatement of the year.

She hadn’t changed one bit. Her appearance had changed, now wearing glasses and braids, but her personality hadn’t. Despite being seemingly literary and well-read, this girl was surprisingly quick to anger, and felt more like a gangster. When she was in elementary school, it didn’t matter if it were boys or even seniors, she picked a fight with everyone—mostly people she found annoying. The Daifugo card game during her lunch break was cancelled early because she had a tantrum for losing, and the teachers couldn’t handle her, so they just banned her from bringing cards at all.

Okay Mepis is going to be a fun ride when she finally does get a POV and dialogue. That being said, the glasses girl was one of my secondary and tertiary guesses for Mepis solely because a winky face human is a little too obvious. It’s hilarious how so out of personality her human self looks from her Magical Girl self though.

Tetty Goodgripp had been chosen to become their Class Rep. Still, group two’s problems should be solved by group two. Thinking about it though, it seemed their leader was Mepis Pheles, and considering how their leader was the one itching for a fight, there was no way they could solve any problems whatsoever on their own.

The consistent opinion among these girls seems to be “Mepis is not going to be a good time”

When she looked at Miss Lille, she saw that she seemed almost pale, as if saying “I’m sorry for what you’re about to endure”. Wrappy meanwhile was just waving both her hands in the air as if saying “HI GUYS! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT YOU!”

Wrappy shoots up yet again in the best Black characters rank, though so far everyone’s off to a great start personality-wise.

Dory meanwhile was grabbing her spear and was bonking Arlie in the head repeatedly. Arlie looked sad, but Dory kept bonking.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA WHAT!? WHY?

These two looked like they came in a set, yet most of the time, they kept on fighting each other. It’s hard to tell if they were actually close with each other or not.

So do they actually just hate each other? That’s hilarious.

☆ Halna Medhi Melen

a mage? Oh boy. And a new one too. Side note, I really love how we can just determine mages from their ridiculous names. Mana, why isn’t your name so ridiculous?

Calcolo may be a talented Mage herself, but she was far from mature, so she’d make a horrible teacher.

GASP!!!! CALCOLO’S A MAGE MAGICAL GIRL!!!!! AAAAAAAAA!!!! We’ve heard this being possible in Breakdown and F2P but this is our first main series character to BE one.

Halna glanced at her own pointed ears

First off. Elf. Secondly, how the hell do you glance at your own ears???

The cause of the Calcolo’s nervousness was 20% Magical Girl and 80% Calcolo’s timid personality.

Oh Calcolo’s gonna be a favorite. She’s like 7753′s personality mixed with Kuru-Kuru Hime’s job.

“My name is Halna Medhi Melen. I am the supervisor of this school. This is Calcolo Callumph. She’s your homeroom teacher. Her Magical Girl name is Calcolo.”

Callumph is such a nice last name, but why is your Magical Girl name literally your actual name, Calcolo? Didn’t you learn from Nokko-Chan and Akane?

Also the entire section of this part was just Halna raging at Kana as Kana innocently answers questions was the best. Calcolo’s boss is much angrier than 7753′s was for sure, and that makes for a brand new flavor of “depressed office worker Magical Girl”, of which there are so many in MGRP.

Since being assigned to Class 2-F, there has been no day where Calcolo didn’t feel pain and agony. What kind of a teacher has no mood for classes, or any abilities, or just seems to complain whenever there’s an event? Why did she have to make up a rule to ban cards during lunch? Why can’t the kids just get along?

I knew I’d love her. She literally has 7753′s personality about her job.

She remembered her first day as a teacher, when she was determined to be the best teacher she could be. She opened the door and saw a girl with a mohawk and tattoos on half her face like she was from the feudal age. That’s when she thought “Yeah. No. I don’t think this’ll work out.”

Hey, I’m sure Diko didn’t mean anything bad by it. That being said this made me laugh so much and got Calcolo even higher on my best characters list.

Her bloodline can be traced back to one of the Three Sages, Shayn Osk Val Mer, and not only that, her proficiencies are on the level of specialists. She has eyes that could peer through the essence of others, and has a fierceness that enables her to make decisions without hesitation. She had pointed ears and heterochromatic eyes, which seemed an anomaly even for Mages

So, does this mean Osk had children? Also, is this where elves came from? Her heterochromatic eyes are also shared by Puk.

There’s like an entire section dedicated to how the school is just a proxy war between the factions and I love how they’re still scrambling at each other despite not physically having the capabilities to.

For now, they focused on finding any Mage who can transform into a Magical Girl. Thus, the spotlight shone on Calcolo, the girl who studied day and night to become an authority on criminology. Oh, and she can transform into a Magical Girl too.

I like how her degree was used first. This makes Calcolo sound like Buzz Lightyear during his Mrs. Nesbitt phase in Toy Story 1.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No? What’d I forget?”

Her expression, or lack of, felt like she’s not really judging her or being mad, but Calcolo felt like she was going to dive into a pit of something much much worse.

“Well, classes are divided into two sections. General Education, and Magical Girl Education. Gen Ed classes will be taken in your human forms, and Magical Girl Classes in your Magical Girl form.”

“Okay,” Kana said, pulling her chair out and standing up.

Oooh boy, I’m gonna love Kana’s interaction with everybody if she keeps this up. She’s not exactly clueless, but everyone else thinks she’s an idiot. Which I can’t blame. She looks kinda dumb.

Basically, if Calcolo reported any problems with Kana, worst comes to worst, Halna will pick a fight with Caspar.

I enjoy the fact that Calcolo basically said “If I report Kana, I may indirectly cause a war with Caspar. Nope.”

“Your clothes-”

“It’s the school uniform.”

“No, I know. I just meant, parts of them are torn.”

“It’s to make it easier for me to move in.”

I didn’t notice this at the time, but my editor pointed out that she basically ripped the “unrippable” clothes. Kana what are you?

Well, those are my initial thoughts on it. When I first read chapter one, I was super intrigued at how the school worked, and what Halna and Calcolo’s plans are for it. It seems I was mistaken that the school was a Pythie-run thing, but I do think Pythie is using Kana in some way. I also think Kana’s potentially related to the third Sage, Caspar herself. Time will tell how this plays out.

Promises of the Unexpected (Part 10)

Pairing: Iseul x MC

Game: Love & Legends

Warnings: Wedding and this is literally all fluff.

*Thanks for all of your support you all! Reading your reactions to this series has brought me so much joy. I’m sad to have this come to an end.*

Word Count: 1, 899

Part 1      Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6    Part 7     Part 8   Part 9

A slight pressure on my chest, mixed with delighted cooing, brings me to alertness. I open my eyes to see my daughter crawling on my chest, grinning at me.

“Now how did you get in here, little one?” I ask, gathering her in my arms and kissing her. Arms wrap around my waist.

“I brought her.” Iseul explains, pulling me into his lap and setting his chin on my shoulder.

“Did she wake up crying?”

Iseul shakes his head, “No. But she looked so lonely in the nursery, so I brought her in to our bed.” I feel my heart melt a little as I lean into Iseul’s warm body.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to give her a sibling then, won’t we?” I innocently suggest. Iseul growls at me, nipping at my neck.

“That can be arranged.” he murmurs, continuing to kiss my neck.

I laugh breathlessly, “Just not now, mister. We have a wedding to get ready for.” Iseul’s arms tighten around me.

“I cannot believe the day has finally come.” he sighs, raising a hand to stroke Sarai’s cheek.

I nod, “It’s been a long year, but we did it. We made it babe.”

“Indeed we did, love. And I do not intend to wait any longer that we already have.” Iseul says, pressing his lips against my cheek.

“Then we should start getting ready.” I reply, turning my face so I can capture his lips in a kiss.

We quickly get out of bed and get ready for the day. Iseul kisses both Sarai and I before going to Reiner’s study to get ready with the guys. Before long, Altea and Ishara come up to help Sarai and I get into our dresses. My gown is white with straps that fall off the shoulders and a skirt that billows out at the waist. Sarai’s is a miniature version of mine with longer sleeves. After much deliberation, we decide to leave my hair down, but Altea insists on braiding some fresh flowers around the top of my head. Once Ishara and Altea are done fussing over me, they exit the room. Taking Sarai with them. For the first time in months, I’m alone. I sneak a look in the mirror, admiring my reflection. It’s funny how so much has changed and I haven’t. My face still looks the same. My body changed the most, but it’s gone back to the way it was for the most part. But I’ve grown so much. I found my family and fought beside them. We defeated the Witch Queen. Iseul and I feel in love and started our own family. And now we get to join our lives together. Forever. That last word brings a slight smile to my face. Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Reiner’s voice calls from the hallway.

“Yes!” I call, opening the door to meet him. Reiner smiles at me.

“You look breathtaking.” he says, offering his arm to me.

I take it, “Thank you.” I say smiling. Together, we make our way towards the garden where everyone is waiting for us. Before we step through the door that leads outside, Reiner stops us.

“Are you sure that this is what you want.” he asks me, “Not that I am second guessing you, I just want you to know that you have control over this whole situation.”

I cup Reiner’s cheek with my hand, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.” He grins at me.

“Then let us go.” he says, opening the door and leading us outside. Everyone I love is waiting for us. When Iseul’s eyes meet mine, his jaw drops and I see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Altea is behind him, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. August stands beside her, subtly trying to wipe away a tear that’s rolling down his cheek. Ishara is at Iseul’s side, holding our smiling daughter, who started clapping her hands as soon as she saw me. Behind Iseul is Imohn whose gaze is full of sibling adoration. Which they are about to become. I sneak a quick glance over to my side where I see Saerys and Solaire beaming at me. The whole scene fills my heart with joy. Before I know it I’m almost at Iseul’s side. I turn to Reiner and give him a hug. He hold me tightly and plants a kiss on the top of my forehead. Then he takes my hand, pressing it into Iseul’s open palm. I go to stand in front of Iseul as Reiner goes to stand across from Ishara. Iseul’s thumbs brush over the top of my hands. He gazes at me with those tender green eyes. It takes all of my willpower not to pull him in for a kiss.

“Thank you all for gathering here today.” Imohn begins, looking at the small gathering of people in front of us. “We are here to celebrate the love between Iseul and MC. A love which we have all had the… honor of being exposed to everyday. For years.” they joke, earning a few laughs from everyone.

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say that you are each other’s perfect match.You have fought for each other, both literally and figuratively, and it has brought us all here today, where we bringing together two lives.” At this, they look to their mother, who hands them a goblet with a green liquid in it. Imohn takes the cup and places it between Iseul and I.

“This goblet contains a potion that will bind your lives to each other. For you, my dear sister,” the pause, looking at me, “It will give you an elven lifespan. Meaning that you will live and age as long as Iseul does. For my dear brother, and the rest of us as well, it means that we will never have to lose you.” the pause once more, looking over to their brother.

“For this to work, Iseul must first drink from the cup. Then you have to drink out of it.” I manage to nod as Iseul puts the goblet to his lips, taking a long drink. As he passes it to me he wipes a tear trickling down my face.

“This is what we were working on while you were pregnant.” he confesses, smiling sheepishly at me.

“I kind of figured.” I breathe before finishing the potion.

“Alright, now that all of that is out of the way, I do believe it is time for the vows.” Imohn says, taking away the empty goblet. Iseul nervously clears his throat.

“May I start?” he asks. I smile and squeeze his hand in affirmation.

 “I cannot put into mere words how much I love you, MC. I have been struck by you ever since they day we first met. While I admit I did not fall in love with you right away, it did not take long before you won me over. It was the first time I held you in my arms; that day we were walking in the forest and I caught you as you fell. I knew at that moment that I was in love. I tired to fight it at first; tried to pretend I was only doing my duty by protecting you. Obviously that pretense did not last and I am not one to deny myself in matters of love. And I do love you, MC. More than I ever thought I could. You are the love and light of my life. My sun, my moon, and all my stars. I would not be the man I am today if you had not come into my life. Everyday I thank the heavens for your unexpected meeting; everyday I am thankful for you. I love you- mind, body, and soul.”

A tear flows down my cheek, “If I could summarize our love story in a single word, I think ‘unexpected’ would be just about right. I know I never expected to end up in another world or be accused of being another person. I never thought that I’d learn how to shoot a bow or wear armor or even fight in a life-or-death battle. And I never would have imagined that I’d fall in love with a mischievous elf prince whose hair is almost as pretty as mine. But it all happened and I wouldn’t change a thing. All that we’ve been through and all that we had to fight to stay together- it was all worth it. Because it brought us to where we are now. Every unexpected twist and turn made us stronger together. If there is one thing that I have learned for our love story it’s that the only promise in life is that of the unexpected; that is the only thing life can guarantee us. While I can’t say that all of our unexpected surprises will be as welcome as our love was, or our daughter for that matter, I can promise that you will never have to deal with them alone. I will be by your side through it all. Forever. I love you, Iseul, and I always will.” Tears are streaming down Iseul’s cheeks, but he doesn’t go to brush them away. He just keeps holding my hands, his thumbs still roaming across my knuckles.

Imohn grins at us, “Lovely vows. Now, the rings?” they ask as Saerys and Altea hand us the wedding bands. “Now, Iseul, repeat after me. I, Iseul.”

“I, Iseul.”

“Take you as my spouse.”

“Take you as my spouse.”

“Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.”

“Come what may.”

“Come what may.” Iseul finishes, sliding the ring on my finger.

Then Imohn turns to me, “Now, Lady MC, repeat after me. I, MC.”

“I, MC.”

“Take you as my spouse.”

“Take you as my spouse.”

“Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.”

“Come what may.”

“Come what may.” I vow, sliding the ring on Iseul’s finger.

“I now pronounce you married. Now, do what you two do best.” Imohn jests, eyes sparkling.

“What we do best we don’t do in public.” I retort.

“However, we do do what we do second best in public.” Iseul finishes, pulling me into his arms, pulling me in for a kiss. As our lips collide, everyone cheers. As we breathlessly pull away from each other, I reach over grab Sari from Ishara. She coos happily at me, her hand reaching out to tap my cheek.

“And we promise to love you always, sweetheart.” I say, kissing her cheek.

“Through every unexpected surprise.” Iseul adds, kissing her other cheek. Sarai shrieks in delight, clapping her hands together. Iseul wraps his arms around me, pulling both Sarai and I into his chest. I sneak a peek at everyone surrounding us; our family, the people who have been by our sides through this whole journey. Then I look up at Iseul, my husband, beaming down at me.

“I love you.” I sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, too.” he replies, cupping my face. This is all I need. Him. Our daughter. The people surrounding us. Our little makeshift family. No matter what unexpected promise tomorrow holds, I know that we’ll be able to handle it because we’ve got each other. And that’s all we’ll ever need.

SUPERNATURAL: Olivia Parker: Home

Words count: 8K

A/N: And here is the new chapter! The episode “Home” was heartbreaking, writing it was heartbreaking. In this chapter, you will have more answers about Olivia and Khogalla and what’s happening around her. 

Feedback is always highly appreciated! If you want to be tagged, just ask me!

Taglist: @ohsoevilsoul

Warning: Blood, ghosts, evil, angst.

Previous parts: Pilot — Wendigo — Dead In The Water — Phantom Traveler — Bloody Mary — Skin — Hook Man — The Fight

Previously on Olivia Parker…

"So anything?", "I had them check the FBI's missing person data bank. No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.", "Sam, I don't think your Dad wants to be found.", "We will find him, but if he doesn't want to be found, it will be harder, meaning you'll have to be patient.", "I know."

"The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on the 9-mile road. Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.", "Dad would check it out."

"Was he with somebody?", "Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen", "Who's Lori Sorensen?", "She's reverend's daughter."

"She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.", "Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—", "Yeah, the Hook Man legend.", "Maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all. What if it's some kind of spirit?"

"Listen. You two and your brother—", "Oh, don't worry, we're leaving town."

"We could stay." Sam shakes his head. Dean watches Lori looking sad, he shakes his head and drives away.

"Levy! Stop!" The guards run forward, missing him. He takes something out of his jacket. "So close to finding you." A pearl in his hand shines bright red. He puts it back into his pocket and walks away.

"He's not just a thief, he's the prince of thieves. He's a metamorph, he's powerful. He has four of the eight pearls. We cannot let him have all of them. You find me this thief, and you kill him. I want his head far from his body."

"Khogalla is mine, you're not getting it back, Gabriel."

"Queen Olivia! You're back!", "Who are you?", "Oh right, it's right. I'm Levy, your thief. I almost have all the pears to bring you to Khogalla, your kingdom, Majesty."

"This is the kingdom of magic. Profeta is evil, but the ground of Khogalla is good, when she took over, the bad did too, killing everything that was good.", "Why are you showing me this?", "You're our savior.", "I'm a hunter! What makes you think this?", "It's in the prophecy."

"Khogalla..." On the ground of dead flowers stands one brand new rose, and the echo of Olivia's voice "Khogalla..."

"I'm bringing you home, my queen."

"The Naiads don't exist anymore."

"Archangel Gabriel, if you hear me, please show me the path to Tenebris Aurea. Help me stop this useless war."

"What if Profeta wins?", "The prophecy didn't change. Each day I look at it, each day it remains.", "Prince of Thief, I hope you're right."

"For Khogalla.", "For Queen Olivia."

Tenebris Aurea. The slayer of Hell. The well of power. The book of Alathea. The hand of the spirit of the Future

"Why would I kill the prodigy? You can't stop the hands of time."

"We're going to bring you back to your kingdom, Your Majesty.", "My what now?"

Today — Lawrence, Kansas. — Night.

A young woman named Jenny is sitting on the floor of her home, unpacking boxes. She comes across a photo of herself and her husband at their wedding. She begins to cry just as her daughter, Sari, comes in the room. "Mommy?" Jenny looks up. "Hey, sweetie. Why aren't you in bed?", "There's something in my closet."          Jenny opens the closet doors and looks inside as Sari watches from her bed.", "See? There's nothing there.", "You're sure?", "I'm sure. Now, come on. Get into bed." Sari crawls into her bed, and Jenny tucks her in. "I don't like this house." Jenny looks at her daughter and sighs. "You're just not used to it yet. But you and your brother and me — we are going to be very happy here. I promise." She kisses Sari on her forehead. "I love you." She turns off the light and gets up the leave the room. "The chair.", "Okay." Jenny moves a chair under the doorknob of the closet. "The chair. Just to be safe." Sari lies down and goes the bed. Jenny leaves.          After returning to the living room, Jenny continues unpacking boxes. She stops when she hears the sound of scratching coming from the basement. "Please, God, don't let it be rats."          Jenny goes downstairs into the basement with a flashlight. She tries turning on a light, but the switches don't work. "Terrific."          In Sari's bedroom, the chair begins moving on its own, away from the closet doors. Sari sits up in her bed, wide-eyed and afraid.          Jenny keeps looking around. On the floor, she sees a large black trunk. She kneels down and opens it, pulling out old photos of the Winchester family. Written on the back of a picture are the words, "The Winchesters. John, Mary, Dean, and Little Sammy." Jenny smiles.          In Sari's bedroom, the closet doors open by themselves. Standing in the closet is what looks like a person, but is entirely made out of fire. Sari screams.

The door of the motel room opens, Sam and Dean turn, Olivia enters. Dean stands up. "Where were you?" Olivia looks at him but doesn't answer. She closes the door and sits on the bed. "I…" The anger that Dean felt was replaced by worry and concern. "Olivia?" He walks to her, he kneels down, puts his hands on her legs, and looks up at her. "Olivia? You're okay?" Sam stands up too and sits on the bed. "I'm fine. I just, I'm tired." She didn't know what to make of everything she found out. The prophecy that was attached to her name, her past life, the people she left behind, the kingdom she left behind. She didn't know if she was supposed to tell Sam and Dean or not. One thing's for sure, she did not lie to them when she said she was tired. She was beyond tired, she was exhausted and lost but at the same time at so many places. Her brain kept going back to Khogalla, to Levy, to her parents, her son, and husband, to Sam and Dean. She had a choice to make, she knew it, but she didn't know if she would be capable of making it, or if she would be capable of putting this burden on Sam and Dean. So she looked at Dean and smiled, "I'm fine, don't worry. I've been walking a lot, got lost, had no signal and had to walk a lot only to realize there was a shortcut. I then went to drink and crash at a church, the father helped me find my way back." The only question was which way back is she going to chose?          While Sam is sleeping, he begins dreaming of Jenny. She is inside her bedroom, screaming for help. Sam wakes up, confused.          The next morning, while Dean is on the computer, Olivia reading, Sam is drawing a picture of a tree. "All right. I've been cruising some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali — its crew vanished." Olivia puts down her book and looks up at Dean. "And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." Dean and Olivia look at Sam. "Hey." Sam looks up from his drawing. "Am I boring you with this evil stuff?", "No. I'm listening. Keep going." Olivia chuckles and focuses back on Dean. "And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Dean waves his hand in front of Sam's face. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?" Sam looks at the tree he drew. "Wait. I've seen this.", "Seen what?" Olivia frowns and looks at Dean, only to find him frowning too. "Seen what, Sam?" Sam gets up from the bed and goes searching through his duffel bag. "What are you doing?" Olivia stands up. Sam finds a photo of their family from when he was a baby. He compares the tree in the photo to his drawing. They are the same. "Guys, I know where we have to go next.", "Where?", "Back home — back to Kansas." Olivia is taken aback, she sits back down in her chair. "Okay, random." Says Dean. "Where'd that come from?" Asks Olivia. Sam showing the photo to Dean. Olivia stands up and looks at the picture then back at Sam. "All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?" Dean and Olivia glance at each other. "Yeah.", "And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?", "I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talking about?" Olivia stays silent, hoping they won't have to return to Lawrence. "Okay, look, this is going to sound crazy but—the people who live in our old house—I think they might be in danger.", "Why would you think that?", "Uh—it's just, hum—look, just trust me on this, okay?" Sam starts to walk away, Olivia follows him. "Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?", "Yeah.", "Sam, that's weak. You have to give us a little bit more than that. I'm not going back there on a 'trust me, okay?' I need more.", "I can't really explain it is all." Dean walks to Sam and Olivia and stands next to Olivia. "Well, tough. We're not going anywhere until you do." Sam sighs. Dean waits expectantly, so does Olivia. "I have these nightmares." Dean nods, "I've noticed.", "And sometimes—they come true." Olivia frowns. "What?" Dean is stunned, "come again?", "Look, guys—I dreamt about Jessica's death — for days before it happened." Olivia was even more confused. She was about to say something but Dean cut her, "Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Dean sits down on the bed, Olivia stays up. She knew better than anyone that dreams have more meaning than that. After all, she did find out in her dreams that she had a kingdom and a throne awaiting. "No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it because I didn't believe it. And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something." Sam looks at Olivia. "Right?" Olivia takes a chair and sits down. Dean looks at her and then back at Sam, overwhelmed, "I don't know." Sam sits down across from Dean and Olivia. "What do you mean you don't know, Dean?", "What Dean means—what we mean is that it's a lot to take in, alright? We all have bad memories from Lawrence, the three of us.", "This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might be the thing that killed Mom, your son and husband, and Jessica!", "All right, just slow down, would you?" Dean stands up and begins pacing. "I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that we have to go back home? Especially when—" Olivia looks at Dean saddened. "When what?" Sam looks at Olivia, clearly missing something, she looks back at him and sighs. "Dean swore to himself that he would never go back there again." Sam sighs. "Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure." Dean nods and looks at Olivia she nods too. "I know we do." Olivia looks away. Sam looks at her. "Olivia?" She looks at him and clears her throat, you guys should go. I'm going to stay here. Work on some salt and burn. Dean faces her, "Olivia—", "No. I'm not going back there. I'm not."          Sam and Dean pull up the Impala outside their old house. "You're going to be all right, man?" Sam asks, eyeing his older brother. "Let me get back to you on that." They get out of the car. After knocking on the front door, Jenny answers it. Sam is shocked that she is the same woman from his dream. Jenny looks at the duo in front of her, "yes?", "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal—," "I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.", "Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night." Dean raises his eyebrows, "you did?" Jenny nods and sets aside. "Come on in."          Inside the house, the three of them go to the kitchen. Sari is at the table doing homework, Ritchie, her jumpy toddler brother, is in his playpen. "Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!" Jenny looks at Ritchie then at Sam and Dean, "that's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice junkie." She takes a sippy cup out of the refrigerator and hands it to Ritchie. "But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy." Jenny walks over to Sari. "Sari, this is Sam and Dean. They used to live here." She looks at the two men, "hi." Dean waves at her. Sam smiles, "hey, Sari." Dean focuses back on Jenny. "So, you just moved in?", "Yeah, from Wichita.", "You got family here, or…?" Asks Dean. "No. I just, uh—needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. And new house." Sam nods, "so, how do you like it so far?", "Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home—I mean, I'm sure you had lots of memories, happy memories here." Dean smiles weakly. "But this place has its issues." Sam frowns, "what do you mean?", "Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly." Dean nods, "oh, that's too bad. What else?", "Um—sink's backed up, there are rats in the basement." Jenny pauses. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain." Dean shakes his head, clearly not offended. "No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?", "It's just the scratching, actually.", "Mom?" Jenny kneels down next to Sari. "Ask them if it was here when they lived." Sam looks at Sari, "what, Sari?", "The thing in my closet.", "Oh, no baby, there was nothing in their closets." Jenny turns to Sam and Dean. "Right?" The brothers nod. "Right. No, no, of course not.", "she had a nightmare the other night.", "I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom — and it was on fire." Sam and Dean are shocked in front of what the little tells them.          Sam and Dean walk out of the house to their car, they get inside. Sam calls Olivia and puts her on speaker. "So, verdict?" She asks. Dean sighs. "The little girl says she saw something in her closet and that it was on fire. — She what? — You hear that? A figure on fire." Says Sam. "And that woman, Jenny, that was the women in dreams?" Dean looks at Sam who nods. Olivia is heard sighing over the phone. "Yeah. And you heard what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit. — Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true. — Dean." Dean looks at the phone, he could picture the disapproving Olivia was giving him. Sam was panicking, "well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that them? — I don't know!" Sam looks at the phone, "Olivia? — Still here, just thinking. What do you think, Sam? — Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time? — Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet. — Dean is right, Sam. Perhaps you want it to be the thing that killed Mary and Jess so much that you pick up clues that aren't even ones. — Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get them out of that house. — And we will. — No, I mean now. — Okay, Sam, no. I'm on the way, you can't deal this alone. — Okay. Be careful." Dean hangs up the phone and looks at Sam who was still insisting on going now. "And how are you going to do that, huh? You got a story that she's going to believe?", "Then what are we supposed to do?"          Dean parks the car in front of a gas station, they both got out of the Impala. "We just have to chill out. That's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" Sam sighs. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house.", "Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened.", "Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?", "About that night, you mean?" Sam nods. "Not much. I remember the fire—the heat." Dean pauses for a moment. "And then I carried you out of the front door.", "You did?", "Yeah, what, you never knew that?" Sam shakes his head, "no.", "And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was—was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.", "And he never had a theory about what did it?", "If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.", "Okay. So if we're going to figure out what's going on now—we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing.", "Yeah. We will talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time." After a pause Sam breaks the silence, "does this feel like just another job to you?" Dean says nothing for a moment. "I will be right back. I have to go to the bathroom." Dean walks away, after turning a corner, he stands next to the bathroom door and takes out his cell phone. After making sure no one can see him, he dials a number. "This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean at 866-907-3235." The beep sounds. "Dad? I know I've left you messages before. I don't even know if you'll get them." Dean clears his throat. "But I'm with Sam and Olivia. We're in Lawrence. And there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not, but—" Dean's voice breaks, he pauses, barely keeping himself together. "—I don't know what to do." He begins the cry, not able to hold everything in anymore. "So, whatever you're doing. If you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad." He hangs up sadly, with his eyes still full of unshed tears.

Olivia puts all of her stuff in her bag. She collects the things Sam and Dean left behind. She opens the door and finds the father in front of it, ready to knock. "Father. What are you doing here?" He looks at her bag. "I see you're on your way." She looks down at the duffel and then back at the Father. "Yeah, but come on in." She steps aside and closes the door once the father is in. "What can I do for you?", "I found something, I think you might need it." The father gets out a necklace that had eight pearls on it. She puts the bag down and takes it. "What is it?", "It's our world's pearls." She looks up at him. "You mean the pearls that they need for me to be back?", "Yes, but without the eight other pearls, the ones you have in hands are useless.", "Padre, what are those pearls exactly?", "You. They're you. It's your powers as it is your soul and your memories. Once the sixteen pearls are back together, everything will be back to the way it was.", "You mean it will defeat Profeta?", "No. That only you can do. You and your sword, The Slayer Of Hell.", "The Slayer of what?", "The Slayer Of Hell is your sword, it was made from the Archangel Lucifer's blood and the fire of his anger, and the powers of his brother, Michael. This sword can kill anything, from Gods, Angels, Archangels, Creatures, to Humans. No matter what it is fighting against, it is able to destroy it." Olivia looks down at the necklace. "I know this is a lot to take in, my child, but there isn't much time. If Profeta has the full power and control of Khogalla—" Olivia looks at him, "she'll go for the rest of the world." He nods. "I have to go, Padre. But I will be back.", "You have the phone of the church.", "And you have mine. We will keep in touch." She walks the father to the door. "Thank you." He smiles and leaves. Olivia closes the door and goes to the bathroom, she washes her face with cold water. She dries it, takes the necklace and puts it on.

In Sam and Dean's old house, Jenny is showing a plumber to the kitchen, near the skin. "No, sir, nothing weird down there, I promise. Sink just backed up on its own.", "Well, I'll take a look.", "Thanks." They look at each other for a moment until Jenny gets it, "Oh, okay, I'll get out of your way." Jenny leaves, the plumber sets down his tools and begins looking at the pipes under the sink. A few feet away, by Ritchie's playpen, a toy monkey is sitting with cymbals in its hands. Without warning, the monkey starts up. It clashes its cymbals together loudly while cackling. After a moment, the plumber looks up, confused. The toy stops, the plumber stands up and tries turning on the garbage disposal, but it doesn't work. Instead, he rolls up his sleeve and sticks his hand down the disposal. He thinks he feels something in the drain, but when he takes his hand out, there is nothing. He sticks most of his arm back down the disposal. Suddenly, the garbage disposal starts up. The plumber's arm is being completely torn apart as blood splatters everywhere. At the same time, the cymbal-clashing monkey starts up again, cackling as the plumber screams.          At the Guenther's auto repair, Sam and Dean are talking to the owner of the garage. "So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" The man nods at Dean. "Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh—twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?", "Oh, we're re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of them.", "Oh well, what do you want to know about John?", "Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out of your mind.", "Well—he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that." The owner laughs. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole Marine thing." Sam and Dean nod. "But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids." Sam speaks up for the first time since they're in the garage. "But that was before the fire?", "That's right.", "He ever talks about that night?", "No, not at first. I think he was in shock.", "Right." Sam nods, "but eventually? What did he say about it?", "Oh, he wasn't thinking straight. He said something caused that fire and killed Mary." Dean frowns, "did he ever say what did it?", "Nothing did it. It was an accident — an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something. I begged him to get some help, but…" Dean pushes, "but what?", "Oh, he just got worse and worse.", "How?" Asks Dean. "He started reading these strange old books. He started going to see this palm reader in town.", "Palm reader? Do you have a name?" The owner scoffs at Dean, "No."           The Impala is parked by a payphone where Sam is looking through a phonebook. "All right, so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There's someone named El Divino. There's uh—" Sam laughs. "—there's the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley—", Wait, wait. Missouri Moseley?" Sam looks at Dean, "what?", "That's a psychic?", "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Dean goes into the backseat of the car and pulls out John's journal. "In Dad's journal—here, look at this." He opens to the first page. "First page, first sentence, read that. "I went to Missouri, and I learned the truth." Dean shrugs. "I always thought he meant the state.          Sam and Dean are in front of their motel, leaning on the car. Olivia's car pulls up next to the Impala. She get's out and walks to Sam and Dean. Sam notices her necklace and frowns. He points at it. "What is it?", "Oh, uh, a necklace. So where are we heading?"          Missouri Moseley is escorting a man out of the house while Sam, Dean, and Olivia sit on the couch, waiting. "All right, there. Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you." The man thanks her and she closes the front door behind him. "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-banging the gardener." Olivia laughs. "Tough.", "Why didn't you tell him?" Wonders Dean. "People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news." The trio stares at her. "Well? Sam, Dean, Olivia, come on already. I ain't got all day." She leaves the room. Sam and Dean exchange a confused look, Olivia chuckles and shakes her head. They stand up and follow her into the next room. "Well, let me look at you." She laughs. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And Olivia Parker, you look a lot like your mother when she was your age." She points a finger at Dean. "And you were one goofy-looking kid, too." Dean glares at her while Sam and Olivia smirk. "Sam." She grabs his hand. "Oh, honey— I'm sorry about your girlfriend." The three of them are shocked. "And your father— he's missing?", "How'd you know all that?", "Well, you were just thinking it just now." Sam raises his eyebrows, surprised. "Well, where is he? Is he okay?" She looks at Dean. "I don't know.", "Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?", "Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." Sam smirks at Dean, they sit down. Missouri snaps at Dean. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm going to whack you with a spoon!", "I didn't do anything.", "But you were thinking about it." Dean raises his eyebrows. Sam smiles. Missouri looks at Olivia. "You seem preoccupied, young lady." Missouri looks at Olivia's necklace. "That necklace around your neck, it's powerful." She looks at Olivia, frowning, searching for an answer. "You're in a conflict. You have a choice to make." Olivia clears her throat and slightly moves in her seat. Sam looks at Olivia and sees her discomfort. "Okay. So, our dad — when did you first meet him?" Missouri keeps her eyes on Olivia, then looks at Sam. "He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say—I drew back the curtain for him.", "What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?" Missouri nods at Dean's question. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.", "And could you?", "I—" She shakes her head. Olivia frowns, "Missouri, what was it?" She answers softly, "I don't know. Oh, but it was evil."          Jenny is on the phone in the kitchen while Ritchie jumps around in his playpen. "Look, I feel just awful about the poor man's hand. (...) Wait, but how can I be held liable? (…) Yeah, but I can't afford a lawyer." Jenny begins to hear noises from upstairs. "Okay, listen, you just have to let me call you back." She hangs up. "Ritchie, um, Mommy's going to be right back, okay?", "Okay." Jenny leaves the room.          "So, the thing that killed your mom, your girlfriend, your husband, and son—you think something is back in that house?" Sam nods, "Definitely.", "I don't understand.", "What?" Asks Sam. "I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?" Sam shakes his head, "I don't know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once — it just feels like something is starting." Olivia sighs, Dean shakes his head, "well, that's a comforting thought.          When Ritchie is alone in the kitchen, one of the screws on his playpen mysteriously comes out of place. One of the playpen's sides falls to the floor. At the same time, the safety latch on the door of the refrigerator comes undone. The fridge opens, curious, Ritchie walks over to it. Inside, he sees his sippy cup full of juice. "Juicy." He climbs into the fridge and sits on one of the shelves. Suddenly, the refrigerator door closes, and the safety latch locks into place.          Jenny returns to the kitchen. "Oh, baby, either we have rats, or Mommy's going crazy." She sees that the playpen is empty. "Ritchie? Ritchie?" Panicked, she rushes into the other rooms and tries to find him. "Baby, where are you?!" she comes back into the kitchen, breathing heavily. She sees milk leaking out from inside the fridge. She goes over to it and opens the door. "Mommy.", "Oh my, God!" She takes Ritchie out of the fridge and holds him in her arms. A few moments later, there is a knock on the door. She answers it and sees Sam, Dean, Olivia, and Missouri. "Sam. Dean. What are you doing here?" Sam smiles. "Hey, Jenny. This are our friends, Missouri and Olivia.", "If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show them the old house. You know, for old time's sake."Dean shows a quick smile. "You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy.", "Listen, Jenny, it's important." Missouri smacks Dean on the back of the head. "Ow!", "Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" Missouri looks at Jenny. "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out." Dean looks at Missouri stunned. Olivia rolls her eyes, at first Missouri was fun, but she kept picking on Dean. It started to grow on her. So, she slowly takes Dean's hand in hers. He looks at her, she smiles. Jenny looks at Missouri. "About what?", "About this house.", "What are you talking about?", "I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?", "Who are you?", "We are people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're going to have to trust us, just a little." Jenny looks unsure.           Missouri, Sam, Dean, and Olivia are in Sari's bedroom. Olivia's phone rings. She excuses herself, gets out of the house and answers it. "Olivia Parker. (…) Father? (…) Where are you?! (…) I'm on my way. Hide. I'm coming." She gets upstairs, she takes Dean's hand and gets him out of the room. "I have to head to somewhere. A friend of mine needs me." Dean frowns. "You've been secretive lately.", "I know, I know. And I promise you I will explain everything, but I have to go. His life is in danger." Dean nods, "okay. But be careful. Messages." Olivia nods and leaves the house. Dean returns to the bedroom with Sam and Missouri. "If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it." Sam looks at Missouri, "why?", "This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." Sam glances at the ceiling. While Missouri looks around the room, Dean pulls out his EMF. Missouri looks at him, "is that an EMF?", "Yeah.", "Amateur." Dean glares at her. He nudges Sam and shows him that the EMF is beeping frantically. "I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom. "Wait, are you sure?" She nods at Sam. "How do you know?" Asks Sam. "It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's something different.", "What is it?" She shakes her head at Dean's question, "not it." She opens the closet. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place." Dean looks at Sam then back at Missouri, "what are they doing here?", "They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected." Sam frowns, "I don't understand.", "this place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny, and her babies are dead.", "You said there was more than one spirit." Missouri looks at Sam. "There is. I just can't quite make out the second one.", "Well, one thing's for damn sure — nobody's dying in this house ever again. so whatever is here, how do we stop it?" Missouri looks at Dean and sighs.

Olivia stops her car in an alley. "Father Moore?" She looks around the dark alley, she takes her gun and loads it. "Father Moore!" She hears something moving, she points her gun at it and approaches. When she's close enough, she sees Father Moore lying on the ground. She unloads her gun and runs to him. "Father!! Oh my, God." She puts him on her lap, she presses her hands on his wound that is on his right side. "What happened?", "You have to be careful." She frowns. "Profeta is here." She looks around her then back at Father Moore. "Okay. I'm going to bring you to the hospital." He slightly shakes his head. "Bring me to my Church.", "What? But you're going to die!!", "I'm not afraid of death. Please." Olivia puts him in the backseat of her car and drives as fast as she could to his church. Once she arrives, she pulls up, gets out of the car, opens the backseat door and helps the Father out. They slowly walk to the church, once they're inside, Olivia makes him sit on a bench. She kneels in front of him. "There's got to be a way.", "There isn't. I'm the message. She's coming for you." Father Moore coughs, making blood come out of his mouth. "Oh, this is bad. Please let me bring you to the hospital! You have internal bleeding, please, please.", "No hospital can save me, Queen Olivia." She frowns. She stands up, pacing in the church. She was starting to panic. She stops and looks at Father Moore. "Father?" Her grunts, showing Olivia he was still alive. "Okay. Okay." She turns around and looks at the Jesus statue. "Okay." She takes her necklace in her hands. "Please. Make it work." She closes her eyes and goes down on her knees. "Levy. If you hear me, please. I need your help."

"This is the seventh's pearl. Only one left. And we will be able to—" A strong wind is felt. Levy and the man look around. "Levy. If you hear me, please. I need your help." Levy's eyes widen, "Olivia.", "We have to find the eighth pearl." Levy nods. "And we have to hurry."

"You need to talk with your heart." Olivia turns around and looks at Father Moore. "He can hear you, but he can't find you. Your souls are bound, he's your other half. Talk to him with your heart, it's the only way for you to get him to find you." She nods and places herself again.

Levy was searching with the man for the last pearl, they were both walking when he suddenly stops. "What's going on, Levy?" Levy's eyes go red. "Olivia…" In front of them, something bright red raises in the air. The man looks at it. "Levy, it's the last pearl." Levy raises his hand, the pearl comes to him and into his palm. Suddenly, Levy wasn't in Khogalla anymore. He was in a church, in front of him Olivia was on her knees, her necklace in hands.

Sam and Dean are at Missouri's house, sitting around a table. On this table are different herbs and roots. "So, what is all this stuff, anyway?" Asks Dean. "Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds, and ends.", "Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?", "We're going to put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house.", "We will be punching holes in the drywall. Jenny's going to love that." Missouri looks at Dean and answers slyly, "she'll live.", "And this will destroy the spirits?" Missouri looks at Sam, "it should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are going to get bad."          Missouri is walking Jenny and her kids outside. "Look, I'm not so sure I'm comfortable leaving you guys here alone." Missouri smiles at Jenny, "just take your kids to the movies or something, and it will be over by the time you get back." Jenny, still slightly unsure, leaves with her kids. Missouri goes back inside.          Sam goes into one of the rooms with a hammer. He kneels down by the wall and begins using the end of the hammer to hit against the walls. While he is doing this, a plug on the other side of the room takes itself out of the outlet. A lamp begins to move on its own. The plug snakes its way towards Sam.          Downstairs in the kitchen, Dean is punching the wall with a small ax. Behind him, a drawer begins to open on its own.          In the basement, Missouri is looking around. She brings a bag full of herbs to the wall. She hears a noise and turns around to see a table coming towards her. She screams as it pins her against the wall.          Dean hears a noise, he quickly ducks just as a knife hurls itself into a cabinet. Dean places a table in front of himself as more knives come through it.          Sam is chopping a hole in the wall. The lamp crashes to the ground. Sam turns around to see what the noise was, and the cord wraps itself around his neck. Sam falls to the ground, trying to get the cord off. Eventually, he lies weak on the floor. Dean runs upstairs and into the room. "Sam!" Dea rushes over to him and tries to get the cord off, but it won't budge. Instead, Dean kicks a hole in the wall and places the bag of herbs inside. A blinding white light leaves the room. Once the spirit is gone, Dean goes back over to Sam, who is completely weak. Dean unravels the cord from around Sam's neck and pulls him into a fierce hug.          A few hours later, Sam, Dean, and Missouri are standing in the extremely messy kitchen. Sam looks at Missouri, "Are you sure this is over?", "I'm sure. Why? Why do you ask?", "Never mind." Sam sighs. "It's nothing, I guess." They hear Jenny enter the house. "Hello? We're home." She comes into the kitchen and looks around. "What happened?", "Hi, sorry. Um, we will pay for all of this." Dean looks over at Sam, confused. "Don't you worry. Dean's going to clean up this mess." Dean stands there, not moving. Missouri looks at him. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop." Dean begins walking away. "And don't you cuss at me!" Dean walks away, muttering under his breath.          Missouri and the boys leave the house. Jenny waves and shuts the door behind them.

Jenny is in bed, reading a magazine. She yawns and puts the magazine on her bedside table. After turning off the light and sliding underneath the covers, she goes to sleep. A few seconds later, she opens her eyes, startled. The bed begins to shake violently. She screams and gets out of bed.          Sam and Dean are outside the Winchester house, sitting in the Impala. "All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doing here?", "I don't know. I just…I still have a bad feeling.", "Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.", "Yeah, well, probably. But I just want to make sure, that's all.", "Yeah, well, the problem is, we could be on our way to Olivia and find where she is. I still have no messages from her, she doesn't answer my calls. Goes straight to voicemail." Sam looks up at Jenny's bedroom window and sees her screaming, just as in his dream. "Dean. Look, Dean!" They rush out of the car and run towards the house. "You grab the kids, I'll get Jenny."          Inside Sari's bedroom, the figure made out of fire is standing by her closet. In the hallway, Dean rushes to Jenny's bedroom door. "Jenny!", "I can't open the door!", "Stand back!" Jenny moves back, Dean kicks down the door and brings her downstairs. "No, my kids!!", "Sam's got your kids, come on."          While carrying Ritchie in his arms, Sam goes to Sari's bedroom, where she is screaming for help. Sam goes to Sari's bed and picks her up in his other arm. "Don't look. Don't look!" They leave the bedroom. Outside, Dean and Jenny rush out of the house. Inside the house, Sam rushes down the stairs and puts the kids down on the floor. "All right, Sari, take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back." Suddenly, an invisible force makes Sam fall to the floor. He slides backward into another room, crashing into a table. Sari screams and runs outside with Ritchie. They rush outside to Dean and Jenny. Dean kneels down to Sari's eye level. "Sari, where's Sam?" Sari, crying, answers to Dean, "he's inside. Something's got him." Panicked, Dean looks at the front door. It slams shut on its own.          Dean opens the trunk of the Impala and grabs a rifle and an ax. He rushes to the front door and begins chopping away at it. Inside the kitchen, Sam gets flung into a set of cabinets. He stands up and is pinned against the wall by the invisible force. He can't move any part of his body. The fire figure makes its way towards Sam. Dean continues chopping down parts of the door. Eventually, he makes a whole that he is able to step through. He walks through the house, looking for Sam. "Sam? Sam!" He finds Sam. As he looks at the fire figure, he raises his gun. "No, don't! Don't!", "What? Why?!", "Because I know who it is. I can see her now." Suddenly, the fire vanishes. Instead, standing in front of them is their mother, Mary Winchester. Exactly as she was the night she died. Dean's expression softens. In shock, he lowers his gun slowly. "Mom?" Mary smiles and stops closer to him. "Dean." Tears form in Dean's eyes. Mary walks away from him and goes to Sam. Dean watches her, never taking his eyes off her. "Sam." Sam smiles weakly, crying. His mother's smile fades. "I'm sorry.", "For what?" She looks at him sadly but says nothing. She walks away from them and looks up at the ceiling. "You get out of my house. And let go of my son." Once again, she bursts into flames. When she is entirely engulfed, the fire reaches the ceiling and disappears. The force holding Sam to the wall is released. He walks over to Dean and the two of them look at each other, stunned. Sam sighs, "now it's over."

Dean is standing by the car with Jenny, looking through old photos. "Thanks for these.", "Don't thank me, they're yours." Dean puts the trunk of photos into the car. Sitting on the front steps of the house, Sam is joined by Missouri. "Well, there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure.", "Not even my mom?", "No.", "What happened?", "Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist energy, they canceled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself going after the thing.", "Why would she do something like that?", "Well, to protect her boys, of course." Sam nods, with tears in his eyes. Missouri goes to put her hand on his shoulder, but she stops herself. "Sam, I'm sorry.", "For what?", "You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't.", "What is happening to me?", "I know I should have all the answers, but I don't know.", "Sam, you're ready? We have to find Olivia." Sam nods and goes to the car. Jenny thanks all of them. Missouri looks at Sam and Dean, "don't you boys be strangers." Dean nods, "we won't." Missouri smiles, "see you around." Jenny waves. They smile, get in the car, and drive away.

Missouri comes inside her house and sets her purse on the table. "That boy—he has such powerful abilities. But why he couldn't sense his own father, I have no idea." John is sitting on the couch. "Mary's spirit—do you really think she saved the boys?", "I do." John nods sadly and twists his wedding ring on his finger. "John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why won't you go talk to your children?" Tearfully, John answers, "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to see them. But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth." Missouri and John share a look. "Dean said that Olivia is missing." John frowns. "What? Since when?", "She was with us yesterday, she left, and since then they have no news about her." John looks at Missouri, "you know something, don't you?", "Sam is powerful, but Olivia? She's a force of nature."

Why do you think Arnav wasn't a virgin before Kushi He was really uncomfortable with touching Lavanya & when he was in USA he was with an indian introvert girl Can you message me the answer in private since you said that you don't like how people react to it

PSA (Phati Sari Announcement): I am not interested in a debate over this issue. These are my views and everyone is entitled to disagree or agree as they wish. This is a deeply personal topic because many people have qualities they want in an ideal partner and virginity is sometimes one of them. My saying that I believe Arnav was not a virgin, then, will seem like a personal attack to some. But this is my space and I’m allowed to hold whatever views I wish. If you respect my opinions and arguments, then that respect should be afforded when you agree with me, and when you disagree. I am free to believe Arnav was not a virgin and free to believe that he was an alien, and whether you agree or disagree is up to you. I’m not pushing a particular view on anyone, and would appreciate it if people didn’t decide to “correct” or “educate” me. All it’s going to do is upset both of us. 

A huge huge thank you to @puranijeans​ for helping me out and keeping me sane today! I love you and appreciate you and I do not deserve you.

Hello @dodo8585 :)

I’ve decided to answer this in public because I think it’s important.

The first thing you need to understand is why I am uncomfortable with answering this question. Most people already know what they believe about Arnav’s virginity. He either was a virgin or he wasn’t. There’s an element of confirmation bias around any conversation we have on this topic – people accept only the evidence that supports their view and ignore evidence that goes against it.

I’m not against having a discussion, but often people expect me to defend my views with no intention of changing their own or even defending their position. I honestly don’t care what others think, I have my opinion and I’m happy with it, but I’ve noted that I’m not afforded the same courtesy by others. Even your question frames the situation as “Why do you hold this view when I noticed this and this?”

The short and simple answer is that I view the serial differently from you. And that’s okay.

The (super) long answer is:

Lavanya’s behaviour

When Lavanya moved into Shantivan she expected to be staying in Arnav’s room with him. He expected the same, and it was only Nani’s insistence that she stay in the guestroom that resulted in the situation we saw. Arnav even objected to it in the first instance.

I understand that people excuse this by saying that Arnav was going for the shock value of the arrangement, but I don’t think there was anything in his demeanor to suggest that. He wanted to have a live-in relationship with his girlfriend and an essential part of live-in is the sharing of private space, which in Shantivan is his bedroom.

Lavanya was confident that she could visit Arnav at night dressed in a nightgown. I realise that a lot of people code this confidence as “slutty”, but that feels very slut-shamy to me. There are very few types of women who invite themselves to a man’s bedroom without being confident that she will be received positively. And Lavanya, some six months into her relationship with ASR, doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would risk his ire. She keeps a list of everything that annoys him, and late night visits in nightgowns apparently don’t appear on it.

Her immediate assumption that it was Arnav tickling her (when it was really Lakshmi) in the very same episode also indicates a level of intimacy that goes beyond what they’re allowed to show in desi serials. And this is an important for me because many people argue that they never explicitly shown being intimate!

Neither were Shyam and Anjali, and yet no one is arguing that her conception was immaculate.

Lavanya made a habit of touching Arnav. She touched him often, with haq, and so casually that it implied a deeper intimacy. For example, there is a scene where Lavanya places her hand on Arnav’s upper thigh while speaking to him. She does it without fanfare, and neither of them has any reaction to it, which spoke volumes to me. That’s an area of a man’s body one generally doesn’t touch unless there is a high level of familiarity and intimacy.

A lot of these points are ignored by those who believe Arnav was a virgin. These people genuinely seem to believe that Lavanya behaved like this because she was immoral or wanted sex regardless of Arnav’s wishes, and while they are welcome to their views, I don’t agree.

Arnav’s behaviour

You pointed out that he was really uncomfortable with touching Lavanya. I agree that he was, but only after Khushi became a permanent fixture in his life. When she was first introduced, Arnav had absolutely no issue with Lavanya feeding him cake, kissing his cheek, and even went as far as to tell her that she was one of the few people who could waste his time. I think he stopped being comfortable with physical intimacy with Lavanya when he knew he was sexually attracted to Khushi.

As tempting as it is to shunt Lavanya off and decide that Arnav never cared about her, my interpretation is that she meant a great deal to him. He wasn’t in love with her, but he wasn’t in love with anyone and didn’t think he would ever fall in love. By all accounts, he was a dedicated and honest partner. If she wanted more and he couldn’t give it to her, it was because he was incapable of giving more at the time, not because he was purposefully holding back a part of himself for his True Love.

After all, he claimed not to believe in marriage or love when we met him. If he wasn’t waiting for his future wife, and if he wasn’t waiting for his True Love, then why would be remain celibate? I’m not saying that men are sex-hungry monsters or anything, but Arnav has none of the drivers most people have for remaining celibate. He isn’t religious, and so didn’t believe in repercussions around sex before marriage, and he wasn’t “saving himself” for a wife or True Love.

He was twenty-six when we met him, and I just can’t see why he would remain a virgin when he doesn’t seem to have a reason to.

Breaking the bed

One of the most important things that happened before the remarriage is that Arnav’s bed was replaced. The bed they broke was a symbolic and visual negation of any sexual relationships in Arnav’s past. Even if he had slept with anyone else in that bed, it was replaced before he and Khushi were intimate. In a way, it ensured that their marital bed was solely theirs, a bed they broke in made their own after marriage.

Sheetal

I guess the main reason people believe Arnav was a virgin before Khushi is because he was absolutely sure that he hadn’t slept with Sheetal in college and told Khushi as much. I agree that he said he didn’t sleep with Sheetal, but I have a different interpretation of what he meant when he followed it up with the declaration that he wasn’t “that type of guy”.

On one hand, I think that the writers tried to back away from the narrative that Arnav had clearly slept with women before Khushi. Perhaps it was a way to get the conservative audience on board, perhaps it was because they forgot, but I think they established Arnav one way and then tried to fudge it over in the Sheetal track.

On the other hand, I think there is a difference between having sex before marriage and being promiscuous, and that Arnav could have easily meant that he wasn’t the type of guy who slept with any and every girl. He had previously given Khushi a very long list of past flames as a joke, and she seemingly followed it up with the assertion that he’d fathered Aarav. I think Arnav linked the two and tried to reassure her that he wasn’t the kind of guy who had casual hookups.

Values and commitment

The typical audience for the serial is an Indian woman. And for cultural and religious reasons, this audience equates “commitment” with “marriage”. The idea that Arnav could’ve been committed and dedicated to the point of needing a level of emotional intimacy before engaging in physical intimacy seems to be completely alien to a majority of this audience.

He is either seen as someone who was too busy for sexual relationships, someone who went through the motions of a relationship without wanting or needing any aspects of it. Someone who was completely disinterested in women but let them hang around him for Reasons. But his behaviour with Lavanya never suggested this, in my opinion, so I don’t agree with it.

Or he is seen as a man-whore, someone who banged everything in a skirt (including and not limited to prostitutes), because a lack of belief in love and marriage must equate to a lack of respect for women and an inability to commit.

This is the sort of thinking that Khushi fell prey to. Maybe some part of the audience agreed with her when she argued for the merits of marriage to Lavanya but I think Khushi was laughably ignorant there. Because if the only thing preventing a man from trading a woman in for a younger model (or two!) is his marriage vows then there is something fundamentally wrong in that relationship, whether it is called marriage or not. And this serial is full of men to whom it did not matter any way.

I believe Arnav was a dedicated and committed partner, but that his definition of commitment did not include marriage. I believe he didn’t need the label of Husband, didn’t require his partner to be labelled a Wife, and I think it makes sense given his history.

If not love or marriage, what then was the point of Arnav’s relationships with Lavanya and Sheetal (and Lisa of the fur coat)? I’m not suggesting that every relationship needs to be sexual – many of them aren’t and that’s perfectly understandable – but it still defies logic, in my opinion, to assume that Arnav spent the entirety of his adult life engaged in relationships that weren’t satisfying to him in the ways he needed.

Are we suggesting that he was so starved of people fawning over him that he sought out a special person who’d fawn over him in private and at command?

5.“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”Hope/Light :)

royal!AU tag

total nano count: 20435/50000

Oneof the first things Lightning had been taught regarding her newlyroyal status was that when it came to parties and dinner engagements,she was never late. Everyone else was simply early.

Ofcourse, she'd tried to argue that that made no sense in the contextof her introduction ball since there were a bunch of other royalsthere, but Sazh had just sighed in that exasperated fashion of histhat suggested she was taking years off of his life and told her tohush.

Ifonly she had such an opportunity tonight.

Eversince she'd been found as the long-lost princess of the kingdom ofEden, Lightning had been largely kept away from the public. She knewthat the press offices occasionally released photos to ensure thepeople that she, well, existed,but that was the extent of it. She'd yet to make any sort of contactwith other kingdoms or establish what kind of ruler she would be.

Andyet somehow, Sazh had thought it was a completely brilliantidea to figuratively throw herout to the tigers and have her put mere months of royal training tothe test, when the people she'd be talking with had been royal theirwhole lives.

Well,she supposed that she'd been royal her whole life, too. She justhadn't known it until a little while ago.

Lightningtucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and then dropped her hand,trying not to fuss. She was standing behind a set of double doors,waiting for someone to announce her. Already she could hear voicesmurmuring, probably enjoying the party.

Ofcourse they all would.They weren't the'guest of honor.' Ugh.

“Ladiesand gentlemen, our esteemed guests from far and wide!”

Hadshe been able to run in these shoes, Lightning would've made a breakfor it. After months, it was somehow just now hittingher that she'd gone from a mere soldier just barely above the povertyline to an actual princess whowas soon to be in charge of a whole kingdom and who guarded what wasarguably the most important fal'cie in the world. Howthe hell was she going to pull this off?!

Somethings in life you just do.

“Presentingtonight's guest of honor, Eden's long-lost daughter – Her RoyalHighness, Crown Princess Lightning Farron!”

Heavenforbid they just say 'Princess Lightning' or something.

Insteadof running like she wanted to, Lightning squared her shoulders andstood up straight, her head held high as the double doors opened andshe stepped into the glitz of the ballroom.

Shewas a floor above everyone, so it was all too easy to see the eyesstaring up at her. Honestly, she hoped she wasn't blinding them withher ensemble, though she had to admit, it was quite a work of art.

Hergown was a light blue color (the color a certain personal bodyguardhad said matched her eyes...no, wrong timeto think of that) with a sweetheart neckline. There was delicate laceembroidery in the back the detailed the brand of Phoenix, Eden'sfal'cie. The skirt was full, made possible by way too many layers offabric, though the top layer was covered with a gauzy sort of fabricin a peplumstyle until the hem, which was embedded with a repeating design ofPhoenix's brand in hundreds of tiny diamonds onthe top layer.

Ofcourse, that hadn't been enough. Her hair had been done in a sort ofreverse crown braid – the braid wasat the nape of her neckrather than the top of her head – and the few stubborn pieces ofhair that escaped had been expertly curled. Nestled at the top of herhead and held in by what felt like a pound of hairpins was abrilliant diamond and sapphire tiara – one that was traditionallyworn at introduction balls like this. In fact, when her maids hadbeen putting the tiara on, Lightning had recalled with a shiver ofseeing previous princesses wearing the same one.

Shewas wearing a minimum amount of jewelry to better show off the tiaraand gown, but there were tiny diamond and sapphire earrings hangingfrom her ears and her elbow-length gloves shimmered. Honestly, theearrings alone were probably worth more than her entire career as asoldier in the slums.

Itwas still difficult to think that she deserved to wear any of this.

Lightninggave a little wave and curtsy, the way that'd been drilled into herhead a thousand times. Everyone started applauding politely as shebegan to descend down the grand staircase. It was really unnerving tohave all those eyes on her, especially since she was walking soslowly in an attempt not to trip.

Onceshe was finally at the bottom of the stairs she let out a breath andput on a practiced smile. The 'media smile', it was called. Afterall, a princess needed to look calm and composed at all times.

“Thankyou all for your support tonight,” she said. The voice didn'treally feel like hers. It was coming out of her mouth, sure, but itjust felt like another media trick. Probably because this was thepart of the ball that would show up in magazines and the internet. “Iwelcome you to join me in bringing Eden into a new era. Phoenix willcontinue to light the skies and all of us under its light willcontinue to thrive in return.”

Therewas polite applause and the rigidity in Lightning's shouldersloosened somewhat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sazh wipeimaginary sweat off his brow. She could absolutely relate.

Thehardest part was over. Now...she just had to get through the rest ofthe night.

Sigh.

Afterher little speech, everyone gradually fell into murmuredconversations and there was that pleasant buzz that seemed to alwaysaccompany successful gatherings...not that Lightning had been to verymany, but it was easy to sense.

Sazhscurried up to her before she could take a step. “You know whatyou've gotta do now, right?”

“Takeoff these stupid shoes and run back to my room?”

“Don'tgive me a heart attack. Go and mingle. Relations!Put all that damn paperwork I gave you to use!”

“Right.”This was the part she'd been dreading, even more than the hardestpart of being put on display and speaking to the crowd. She'd neverbeen all that great at small talk and even after extensively goingthrough paperwork describing the other royals and nobles that wouldbe at this ball, she was sure she'd screw up and unintentionallyoffend somebody.

Ormaybe intentionally. Whoknew, maybe some of these people could use a good social faux-pas.

Hereyes wandered as she walked through the crowds, consciously aware ofher tiny steps. Between the heels and how elaborate her dress was,every second was a test of not tripping. Ridiculous.

Shescanned the crowds, looking for a pair of green eyes and a mop ofsilver hair. Hope – her personal bodyguard – had been invitedspecifically by her, and despite some...tense moments between them,she did genuinely hope that he'd still taken her up on herinvitation.

Yeah,tense, she thoughtwith a sigh. The last time they'd been left alone in a room together,he'd almost kissed her. Tense wasone word for it.

“Soyou're Eden's princess, huh?”

Lightningturned around and saw a woman with wild black hair smirking at hercuriously. She was dressed in a deep blue outfit, where the top halfresembled a sari, but the bottom was a more traditional gown. Thedress was adorned with intricate embroidery that Lightning was awarewas the symbol of a fal'cie, though hell if she could remember whichone. Tons of bracelets and necklaces completed the look.

“Yes,”she finally replied with a bob of her head, aware that she'd beenstaring a second too long. “Princess Fang of Oerba, correct?”

“Noneed for the formality, sunshine.” Fang grinned and took a sip ofthe champagne flute she was holding. “If there's no cameras on us,no point in it.”

Lightningcouldn't help but smile. She liked Fang already. “All thingsconsidered, I should probably err on the side of caution.” As muchas she hated it.

“Suityourself. Want one?”

“Sure.”Lightning took the proffered champagne and took a tiny sip. It tastedway too expensive, but considering all the diamonds she was wearing,she shouldn't have been surprised. “Have you been to Eden often?”

“Lasttime was right before the last of the royal family croaked.” Fangshrugged one shoulder. “Though I guess technically they're yourfamily, too.”

Lightningpaused. She honestly hadn't really thought of it like that before.“Technically, I guess.They're very distant,though. Nobody knew about me until Sazh decided to poke around.”

Fangbarked out a laugh. “Of course it was him! He's good at that, eh?”

“Youknow Sazh?”

“Anyroyal that's got half a brain to speak of knows him.” Fang liftedher glass a bit as though in a toast. “Of course, he's long sincesettled in Eden, but he's coached all sorts of us over the years. Theguy's constantly grumblin' about us 'kids'.”

Lightning'ssmile widened a bit. “Sounds like him.”

“He'sjust pissed 'cause Vanille decided she'd rather spend time with merather than get schooled by him.” She finished her champagne.“Speakin' of which...”

“Vanille?”She didn't mean...

“Oi!Vanille!”

Agirl in a beautiful gown in colors of the sunrise suddenly appearedwith a wide smile on her face. She had a bounce to her step despitethe elaborate headdress she was wearing, which was dripping with goldpieces stamped with the symbol of Luxerion's fal'cie. Like Fang, shewore an alarming number of necklaces and bracelets.

Recognitionquickly dawned and Lightning couldn't hide her wide eyes. This wasDia Vanille – one of the royals her bodyguard had worked with...andclaimed to knew quite well.

Damnit.Where was he, then, tocoach her through this?

“Fang!”Vanille grinned and flung her arms around the other woman Lightningquirked an eyebrow when the hug turned into a kiss.

Wait.What?

“What,nobody ever mentioned that?” Fang said with a smirk when shenoticed Lightning's confused expression. “There's a reason the oldroyal family used to call me an 'old hag' for not being married. Theywere sorta prissy about it.”

“Oh.”Lightning blinked and shook her head a bit. “Well...I have noreason to be.” And that was the truth. She herself wasn't attractedto women, so what the hell did it matter to her if Fang and Vanillewere together? Had the old royal family honestly had a problem withit? The thought of being associated with such an archaic idea madeher uncomfortable.

“KnewI'd like ya.” Fang grinned and kissed Vanille again. “Sweetheart,don't be rude and say hello to the new princess.”

Eventhough Sazh probably would've had a heart attack if he'd heardsomething like that, Lightning just chuckled as Vanille turned with abright smile and held up her hands in a strange gesture – pinkyfingers crossed and her index fingers touching as she bowed.Lightning curtsied in return.

“It'sso nice to finally meet you!” Vanille grasped Lightning's hands,which took her by surprise, but all she could do was go with it.Plus, she could tell by instinct that Vanille was a good person. Heropinion had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Hopeapparently knew her quite well. “I've been wanting to meet Eden'snew princess ever since I heard about you! It's a terrible shame thatso much of the royal family perished, but...well, you're here now,aren't you?”

“Right.”Lightning's head was spinning. She was starting to get the vibe thatmost of the royals around here hadn't cared much for the old familythat had ruled over Eden and inwardly cursed herself for not payingmuch attention to the news when she was younger.

Thenagain, she'd been too busy trying to keep a roof over her head.

“Plus,I just love a good ball, don't you? It's so old-fashioned.” Vanillegrinned as the music from the live orchestra gradually changed. “Oh,Fang! Dance with me!”

Fangchuckled. “Can't disobey an order.” She winked as Vanille tuggedher out to the dance floor. “We'll talk later, eh?”

“Right,”Lightning echoed and watched as they scurried further into theballroom. Somehow, Vanille's bouncing became a lot more graceful asthey began to waltz, their gowns sweeping around them in perfectunison.

Eventually,she looked away and let out a breath. Okay. She'd met two of the mostimportant guests here and it actually hadn't been too bad. The restof the night would be a piece of cake. Practice made perfect, afterall, or so Sazh was constantly harping at her. Probably why he madeher repeat etiquette lessons constantly.

“Hel-loooo.Princess Lightning, right?”

Lightningturned and looked up – and up– at an unfamiliar tall man with shaggy blond hair, dressed in adark suit. It was precisely at this second that she remembered Sazhtelling her that these introduction balls were typically held to lookfor potential suitors.

“Yes,”she finally replied with a curtsy, though she was already a littleannoyed. Obviously that'swho she was – or had this guy missed the whole littleparade-and-speech earlier?

“SnowVilliers,” he introduced with a bow. “I'm the Patron of Yusnaan.”

Sheraised her eyebrows a little. Even she knew about Yusnaan – it wasthe only nation with a fal'cie that wasn't under any sort of formalrule. Snow had been elected by the people, but he wasn't bound to theduty. The only reason Yusnaan got away with this was because theirfal'cie, Pandaemonium, was in charge of a lot of the industry andfood production in that area of the world, which created tons of jobsfor the people. It was a notorious situation that was unlike anyother, but despite this, she hadn't heard much about the Patronhimself.

Honestly,she already wasn't all that impressed.

Still,she had to be polite. Relations and all that. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”He grinned, and it was the sort of expression someone had when theywere trying way too hard to be charming. She resisted the urge toroll her eyes. “Would you care for a dance?”

Oh,crap.

Sheknew there were cameras in the room to take press photos, and she'dbeen warned more than once that several would probably be taken whileshe was on the dance floor – it just lookedmore interesting for the princess to be dancing or doing somethinginstead of standing around chatting. On top of that, it'd also beenheavily implied that whoever she was photographed dancing with wouldcreate 'human interest,' meaning people would jump to romanticconclusions.

Ofcourse, never mind that she'd never met any of these people in personbefore, nor did she have any intention of getting romanticallyinvolved with anyoneunless they happened to be her personal bodyguard -

Wait.

Sheinwardly shook herself. Obviously, the press would make whatever thehell comments it wanted, regardless of her actions. Better that theyget their photos out of the way now, right?

“Iwould be honored,” Lightning finally replied, using the wordsthat'd been drilled into her head. Snow offered his arm with atoo-charming grin that had zero effect on her, but she took the crookof his elbow anyway.

Themusic had flowed into something a bit more upbeat, so it was easy todistract herself with counting steps and remembering where the hellher hands were supposed to go. It was awkward, because she was soused to dancing with someone shorter, who she didn't have to race tokeep up with and could lead instead...

Gods.What the hell was wrong withher?

Eventhough Snow was a big lug who had zero grace and kept nearly steppingon her gown, she somehow managed to keep a pleasant smile on her facethe whole time they waltzed, if only for the cameras. She spottedFang and Vanille – who were still dancing – out of the corner ofher eye and they seemed amused for some reason.

“Eden'sreal lucky they found you,” Snow said at one point. “But man, Ican't imagine living all normally and then suddenly getting thrustinto this.”

Shehummed in agreement. It occurred to her that Snow was probably theonly person here who could somewhat relate to her, since he'd beenelected to his position. It was a frightening thought that she hadanything in common with the guy. “I suppose,” she finally said.“I'm just glad this means I get to give my sister a better life.”

“Youhave a sister?”

Howwas it that she'd been required to memorize a bunch of facts aboutthese visiting royals and important people, but they apparentlyhadn't had to do the same? Or maybe Snow just didn't care. “Yes.She's around here somewhere. They're just putting the spotlight on mefor obvious reasons.”

“CanI meet her?”

Thatsurprised her, but Lightning was so eager to stop dancing that sheimmediately agreed. “Sure.”

Oncethe dance was over, she led Snow into a crowd of guests. She thoughtshe'd spotted her sister here earlier...

“Serah?”

“Sis!”Serah, always a lot more personable, gracefully extracted herselffrom a five-person conversation and went up to Lightning, graspingher hands excitedly. “Light, you look so beautiful in that dress.Those seamstresses really outdid themselves!”

“Thankyou.” She smiled, maybe her first genuine one of the night. “Youlook beautiful too, Serah.” And she did. Serah's hair was free fromits usual side ponytail and had been swept up into an elaboratelybraided bun at the top of her head. A few tendrils around her facehad been curled to perfection. The updo perfectly showed off theglitzy pastel pink gown she was wearing. Like her sister's, it alsohad lace embroidery on the back with the symbol of Phoenix.

“You'rejust saying that,” Serah teased, but she looked happy all the same.Finally, she seemed to notice Snow and looked up. Way up.Snow was easily twice the size of her tiny sister. “And youare...?”

Snowgrinned, but unlike Lightning, Serah practically swooned at it. “Myname is Snow Villiers. I'm the Patron of Yusnaan.” He made a grand,sweeping bow. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Serahgiggled and immediately dropped into a curtsy. “The pleasure is allmine, Mr. Villiers. I'm Serah Farron, Princess of Eden.”

Eventhough it was completely uncouth, Lightning's mouth fell open as Snowand Serah giggled throughout their pleasantries, which eventuallyturned into a request for a dance – a much more enthusiastic one onSnow's part – and she stared, totally flabbergasted as Snow andSerah waltzed across the dance floor. It looked completely ridiculousbecause of their height difference, but...

“Excuseme, Your Highness?”

Onlya lifetime of training as soldier kept Lightning from jumping out ofher skin. Instead, she sucked in a quick breath and put on a smile asshe turned to the voice. Standing there was a girl who was dressed inwhat looked more like a uniform than a ballgown, though it was formalenough. She didn't look familiar, so Lightning simply nodded.

“Yes?”

“Myname is Alyssa,” the girl said after a quick bow. “I'm her arepresentative of Academia. The President sends his regrets that hecouldn't make an appearance.”

“Oh.”Lightning vaguely recalled Sazh saying that Academia's Presidenthadn't replied to the invitation to the ball, but she hadn't reallythought to question it. Academia was a relatively new nation. Theyboasted the world's only man-made fal'cie, which honestly just seemedcrazy, but she hadn'tgiven it much thought. The leader, their President, was a personshrouded in mystery. It was speculated that there wasn't aPresident at all, because nobody had ever seen the guy. Or girl.

Therefore,it hadn't been such a surprise that there hadn't been an answer tothe invitation, and beyond that, Lightning hadn't really had time tomuse about it. After all, she wasn't about to rule Academia, so whatbusiness was it of hers?

Asecond later, she reminded herself of appearances. “Please send myregards to him. It'd be great to meet someday.”

Alyssaseemed amused at this, but she simply nodded. “Of course,Your Highness. In fact, if I could be so bold, he didn't think muchof the old royals. He might finally be willing to show himself to thepublic if Academia and Eden decided to ally.”

Ugh.Politics. Still, Lightning's smile didn't falter. “We'll have tosee, but I'm definitely open to the idea.”

“Goodto hear!” Alyssa said. She opened her mouth like she was going tosay more, but she flicked her eyes to something in the distance andinstead bowed again. “Well then, thank you for your time, YourHighness. I should be off.”

“Niceto meet you.” Lightning sighed as Alyssa walked off. Gods, this wasexhausting.

“Areyou all right, Your Highness?”

Lightning'shead whipped over her should and she spun around at the familiarvoice, her smile immediately forming into something much moregenuine. Despite the awkwardness of the last time they'd been alonetogether, right now, she'd never been so glad to see a familiar face.

“Hope,”she greeted with a smirky smile, her dress rustling as she stepped upto him. “What have I told you a thousand times? Call me Light.”

“Ithought formality would be a little more appropriate here.” Hiseyes flicked over her appearance. “You look...”

Evenbefore he said the word, a blush formed on Lightning's face that hadnothing to do with any makeup. It wasn't the first time he'd saidanything like this to her. Hell, it wasn't the first time tonightthat anyone had said such a thing, but coming from him...

“...Absolutelystunning.”

...Itwas different.

“T-Thankyou,” she managed to reply, cursing her little stutter as she triednot to let the mood get...awkward. After all, they were in a ballroomwith dozens of people, not to mention cameras. “You look...verynice yourself.”

Thatwas putting it mildly. Though Hope always dressed in a neat andprofessional manner as her personal bodyguard, apparently he went theextra mile at a ball. His three-piece suit was perfectly tailored,like it'd been painted on his body, and his aqua tie brought out thebrilliant shades of green in his eyes.

Herheart was pounding. Not good.

Ifshe wasn't mistaken, Hope's cheeks flushed at her praise, but hemerely cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Thesilence that followed was both awkward and comfortable in that wayshe usually was around Hope. It didn't matter that they were in aballroom full of people and that she was guest of honor all eyes wereon. The world always dwindled down to just the two of them when theywere together.

How?

“YourHighness!”

Lightningwas startled out of her stupor when someone called for her, andsomehow, she found herself away from Hope's side for the next fewhours. She talked to one of the noblemen of the Yaschas Massif andthen danced with the Primarch's son, who was even taller than Snow.At least the guy was quiet and courteous. Perhaps because thePrimarch worked so closely with the monarchy of Eden.

Fangand Vanille came to talk to her again to rescue her from a longconversation with a guest, and honestly, she was glad for it. Ifnothing else, she could say that she'd made friends of the two women.While that was good for relations and all, Lightning had never reallybeen all that close to other people, whether she was a princess ornot, so it was nice that there were people who sought her company.

Whenthe peak of the ball had inexplicably passed, made obvious by thefact that the cameras were finally gone, Lightning watched Fang andVanille go back to the dance floor. Serah was still offwith Snow somewhere, which almost made her want to go pry them apart,but Lightning was glad for a moment alone to breathe.

Thatmoment didn't last too long, but at least this time, the interruptionwas welcome.

“Thereyou are, Light.”

Shesmiled as Hope appeared beside her. “I'm sorry about before.”

Heshook his head. “Don't worry about it. I know what this event wasabout. It's important for you to mingle and make relations.”

“I'vehad about enough of that tonight,” she admitted. She wasridiculously glad that these balls weren't an everyday affair,because the thought of schmoozing and socializing like thisconstantly gave her a headache. Maybe she had a bit of confidence inthe political side of things, but the social aspects of being Eden'sprincess...ugh.

“Doesthat mean you're free from the rest of your obligations tonight?”

“UnlessSazh decides to spring something else on me.”

Hopechuckled, shifting where he was standing. He seemed weirdlynervous...at least until he turned to her and bowed at the waist.“Then will you please do me the honor of a dance?”

Lightningblinked in surprise. Hope wanted to dance with her? Why?

Okay,she did recall one of their dance lessons, and according to Sazh,they'd been totally coordinated. The orchestra was still playing andthere were still people on the dance floor. It wasn't totally out ofthe realm of possibility that Hope would want to dance with her.

Maybehe wanted to try and...

No,of course not. Their almost-kiss had been a total fluke. Despiteevidence to the contrary, she'd completely acknowledged it and movedon. This was just a princess dancing with her bodyguard.

Withthat thought, Lightning gave him a little smile and held out herhand. “I would be honored.”

Hopelooked just as surprised at her acceptance, but he quickly took herhand and led her out onto the dance floor with a little smile. Maybeit was just because she'd been waltzing all night, but the placementof their hands were perfectly in sync – automatic, like she'd donethis with him a thousand times before. The music began a simpleballad and they began to spin around the room, her dress glitteringin the light of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Aftera moment, Hope relaxed even further and chuckled sheepishly. “Ihave to admit, I wasn't sure if you'd agree to dance.”

Lightingsmirked, squeezing his hand a bit. “I promised you one awhile ago,did I?”

“...Youdid,” he answered slowly, recalling a memory. “But you've beenwith so many others tonight. I wasn't sure if you'd be up for it.”

Eventhough it was the sort of kind and courteous thing a bodyguard wouldsay, there was something in Hope's tone that made her search his eyesfor what he wasn't quite saying. Maybe it was from all these monthsof royal training, teaching her to look people in the eye and findwhat was beyond the surface, but it eventually came to her.

“Waita minute...were you jealous?”

Hopecleared his throat and ducked his head a bit like he needed to watchhis feet, which was stupid since they were waltzing together sobeautifully. Lightning couldn't help but smile with a slight smirk,since his lack of verbal reply was more than answer enough.

Aftera couple more spins around the ballroom, he finally spoke. “Iwouldn't say that,exactly. I...I simply remembered that you'd promised me a dance and Iwas hoping I'd get to take you up on your offer.” He looked at herfrom behind his bangs. “That's all.”

Thatwasn't all and theyboth knew it. Even though she kept trying to push it out of her mindfor both of their sakes, her mind again drifted to their almost-kiss.Her eyes flickered down to his lips without realizing it, and not forthe first time, she wondered what it would feel like to finally havethem meet hers.

Ofcourse, usually when she had this stupidly girly daydream, she wasalone in her room, which meant that she had to snap out of it. Now!

Sheforced herself to meet his eyes. “I wouldn't leave my personalbodyguard hanging.”

Herwords brought a brilliant smile to his face and they fell even morein sync as the music swelled and got a bit faster, bringing joy totheir steps in a way she hadn't felt all night. She felt as light asair as Hope spun her around, occasionally letting her take the leadsince that was her instinct. The fact that he let her withoutquestion spoke volumes of how well he knew her.

Ormaybe just how often he'd worked with her. He was herpersonal bodyguard, after all, but then why didn't this feel like abodyguard-and-charge dance? How was he – and not the palace, gowns,tiaras, or hoard of servants -  making her feel like an actualprincess for the firsttime since she'd found out about her royal blood?

Maybebecause, despite the friendliness of most of the other royals here,he was the only one who seemed to truly believe that she could do thejob and be better atit.

Ifit weren't for her stupid shoes, she honestly felt as though shecould've danced with him all night. As it was, she still wasn'tentirely used to being on her feet in heels for so long. Seriously,nobody could see her feet, so why couldn't she have worn somethingmore comfortable?

Lightningsqueezed Hope's hand to get his attention. Even though he was staringright at her, he looked a bit dazed. She couldn't help but wonder ifher expression was the same. “Can we stop? My feet are killing me.”

“Ofcourse.” He carefully guided her away from the rest of the peoplewaltzing – she saw Serah and Snow out of the corner of her eye,hmph – with a grace that she didn't really expect from a bodyguard.

Thenagain, he'd been surprising her since they day they'd met.

“Wouldyou like to sit, Your Highness?”

Sherolled her eyes. “Seriously? A few dances and you're going allformal on me again?”

Hesmiled. “Light. May I escort you to a seat?”

“Nowyou're just being ridiculous.” Impulsively, she flicked hisforehead, immediately regretting the action since that was definitelynot protocol.

Thankfully,he only blinked a few times before smiling again and offering her hisarm. “Well?”

“Ithink I just need to rest a minute.” How many hours had gone by,anyway? Sazh had mentioned offhand that the most splendid balls couldhave people dancing until dawn. She shuddered at the thought. “Canwe go somewhere quiet?”

“Ofcourse.”

Maybeit was from all the champagne that'd been served all night, buteverybody seemed too buzzed to notice the guest of honor basicallyescaping the party. Hope led her to a hidden hallway off in a cornerof the room, which further led to a door that opened up to thebalcony.

Sheinhaled deeply as they walked outside, glad for the fresh air. Themusic and hubbub seemed very far away. “Thank you.”

“You'rewelcome.” Hope wandered behind her, his hands behind his back asthey always seemed to be when they were around each other.

Shegestured to his formal stance. “You can relax a little. It's justus.”

Hopesmiled a bit sheepishly – and handsomely, can't forget that – andlet his arms fall to his sides. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Likeforgetting to call me 'Light'?”

“Exactly.”

Theychuckled. She felt more relaxed than she had in ages. Her eyeswandered over the dark, star-studded sky and she grasped the railingof the balcony as though afraid of falling. The world seemed so bigat that moment. It was hard to believe that she mattered so much inthe grand scheme of things – that princesses went down in historybooks, while the families that did just as much or even more got norecognition at all.

Andhow many families like that were there? More than there was royalty,of course. If she squinted, she could just barely make out the areawhere she and Serah had grown up. Further off were the slums, wherethey'd been forced to live when money got tight.

Somany hundreds and thousands of people lived like that, and yet,because she just happened to be from the right bloodline, she wasplucked from it all. It didn't seem fair that there were peoplestruggling to survive while she was literally wearing a dress coveredin diamonds.

“Light?”

Onlya lot of self-control kept her from jumping in surprise. “Yes?”

“Youlook lost in thought.” Hope approached her a bit cautiously tofinally stand beside her. “Are you all right?”

“Iwas just...thinking about the last time we talked.” And almostkissed, but no need to acknowledge that. Again.

Itmay have been her imagination, but she could've sworn Hope held hisbreath before responding. “You have?”

“Abouthow I could use my experience to help.” He visibly relaxed at herwords. “It just...it seems like such a huge undertaking. I wouldn'teven know where to start.”

“Atthe beginning.”

Sherolled her eyes. “I doubt it's that easy.”

“Probablynot,” he agreed. “But everything has a beginning.”

“Iguess.” The words were pretty generic, but still, he had a point.“I just hope that I can do anything at all. A lot of people I'vespoken to tonight apparently didn't like the old royal family thatmuch.”

Ifthis surprised Hope, he hid it well. Maybe he hadn't liked them,either. “Really.”

“Yes.”Lightning glanced back up at the stars. The moon that followedPhoenix was just a sliver in the sky. “And when I was working as asolider, we didn't really talk about the royals. They were a worldaway. Even though they made our laws and everything, it felt likenothing they did ever actually affected us.”

“Butyou know they did,” Hope pointed out. “And like I said, you'veseen both sides. I think that'll eventually come to be your biggeststrength.”

She'dknown ever since he'd said as much during their last privateconversation that he was right. Her empathy towards those who weredown in life – it wasn't anything any of Eden's previous royalsseemed to have. Maybe that was a reason they seemed to be so dislikedby a lot of the other kingdoms.

“It'sa lot to take in,” she finally said. “Even though it's beenawhile since I was crowned and everything, I don't think it's allreally hit me yet.” She never would have admitted this to anyoneelse, but Hope was different. He'd been different from the start.

Thoughwith how much she'd been rambling about her feelings aroundhim, she still hadn't discerned if this was a good or bad thing.

“Ofcourse not. It's a big change, especially when they do something likethis.” Hope made a sweeping gesture in the general direction of theballroom. “I don't think gatherings for soldiers in the Corps werequite so...”

“Expensive?”

“Iwas going to say 'elegant,' but yes, that too.”

Lightningsmirked, finally looking away from the sky to face him, though to hersurprise, Hope was already staring at her. Had he been looking at herthis whole time? There was something strangely intense in his gaze –something she'd felt since the moment they'd met, but hadn't wantedto put a name to until now.

Desire.

She'dalready halfway closed the space between them by the time he wasleaning in, and she tugged on his tie for good measure, an anchor tohold onto when their lips finally met.

Heheld on tightly, his fingers clinging to the fabric of her gown. Eventhough the kiss was strangely soft, there was an untapped passionsimmering between them that she could feel as though it was tangible.She'd never felt anything like it before...not that she had muchexperience to compare this to.

Maybeit was instinct. That was the one rule in life she always followed –to trust her instincts. And if her instincts wanted her to part herlips so the kiss could deepen? No way in hell was she about todisobey.

Hope'shands felt like they were burning on her body. She could feel everytouch, every movement of his fingertips as he traced the lace on herback, every little twitch as he pulled her even closer. Her handsmussed his perfectly coiffed hair, just begging for somethingto hold onto. For a second, she contemplated on taking off the stupidelbow-length gloves she was wearing, but that probably requiredbreaking the kiss and she was incredibly reluctant to do such athing.

Gods,kissing him was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. It didn'teven compare to, say, suddenly becoming the princess of the kingdomyou'd lived in your whole life. This was far more intense. Lightninghad never been a particularly romantic person or someone who boughtinto the whole idea that someone could be your other half, but withHope, all of those weird ideas felt like an actual reality.

Andit was all of this from just a kiss.

Okay,so it was a lot of kisses. But even so...

Eventually,one of them pulled away – she honestly couldn't tell who, since shewas already so lightheaded – and she resisted the urge to reconnecttheir lips as they both quietly gasped for air. All of this wascompletely unlike her.Maybe it was just the stress from everything catching up with her.Yeah. Except not.

“Light...”Hope murmured, his eyes only half-open. Clearly, he was just as dazedas she was. “Light, I...”

“Yes?”Her voice was husky in a way that she hadn't even known she'd beencapable of.

Somethingabout it, however, seemed to snap Hope out of his daze. He suddenlygasped and they flew apart, his eyes wide with something akin topanic, which was strange in itself since she'd never seen him lookanything but calm and collected.

“I...I'msorry,” he said, not quite looking at her. She could've sworn hewas trying to avoid staring at her lips. “I can't.”

“What?”

Hopestammered out something unintelligible, but before Lightning couldeven think to get him to elaborate, he turned and went back inside.

Yearsof training instantly kicked in and she followed, calling out hisname and demands for him to wait, just waita minute, but either Hope was way faster than she'd given him creditfor or he was using some secret passage that nobody had told herabout yet. When she finally made her way back to the ballroom, Hopehad completely vanished.

Andhe hadn't even left a shoe behind.

Lightninghad no idea how long she stood there, just staring into the crowdlike it was going to give her an answer, but eventually, someonetouched her arm and brought her mind back from wandering.

“Sis?”

“Serah?”Thank goodness it was her and not anybody else. Except Hope. Hopewould've been preferable, and she hated herself for thinking that.

“Areyou okay?” Serah cocked her head a little. “You look tired. Comesit down with me, okay?”

“Allright.” Lightning let Serah lead her around, not even wondering howher sister managed to extract herself from the Patron's side or ifthere was something else going on. There was only one person on hermind, and now, one question.

Whyhad Hope pulled away?

Ormore importantly...

Wouldhe return?

Bell

Raahi returned from school that day with a pamphlet gripped in her small hand. It’s the most determination she could summon into her soul, with the rest being fear. The fear a child has when she must ask a strict mother for money. If her father had been in town, she would have asked him instead. It was just her luck that he had left on business right as the Skydancers came to her small village to put on a performance. 

Her mother was on the patio right outside the kitchen, sitting in front of the grinding stone. Various spices had been mixed with grain and filled into the bowl shaped crevice of the stone. As Raahi watched, her mother hefted a massive pestle and smashed it into the crevice. She began rotating it in a clockwise motion, putting some of her weight onto the pestle while she crushed the dry mixture. The sharp, spicy smell hit Raahi immediately along with the soft crunching and she picked up the large jug of water that was waiting to the side. Amala looked up. “Ah. You’re home.” She stopped grinding for a moment so Raahi could pour in some water. “Enough.” When Raahi stopped, she continued grinding. “I’ve left some rice on the table. Wash your hands then eat.”

“I’ll help first, Ma.” Raahi poured some more water after squatting across from her mother. The pamphlet she had brought was shoved into the pocket of her school uniform. 

“Mmm.” Amala didn’t say anything beside that, though she was mildly pleased by Raahi’s offer to help. She paused to wipe sweat with her sari and cough into it before resuming. “Where are your sisters?”

How would I know? I just got home. Raahi thought. “I don’t know, Ma.”

“Mmm.” Amala coughed again as she inadvertently inhaled some more of the dry spice still coating the sides of the grinding stone. “Pour the water properly!”

“Sorry.” Raahi stifled a cough of her own while she poured water onto the dry spices, washing them down into the batter that was forming. Once that was done, she went back to squatting. She absentmindedly swatted away a fly. It returned moments later, landing in various spots on Raahi and never satisfied with where it picked. After Raahi swiped her hand at it again - it had attempted to land on her cheek - the fly left to go somewhere else. 

Amala clicked her tongue in annoyance as the fly landed on her face but ignored it when it crawled around on her stomach, getting lost in the folds of her sari. Raahi knew she’d have to hurry if she wanted to make it to the Skydancer show on time but this part was important. Amala looked to be in a decent enough mood but Raahi needed to make sure. For that, she had to help with the dinner prep. “Are there any vegetables I can chop for you, Ma?”

Amala kept grinding but her eyes were on Raahi now. “What’s that in your pocket?”

Raahi sighed internally. She had been caught. And so easily! She handed the pamphlet over with a shaking hand while feigning extreme interest in the batter. It was a cream color with flecks of red from the crushed red pepper that had been added. When she felt Amala’s eyes on her, Raahi’s interest in the batter amplified.

“You can go.” 

Raahi looked up so quickly she winced from the whiplash. “Really?”

“Mmm.” Amala gave the pamphlet back and resumed her work. “Eat your rice then go. Return before nightfall.”

“Thank you, Ma!” Raahi shot straight up, almost dropping the jug. It was her good luck that she didn’t.

“Mmm.” Amala said, looking at the unbridled excitement in her daughter’s dark brown eyes. “There’s spare change in the drawer by the door. Take what you need and not a single cent more! I will be checking.”

“Okay, Ma!” Raahi hopped from one foot to the next, careful to not spill any water. 

“And no talking to boys!”

Why would I do that? Amala thought. “Okay, Ma!”

“Mmm.” Amala said. “Go on. Eat, then go.” 

Raahi carefully set the jug down then danced her way to the dinner table, the skirt of her navy blue school uniform twirling with every twist. She ate the rice in record speed, her brain only registering the extra spice while she was rummaging in the drawer for change. Raahi didn’t even consider going back for water, instead running out the door while hissing softly. The cool air rushing out her mouth didn’t ease the heat on her tongue but Raahi didn’t care. She was about to see Skydancers! 

“Goodness, girl!” A neighbor exclaimed as she watched from her home’s gate. “Where are you off to in such a rush?”

“Skydancers!” Raahi called out. She turned the corner and didn’t hear what the woman had to say. Many of the villagers Raahi sped past asked the same question and to all of them she responded with a single word, “Skydancers!” The villagers all watched her run with gentle amusement, nostalgic for their own childhoods. 

When she got to the village center, Raahi’s excitement dimmed slightly from the crowd. What if she wasn’t able to get a good spot to watch? There’s no way she could see over the heads of all the adults present. She’d be able to see the main part of the performance regardless of where she stood, but Raahi wanted to watch the entire thing.

“Raahi!” Said the man at the ticket counter. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” Raahi held out an open palm, 25 cents shining up at the man. Exactly enough to admit a child. “One ticket please!” 

“One ticket for the young miss.” The man ripped a stub from the roll he had attached at his hip and handed it to her before taking her change and dropping it into the coin box. He then wrote out a receipt to give her. “Here, Raahi. For your mother. Hurry! The show is going to start soon!”

“Thank you, sir!” Raahi took the receipt and sped off. Evidently her luck was to continue because many of the adults that saw her smiled and pushed her to the front of the crowd. One man offered to carry her on his shoulder but after she shyly refused, he smiled and let her continue making her way through the audience. Sooner than she expected, Raahi was at the front. She shifted from one foot to another, with her small arms intertwined with each other and a cute smile lighting up an already cute face. 

Without preamble, a man burst from the floor of the stage, flipped in the air, and landed with his arms spread wide. The sound of bells faded as quickly as they had appeared. His white tassel cloak hid most of his torso and arms, revealing only ringed fingers. On his ankles, just past his black leggings, were the belled ankle bracelets that Skydancers were famous for. “Hello, kind people of Baavi!” His ankle bracelets chimed as he lightly tapped his heels together.

“Hello!” The kind people of Baavi cheered back.

“My name is Rithik, master Skydancer.” Rithik bowed, his oiled, black hair covering his face until he stood straight once again. “I have traveled far and wide but no other place makes me as happy as Baavi. And that can only be because of its people! Where else could I find such kindness?” Rithik rolled his eyes. “In Udum? Bah! Impossible.”

The crowd laughed as their neighboring village was dragged by the performer. Raahi laughed just to join in. 

“It is because of that kindness that I return season after season.” Rithik said. “I am a city boy, dear Baavi. Where I am from, a man will hide his money box from his own wife. Yet here? Well.” Rithik waved imperceptibly and a young woman walked onto the stage. “I could leave my most precious treasure in your hands and I would return to find her unsullied.” He laughed. “In fact you would not return her to me! You would not trust a man who would so willingly abandon his daughter!” Rithik turned to his daughter. “Am I wrong, Asifa?” 

“No, Papa.” Asifa smiled. Her own tassel cloak was the color of the noon sky. While her father’s cloak stopped just past his waist, Asifa’s cloak extended to her knees. The leggings she wore were the white of clouds and her ankle bracelets were gold - compared to her father’s silver. Raahi thought Asifa was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

“And so, to show how much we love this village, Asifa will be picking one of your children to be a part of our performance today!” Rithik announced to a crowd that quickly grew silent from the shock. You could not be a Skydancer without magic and no one in Baavi had that rare blessing. The villagers looked at each other, seeking comfort in familiar faces. As Raahi had no one to look at, she just stared at Asifa. 

“Shall I begin searching, Papa?” Asifa asked. Once Rithik nodded, she walked to the edge of the stage. As if walking on invisible steps, Asifa descended to the ground. She momentarily stopped to wriggle her bare toes in the soft, dark ocher dirt. They were long, light brown, and, Raahi noted, had silver rings adorning them. These Skydancers were rich! “Who wears the face I seek?” Asifa asked in a sing-song voice as she walked along the crowd's edge. “Who wears the face hiding Garuda’s blessing in their hearts? I can feel it! Such a warm strength you hold, dear child.” 

Baavi’s shock increased! One of their children had magic! Who could it be? They looked at the kids now in a futile attempt to detect magic. Raahi felt people stare at her but she didn’t think much of it. It couldn’t be her. She was just Raahi, the third daughter of Velu and Amala. A shy, quiet girl with a pretty face and that’s all. 

“Will you not come to me?” Asifa continued in her voice that dripped with honey. “Will you not dance with me?”

Raahi watched eagerly as Asifa got closer to her. Would she get to see the person get picked? Raahi dearly hoped so. Could it be Raja? Raahi hoped it was him. She had never talked to the boy but she thought he was handsome and had a nice smile. Plus, she knew he was very popular because of his generosity and his easy laugh. Give Raja your hand in friendship, and Raja would give you his heart is what the people of Baavi would say. They were all eager to see the kind of man he’d grow up to be. They were all… Raahi looked up as Asifa stood in front of her. The woman was even more beautiful up close. Her big, almond shaped eyes twinkled with dark amber. Raahi didn’t usually like nose piercings, but on Asifa the diamond stone looked beautiful. 

“Found you.” Asifa said, in a quiet voice heard by all.

Raahi turned to each of her sides. There were only adults next to her. She looked back at Asifa and smiled nervously. “Who is it?”

Asifa laughed, her eyes shining like her nose stud. “You, daughter of Baavi! What is your name?”

Raahi responded in shock. “R-R-Raahi.”

“Raahi! Beautiful name.” Asifa held her hand out. “Come with me?”

With a push from the woman standing behind her, Raahi stumbled forward and clasped Asifa’s hand. She craned her neck back to the villagers as she was led to a tent waiting to the right of the stage. The villagers smiled encouragingly and waved her on. It didn’t do much to comfort her, but she listened to them instead of the anxiety gripping her heart. How could it be her? She was just Raahi! A mistake for sure. 

Once inside the tent, Asifa let go of Raahi and crossed the carpeted floor to a large, locked chest. “We came to Baavi in the spring, Raahi. How did we miss you?”

“I didn’t come to the show then.” Raahi murmured. It surprised her that she had even managed to talk. “Umm… Miss?”

“Yes?” Asifa held up a small red tassel cloak, looked at Raahi, shook her head, then returned the cloak to the chest. 

“I think…” Raahi swallowed. “I think you made a mistake. I can’t do magic.”

“Is that so?” Asifa smiled at Raahi before frowning at the yellow cloak in her hand. That too was tossed back into the chest. “How do you know?”

“I…” Raahi frowned. How did she know?

“Exactly.” Asifa said. “Trust me, little Raahi. Garuda’s blessing is in you and it is strong. With it you can dance your way to Heaven’s gates if you wished.”

Raahi’s family had lived in Baavi, and the surrounding area, for generations. They had been farmers, teachers, healers, and even chefs. Not one had magic, especially magic so rare as a Skydancer’s. That’s how she knew. If her family had someone with the blessing, she would have been told. “No one in my family is a Skydancer.”

“Genetics has nothing to do with it, though it does increase the chances.” 

Raahi frowned. She didn’t know that word. “Genetics?”

“It’s your body’s language.” Asifa said. “If you read it you can learn a great many things, including who you are related to. It will give you hints at what your children will look like. It will tell you why your eyes are large and pretty and why your skin is a beautiful brown and, even, why your heart beats fast and scared whenever something unexpected happens.” Asifa smiled. “Sometimes it will tell you that you have Garuda’s blessing. Sometimes it will not. Sometimes, no matter what genetics say,” Asifa paused to hold out a small version of the tassel cloak she was holding. “You are just blessed.”

Raahi reached out and took the cloak before she realized what she was doing. The blue cloak felt like air in her hands and it was just as light. “But my Ma… She will not let me.”

“My father and I will speak to your mother about you becoming my student.” Asifa looked like she didn’t care what Raahi’s mother had to say. Her disinterest was valid as it was mandated by law that magic be nurtured, no matter the wishes of the parent. “But that can come later. For now, we dance.”

“I don’t know how!”

“That won’t matter. I will guide you.”

Raahi wasn’t sure how Asifa was so easy going. The thought continued as she let Asifa help her change into the tassel cloak. It was still too big for her so it covered her to her shins. Regardless, she was given white leggings to wear. They too were soft and felt like air. If Raahi closed her eyes she could even convince herself she was in fact naked. The thought made her cheeks warm so she banished it from her mind. 

“You look beautiful, Raahi.” Asifa gently guided her to a floor length mirror. Once there, she undid Raahi’s twin tail braid, brushed it for a few moments, then began tying it into a single braid. Raahi just blushed in silence, averting her eyes from her reflection. Asifa saw this and laughed. “I used to be like you.”

Raahi didn’t believe her.

“You don’t believe me.”

Raahi’s eyes widened in shock. Could Skydancers read minds?

“I can’t read minds, Raahi.” Asifa laughed. “But I can read faces and children are the easiest of stories to read.”

“...Sorry.”

“For what, sweet Raahi?” Asifa asked. “For not believing me? Do not worry. If I were you, I would not believe me.”

A small hope began growing within Raahi’s heart and it warmed her. Her timidity had always bothered her and she hadn’t known how to change. Maybe Asifa would change that. Maybe one day she too could travel the world, performing magic and find children to teach. Maybe one day she would be free. 

“Now for the best part.” Asifa opened the chest once again and slid open a secret compartment. Inside it were a small pair of ankle bracelets. Mainly composed of leather, the numerous bells studding the binding were made of silver and twinkled from the simple act of being held. “These were mine when I first started learning. They are now yours.”

Amala could take one look at the ankle bracelets and tell you that selling them would feed their family for six months. And here Asifa was, just handing them away to a child she didn’t know. Raahi shook her head and put her hands behind her back, clasping them tightly.

“A Skydancer does not need these to dance.” Asifa knelt and began putting the ankle bracelets on Raahi. “Our magic is in our heart. Yet we must wear them.” She looked up at Raahi. “Do you know why?”

“No, miss.” Raahi was surprised. She had always thought Skydancers needed their ankle bracelets. Everyone thought that. 

“I have just told you a secret. You must keep it.” Asifa laughed, reading Raahi’s face once again. “We wear the bracelets because the sound it makes is similar to the sound deep within a Skydancer’s heart. It is a beautiful song you will learn to hear.” Asifa finished and stood, putting her hands on Raahi’s shoulders. “A beautiful song that all deserve to experience. So we wear the ankle bracelets. Salangai. That is their true name.”

“Salangai.” Raahi repeated.

“Correct.” Asifa smiled. “Are you ready?”

“No.” Raahi shook her head rapidly, her hair whipping from side to side. 

“You will be once you feel Garuda’s warmth.” Asifa took her back outside, holding the young girl’s hand. “When I reach out to you, hold my hand tight and do not let go. That is all you need to do, sweet Raahi, and my dance will take you.” She smiled. “Understand?”

Raahi had no choice but to nod. Before she knew it, they were on the stage and facing what felt like her entire village. In the forefront she saw her teacher. She was grinning and waving at her so Raahi returned the gesture with a shy wave of her own. She stopped when she saw who was standing next to her teacher. “Selvi?” She said, though her smiling sister didn’t hear. Raahi searched the crowd for another face, her second sister Shan. She couldn’t find her.

“Isn’t she beautiful?!” Rithik exclaimed, beaming down at Raahi. Seeing the girl’s nervousness, he kept a casual distance from her. “Come on, everyone. Give your daughter some applause!”

Raahi half hid behind Asifa when the wave of clapping struck her, but her anxious heart allowed her a small smile. It also permitted her to wave again, though her legs shook to the point of her knees knocking together. Asifa’s presence greatly helped. Without her, Raahi would have run all the way home by now. 

“We have made you wait long enough, dear Baavi.” Rithik said once the applause died down. At a gesture, musicians hurried to the stage and quickly set up. “Stand to the side for now, child. Asifa will come to you when it is time.”

Raahi nodded and retreated in relief that attention would be taken away from her for at least a few minutes. She settled in a back corner that Asifa had pointed her to, standing with one leg crossed in front of the other and her arms crossed. It was a position that made her feel safe and protected.

Asifa stood in front of Rithik, and the man shrank to a slight crouch so he was hidden behind her. As the veena player began and the flute’s sweet whistling met their ears, Asifa began the dance by extending her hands at a high angle. Her fingers were spread save for her index finger and thumb that were curved and touching. Rithik made the same move, though his arms were spread at a low angle. From the front, where the audience was, it would look as though Asifa had four arms. As the music increased in tempo and more instruments joined in, Asifa and Rithik alternated between various angles and different gestures, their thumbs going through each finger as if counting them. The effect was mesmerizing. Let enough of reality slip away, and Asifa and Rithik would become one dancing being. Their salangai didn’t make a single sound, such was their control of their feet. 

Then suddenly they began moving! Asifa twisting and spinning to the right while Rithik went to the left. The sound of bells finally came, resonating deep into Raahi. The Skydancers continued their complicated gestures and arm movements, adding to the story they were telling with their facial expressions. It was a dance of frustration, Raahi could tell. Rithik and Asifa’s faces were contorted into anguish, their wild dancing showing the true desire for their hearts to be free. Again and again the two would spread their hands to the sky or to the sides, begging Garuda to come and take them away. 

The song became discordant and Rithik fell, one arm twisted awkwardly. Raahi cried, understanding that Rithik’s desire for freedom had been granted cruelly with death. Asifa fell to her knees beside her partner, her hands and face telling the story of her sadness. The song slowed, slightly, and Asifa got up. With an ocean wave hand motion indicating the wiping away of tears, Asifa danced to Raahi. In a whirl of gestures, Asifa gripped Raahi. The young girl found herself spinning with Asifa. Around the stage they went. Around and around and around, the music getting faster and faster. Their salangai sang with constant ringing. Louder than them, Raahi could hear bells deep within herself. It was the saddest, most beautiful sound she had ever heard. A song that had waited so long for Raahi to hear. A song begging for the freedom to fly. A song meant for her first, and then for anyone with Garuda’s blessing. She looked at Asifa in shock, and the woman gave her a smile only she could see. 

Then they were flying. Raahi didn’t notice at first, too caught up in listening to her song. But when she felt a breeze glide through her scalp, Raahi shifted back to the outside world. The villagers exclaimed in awe as Raahi flew over them, her cloak flapping like wings. Just as intended. Asifa continued the story in the air, one hand gripping Raahi and the other going through the necessary gestures. Sometimes they flew horizontally, just a few feet above the villagers. Other times they shot straight up while spinning. Once, they even plummeted straight down towards the stage, only to veer back up at the last second. The point was made with that move, telling all that were watching that freedom had been achieved and even gravity couldn’t take it away. 

When they landed, Raahi’s rapidly beating heart joined her song. A wide smile took control of her face and she showed it to Asifa. “That was amazing!”

“You were amazing, Raahi. A natural.” Asifa said, taking Rithik’s hand as he appeared next to her. As a trio, they bowed to the thunderous applause. 

“Yes. A natural. A shame we did not find you last time we were here.” Rithik said. 

“RAAHI!” 

Raahi cringed and clung to Asifa. The song in her heart got louder, so loud she could scarcely hear anything else. She wanted to cover her ears to make it quiet but she knew it would be useless as it came from deep inside her. How had she been so deaf before? “Ma…”

“What have you done, stupid girl?” Amala spat, storming onto the stage. Selvi and Shan were behind her. Selvi smiled at her encouragingly. Shan’s expression was neutral. “I permitted you to come watch the dance. Not join them!”

“I would have you mind your tone.” Rithik stood in front of Asifa and Raahi. He seemed much larger than before. “We can talk in our tent. Quickly, now. My daughter and I still have more to perform.” At a gesture from him, the musicians moved to the center of the stage to perform for the audience while he and Asifa talked with Amala.

Inside the tent, Asifa brought out cushions for them to sit on. Raahi, without thinking, sat between Rithik and Asifa. Amala scowled at her. Seeing this, Asifa put her hand on Raahi’s leg and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Raahi is a Skydancer. You cannot deny this fact. You saw it for yourself.”

“I won’t allow it.” Amala crossed her arms, her glare not leaving Raahi. “I won’t allow her to spend time with the likes of you, corrupting her mind. I made a mistake by letting her come here.”

“And I made a mistake in thinking the people of Baavi were kind.” Rithik said coolly. “The likes of us? What do you take us for, woman?!” 

Amala wasn’t so dumb that she’d speak further and insult the Skydancers. But she hadn’t mastered control of her face. A face that both Asifa, Rithik, and even Raahi could read. That was enough. “As a Skydancer, Raahi will live a filled with prestige. Her comforts will be endless and no door will remain closed for her.” Asifa said. “Not even an eagle has that level of freedom.”

“A simple life will be enough for her.”

“We are speaking of Raahi, woman!” Rithik snapped. “Not you. Don’t drag your daughter down to your level just because the farthest your hands can reach are her ankles!”

Amala’s grimace turned into shock, as if she had just been slapped. To her left, Selvi covered a smile with her hand. Amala shook her head. “My husband…”

“Will have to agree as well.” Rithik said. “Has your close mindedness blinded you to the law? Even the smallest hint of magic must be nurtured. No matter the wishes of the child’s guardians. I can have officials here at a moment’s notice if you wish to argue further with me.”

“My husband isn’t in town!”

“It does not matter.” Rithik said. “Besides. It is not as though we will take Raahi with us.”

Amala could see that she wouldn’t be getting her way so she just glared at Raahi. The girl stared right back, shocking herself and her mother. “You will remain here?” Amala asked.

“I will continue travelling with my troupe. I have business to conduct and not all of it is performing.” Rithik turned to his daughter. “I will leave my treasure here with the people of Baavi. I still trust that they are kind, but I now know that even they have their exceptions. Or perhaps you are from Udum?”

“And where will your treasure live?” Amala knew she was grasping at straws. 

“We have a spare room!” Selvi exclaimed before grinning sheepishly at her mother’s glare. “...Sorry.”

“Then it is settled.” Asifa smiled, squeezing Raahi’s hand again. “I will pay for room and board while I teach Raahi. She has so much potential I feel as though she will become my teacher sooner than later.”

Amala didn’t return the smile and stood, dragging Selvi and Shan up with her. “Will that be all or will you be taking my other daughters as well?”

Rithik hardly spared them a glance. “As much as I would love to, neither of them have the potential.” He smiled at Selvi. “Though this one does warm my heart with her smile. What is your name, child?”

Amala huffed and began pulling Selvi and Shan away. While leaving the tent, Selvi turned back. “My name is Selvi!”

Rithik chuckled and stood. “Come, Asifa. We must dance some more. An encore at the end, even, should the audience wish it.”

“I will be right out, Papa.” Asifa said. Once he left, she hugged Raahi. “What do you think, Raahi? Are you excited?!”

“I don’t know what to think.” Raahi said truthfully. “But I am excited. I feel like I’m dreaming. I feel like I’m going to wake up at any second and you will be gone and I will just be a normal girl again.”

“You will not be waking up, sweet Raahi.” Asifa said. “But you have in fact entered a dream. A Skydancer’s dream!”

Deep within her, Raahi’s sad song began to change. It turned hopeful, an innocent ringing that suited a child as young as her. A ringing that proudly sang of freedom. Raahi’s lips stretched into a wide, toothy grin. “I’m free!”

-Saha

India Newsletter 6

20.6.19

Hi folks,

I previously mentioned, tea, milk and sugar are continually boiled together and served that way. Coffee, milk and sugar are also usually blended and served together and it is often difficult to get black coffee or coffee with added milk. it is more unthinkable to add cold milk to hot coffee! Absolutely unimaginable and inicomprehensible!

A sign I saw here said "Tea will solve nearly all problems." Tea shops are everywhere and men especially seem to use them, often standing up to consume the hot liquid, smoking and chatting.

I am told that there are 1000 castes in Hinduism each having a different emphasis or practice. Then there are 30,000 Gods but three main Gods - Braham, Vishu & Shiva. (Braham was the creator, Vishu takes one through life and Shiva is the destroyer). I was informed by an ardent Hindu that nine god's representing each planets in our solar system were given colours thousands of years ago. Today we see those colours when we view the planets through a telescope! Then temples also build thousands of years ago in different areas (countries around the world?) supposedly all are in alignment (line-up).

Red paint is often applied to one's forehead (between the eye brows) usually at the temple or for females a removable spot called a bindi is used. I have heard several explanations depending on one's beliefs or understanding of their use - one being good luck, another to prevent people influencing or mesmerising one, a spiritual significance or adornment. Different colourepd inks & patterns are used depending on the god one follows.

Some women also use the dye in their hairline to show they are married.

Many homes don't have an iron so one can take their clothes to a shop or a trolley in the street where a person has a heavy, old, nonelectric, iron which literally has a fire - wood or charcoal burning in the base. The man I saw wouldn't permit me to take a photo - obviously camera shy but managed a shot elsewhere.

I continue to be an interest and curiosity to many who obviously haven't seen a white, Westerner before or up-so-close. I am usually looked up & down, people tell others facing the other way to look around or after I have been noticed the observer will do a 180 degree turn & continue their interest. I can be pleased that I am helping continue people's education or offended!

In Delhi, two motor bikes collided. One was carrying a pillion as-well-as a big bag of flour and a carton of cooking oil. Yes you guessed it, a large quantity of flour ended up on the road. The young speeding motor cyclist was called and came back to the scene. After a short altercation, the seeming offender just rode off. The enterprising goods carrier tore a flap off the carton and used it to scoop-up the flour and return it to the bag. The street was far from hygienic! That could be the same ingredients in my next roti or japati! You would hope the cooking process would kill the germs!

Water & other pipes are often above ground or just below the surface making them susceptible to damage and breakage. If there is a leakage, nothing doesn't seems to be done about it.

Water trucks with tanks can be seen regularly delivering water to the home or business.

Litre bottles of water are permitted to be carried on aircrafts where-as we are only allowed 100 ml of liquid in Australia!

In spite of that, other Indian airport security is much stricter. Firstly one requires a ticket to be permitted into the terminus. Then there is the first bag/luggage machine scanner, then an airline second machine finally a more detailed, demanding immigration machine scanner and secutity wand over and body pat-down test.

Traditional Indian women dress is a sari accompanied with a brightly coloured, light, almost see through synthetic shawl which covers the hair & if there is an older male around then it is pulled and covers the face as a mark of respect. Women sit on the floor or in the street in their beautifully coloured garments.

A few men wear the traditional outfit which is usally a white cotton? piece of material wrapped around the waist and pulled up in-between the legs resembling jodphurs a bit. Others will wear a piece of coloured material also around the waist hanging down to the feet. However, as it it so hot (mid 40 ) the bottom of the wrap-around is lifted up and again tucked into the waist to make a mini skirt.

Many men today wear Western clothes but it is expected woman will dress traditionally! However, many younger females are not wearing the shawl and wearing a dress (a Susie Wong or a moo-moo style) with the splits up each side and coloured tights under that.

Expression of feelings and relationships are also changing. An Indian friend in his thirties, had an arranged marriage. He has been married about nine years and has a child a little less about eight. He has never said to his wife that he loves her or given her a hug or kiss in public. This too is slowly changing with the behaviour of young people.

In the rural community where I stayed for a few nights we slept out in the open under the stars, on bedframes with rope or webbing attached or pulled across covered with a thin padded blanket and rock hard pillow. Most places where I stayed, the mattresses & pillows were really hard obviously so as to toughen one-up.

There are no windows because glass is costly so each room has an opening quite high up but was covered with metal preventing much needed light to enter. Therefore an electric light was needed all the time the room was used. Wooden shutters could have been s substitution to allow light and fresh air to penetrate and circulate.

Showers there were in public so one always bathed wearing their under-clothes. Even families do the same I'm told. A curtain was later added for me I take it or maybe to prevent them from having to see me!

Meals we eaten sitting cross-legged on the floor which becomes more difficult with age especially if one isn't used to doing so.

As I'm sure I mentioned, often at a home or at a meal, there is a dirth of uncooked fruit and vegetables.

I was introduced to Chaats which are an extremely popular snack throughout India. I had seen them made before and thought I wouldn't touch (eat) them. They are made of dough or thin, see-through batter in an oval shape and split open. It is filled with chutneys, tangy spices, onion, chilli (of course!) potato, chick peas etc together with a bowl of cold gravy. Every part of the order is man- handled with gives the term "food handling" a whole new meaning! The vendor will pick-up the chaat, dip it into a sauce, fill it will ingredients and serve about six on a side plate with the bowl of gravy. Purchasers keep returning for plates to be refilled. About 18 of these would cost a little over a dollar.

Henna paint is used by both men and women but more often females.

I was in a place called Chennai in the state of Tamil Nadu, which is in S.E India on the coast. It has the widest and longest beach I have seen and the locals claim it is the longest worldwide.

Between the shore and water's edge, it is quite steep. Many, especially male teenagers and young men will remove their shirt or strip to the under wear and rush to the water's edge where they will revel in the experience. Some teenagers will hold hands and in a line, walk into the surf until the waves overtake them. Then the waves will return then to shore. They are so excited running along the shore, running into the water, diving over the shallow waves, twisting, throwing sand. No one swims or goes out further than they can stand usually to their wastes at the maximum. Most playing is on the edge. Even clothed families standing in the shallows don't mind getting wet! It all seems to be an unknown, unpredictable, exciting event holding each other or hiding behind someone! Cute to watch!

At night the beach comes alive with mechanical circus rides, fairy floss, food & drink stalls, horse riding, Zodiac card readers using parrots or hamsters to turn cards over for the one seeking their destiny disclosed etc Around nine pm or later all entertainment & food sales cease on the beach. If one remains at the water's edge too late, like 11:30, police will ask one to leave. Even though there are enormous spot lights similar to sporting grounds illuminating the beach they don't quite fully brighten the water's edge. Maybe 50-100 people spend the night sleeping on the beach, enjoying the cool night breeze in spite of the lights. However, others choose to sleep on the roads, footpaths, in carts anywhere even in the gutter at times.

A sign showing Christ and his sacred heart, a mosque & a Hindu god with writing in the local Hindu Nadii language was displayed in many places. When asked for a translation, I was told it was "Godmun" ? meaning no matter if one is Christian, Muslim or Hindu, one must not urinate in the street. However, this is not obeyed.

I saw a T shirt today stating "Disobey the Rules!" We don't need to be encouraged to do that do we? We are rebellious at best and at heart.

Well that's it for now.

Kind regards,

Russ