#all the while Claudia gives him nothing but understanding and time; pleads with him to run away together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

victoria-daydreams · 3 years

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

AN: This is a continuation of the last chapter, so it’s still gonna be dark, but if I remember correctly this should be last chapter that’s like this.

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: physical/mental abuse, torture

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

"I can't do this," I breathed, before turning to Charles, shaking my head. "I can't do this," I repeated, putting my hand to my mouth as I backed away from the two men next to me. "I-I n-need to get out of here!" I exclaimed, clenching my eyes shut in an attempt to remove myself to escape the memories I've buried for so long.

I began to feel hot and dizzy. I felt like there were walls closing in on me and I had no escape.

"Calm your mind, Claudia," Charles advised gently, but I only felt the hammering of my heart in my chest intensify. "Claudia, look at me, you need to calm down. Claudia!" Charles grabbed my arms, yanking me from my own head and my eyes snapped opened. I began to hyperventilate, eyes focusing on everything and nothing as the telepath took my face in his hands and forced me to concentrate on him. "Claudia, you need to calm down or you're going to split your mind in two," he explained, his face twisting in pain. "Your mind is screaming so loud you're hurting me," Charles said through gritted teeth.

"Make it stop," I begged, searching his eyes. "Please, make it stop," I whispered, grabbing his hands and placing them at my temples.

Charles looked at me, his eyes wide and sympathetic, "Love, I've tried and nothing has worked. I push any harder and the results might be disastrous for the both of us," he explained, his hands drawing back to his own temples. "It's almost like your mind wants you to work through these unpleasant memories, because it's something that needs to be done," Charles' soft voice whispered in my ear.

"I don't want to remember," I gritted out, trying to stop the panic from rising in my chest even further. "Just make it stop," I whispered.

"It's okay," Charles coaxed. "You're going to be okay," he assured, gently grabbing both of my hands. "You just need to calm down,"

I ripped my hand out of his, focusing on something calm. What was calm?

"You don't know. You don't know what he made me do! You don't know what a sick bastard he was. I do," I breathed, my chest heaving.

Erik and Charles stared at me sympathetically and as a drop of water fell from my chin I realized why. I'd been crying. Angrily wiping my face with my hand, a frown formed on my face as the three of us were thrown into another memory. We were in a foyer of a house. I found myself turning my head from left to right multiple times, my breathing heavy and labored. Most people would love to have a house as big as this one, with the supposed openness and modern facilities that are pleasing to the eye. Yes, I can see that, but with the merciless and cruel encounters I have had here, I don't share the same opinions as the majority.

Truly, it was a nice space...one of which many would be proud of claiming ownership of, at least that of which I have actually seen. The floors were made of beautiful, stained wood and the walls painted a lovely crimson give an aristocratic aura to the house. At least, apart from the basement corridors that I know by heart. Those claustrophobic walls were a miserable gray and were accompanied by the dulled and creaky russet floor.

Two sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway moving away from us, unconsciously I began to follow behind them until I was standing on the backyard stoop. The light from the sun was shining brightly and it was almost an enchanting light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky that could block it's majestic rays. And there stood Professor Lewis and myself in the middle of his backyard.

"Claudia, I want you to use your telekinesis to lift each of the objects on the ground," Professor Lewis pointed to a tennis ball, baseball, basket ball, brick, and cinder block. The object grew larger and heavier. "Once you lift them, I want you to psychically push them into those baskets ten feet away. This will help you learn how to levitate and also toss objects of varying weight. It will also help you regulate how much power you need to lift certain weights,"

"I understand," she answered calmly, nodding her head as a smile appeared on her lips.

But she was anything but calm and enthusiastic. She was going into this kicking and screaming. She was nervous. Jumpy. Stressed. Frustrated. Lost. Found. Happy. Sad. She wanted to vomit. Her mutation was unpredictable and uncontrollable. That wasn't until a pair of hands placed themselves on her waist from behind her, almost grounding her in a way. Professor Lewis leaned down to her ear and whispered something that made the two of them laugh, and just before he released her waist Professor Lewis pressed his lips to her cheek.

"You'll do fine," he murmured.

I could feel the burning stares of Charles and Erik on the back of my head.

"He really played me like a fool," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief at my younger self's stupidity and naivety.

"You two were together," Charles stated gently. "You were a couple," he added, his voice never taking an accusatory tone.

A humorless chuckled escaped from me, "And I have wanted to throw myself in front of a bus because of it," I confirmed, looking down at the ground biting my lip

Feelings of sickness, disgust, and shame spread throughout body as I remembered how readily I ate up his little praises. He gave me all the validation that I so desperately wanted as a child from my own parents. It wasn't long before his seemingly innocent compliments turned into something more; the lingering stares and touches to the kisses on my hand or forehead. And I foolishly allowed his affectionate gestures to escalate, thinking that I was in love with this man. So, when Professor Lewis declaration of love for me came out during a candlelit dinner I was so overcome with emotion from his "tenderness" that on the same night, I gave myself to him, willingly.

And that's when he had me ensnared, ensnared into his web of lies.

I was young and dumb and couldn't see the clear manipulation and grooming that was going on. No, I was too busy being a lovesick fool. He promised me that he would never, ever let harm come to me while I was with him, and I believed him. But everything he promised me was a dirty, filthy lie. I remembered.

I remembered every fucking thing he did to me.

"Did you love him?" Erik asked.

"Yes," I answered softly, turning around to face Charles and Erik. "But I had learnt very quickly that his love for me was all a facade," I recalled.

Just remembering that I had consensually slept with Professor Lewis made want to puke. I watched as Professor Lewis' backyard and everything around it seemingly disintegrated before us only for our surroundings to change into a small library. We were still on Professor Lewis' property, but it was a different time, a different date. If my memory serves me correctly then this is when I began to realize Professor Lewis was not the sweet, loving man I thought he was.

"You would be...in my mind?" Professor Lewis could see that she was wrestling with her own doubt and he was worried that her fear would get in the way of their training. At last, he saw Claudia nod in agreement, but her features were tightened in anxiety.

"Relax,"

Her expression was anything but calm, and he decided that it couldn't be helped. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pressed two fingers to his temple and pushed forward into her mind. Claudia knew the second Professor Lewis' mind merged with her own. The moment it happened, she was overwhelmed with such a sense of fear that it was difficult for her to think about anything else. She could feel him in her thoughts, and the foreign presence had such a sense of wrong to it that she gagged in disgust. It wasn't right. Her mind was her own.

"No!"

Claudia abruptly and backed away from her mentor, nearly tripping over the foot rest that sat behind her. Claudia wasn't sure whether her words were spoken aloud or inside her head, but the minute they were said she felt Professor Lewis withdraw.

"I can't do this," she couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to look and see what surely would have been disappointment.

Perhaps he was angry with her for not following through. Before he had a chance to say anything to her, Claudia turned and fled from the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. But Claudia could still feel the lightest touch of Professor Lewis' emotions. And a sudden wave of anger bombarded her mind from the other side of the wall, making her gasp as one thought crossed her mind.

"There would be hell to pay for that," I stated, repeating the thought I had.

"Stand up!"

The sharp words made us all turn around, only for us to witness another memory of mine. We were standing in a small study, I watched as my twenty year-old self tried to force her body to cooperate.

She could feel the security guard's irritation before his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled and nearly fell again, when hands caught her.

"Now, now, be nice. She's just a girl," the words were kind, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It was Professor Lewis. He always had kind words for her, but his emotions didn't match up. She swallowed hard and moved away from him. The guard left them alone, like they normally did. "Now, Claudia, are you feeling better than yesterday? Will you use your powers again?" It was the question he asked every day.

She stared at him, tears swimming in her eyes, "Please, please let me go. I've done all your tests, you can keep the money. Please, just let me go!" she pleaded, tensing herself as his disappointment that barely covered rage washed over her. "Ah, Claudia, you disappoint me. What would your parents think of you, a college dropout?" he just sighed and rang his bell.

She closed her eyes as sobs wracked her body. Two security guards grabbed her roughly from the room, ignoring her squeak of pain as they gripped places where the shackles had dug into her skin and made marks.

"Take her to the lab,"Professor Lewis ordered, as she was dragged away.

I unconsciously rubbed my wrist and traced my the scars on my wrist, I turned away and stared at Erik and saw his jaw clench as Professor Lewis walked out his office, I looked over and watch Charles' horrified expression. Time seemed to speed up as if someone hit the fast-forward button. Now we were in the lab.

As my younger self came to consciousness, she barely had time to regain her senses before all she could think about was the intense, sweltering heat that slowly seemed to be eating her alive like some ravenous animal that had no control over it's appetite. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, bringing silent screams up her throat though she couldn't set them free due to the fact that her body refused to allow her control because of the drugs swimming around in her system.

Throat running dry from constricted sobs and body aching from the endless thrashing against her restraints, she laid on a metal laboratory table. Feeling the ever rising panic claw at the edge of her psyche, she made another attempt to get of the table and get out, as far away as she could, but the minuscule motion caused fire to spread in her muscles, and breathing came even harder.

Broken ribs.

Forcing herself to move, she brought a hand gently to her face, feeling dried blood there, from a gash near her hairline. Her shirt was also stiff with dried blood, caused by the blood that trickled out her nose. Moving to her abdomen, she felt the tender bruise that had been caused the last time she fought, and staring at her hands, she saw black and blue bruises mixed with dry blood.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us," an oily voice announced. "Hey Robert, the girl's awake,"

Turning her head, she saw the raven haired man known as David. Glancing at her with piercing grey eyes, he leered at her in a manner that made her feel dirty, effectively putting her on her guard, her focus sharp, despite the headache that was making her dizzy.

"Leave her alone, David," the other man named Robert commented. "Professor Lewis will kill you if you hurt her," he added, not looking up from his clipboard.

"I'm not going to hurt her," David sneered, inching closer, reaching out and touching her face. She flinched. "I just want to have some fun with her, that's all,"

"Your idea of fun won't be hers, David," the other man spat. "Go. Tell Professor Lewis she's awake," he ordered.

With a growl at being ordered around, the other male left angrily.

Our surroundings shifted again.

"So, you would abandon me, your fellow mutant, for a race that will try to destroy you?" Professor Lewis said menacingly, looking down at the girl before him. "You disappointed me again Claudia. I thought you were better, wiser. To think that I've given you everything since we met. A second home, education, training, and this is how you thank me. By disobeying me. Your parents would have been ashamed of you"

"B-Bringing up my parents doesn't work anymore, Professor Lewis," she stammered, mentally kicking herself for not being able to sound confident and strong. Every time she and Professor Lewis had an argument her voice would turn shaky, making him assume she was afraid of him.

And she was but her anger had the upper hand.

"That sounded very convincing," Professor Lewis snickered. "Claudia you care so much about humans, but have you forgotten that you have made humans beg for their death countless times?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Claudia glared at Professor Lewis, he wore a mocking smile on his face, "You made me do that Professor. I would never have used my power in that manner if it weren't for your teaching methods," she remarked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You wouldn't have any power if it weren't for my teaching methods, Claudia,"

"Well maybe I would have preferred it that way, Professor," she retorted.

Professor Lewis' eyes narrowed, "I think we're done for now, we'll talk again tomorrow," He turned around and walked towards a liquor cupboard to get himself some nice scotch. "I'll tell that nice gentlemen, David, to escort you to your room," the amusement was clearly audible in his voice.

He knew Claudia hated David with every fiber of her being.

I watched as the memory faded to black, just like a movie I would see at the theater. This is what all this felt like, one long movie about my life. Then everything around us turned bright as a golden dust rippled in front of us horizontally in a tidal wave fashion until they both clashed at one another, meeting at the center.

Professor Lewis and Claudia were on the rooftop of one the many university buildings, leaning against the ledge as they overlooked the rather empty campus. Night had fallen and the moon had risen above the quiet campus grounds.

Oh God, not this night. This was the night that I knew there was a darkness within me, maybe it was always there, but lying dormant, or maybe Professor Lewis planted the seeds for it to grow within me. It was one year since I'd met him and with his training I had quickly learned to control my empathy and telekinesis, and found it necessary to teach myself how to build mental shields to block out Professor Lewis if I wanted to stay sane.

"You know what today marks Claudia?" Professor Lewis asked, looking over at her.

"I do not," Claudia answered, shaking her head. "Please enlighten me," she said, as the warm night air ruffled her hair.

Professor Lewis lifted his hand and brushed stands of hair from her face, "Today, is the one year anniversary of me being the luckiest man by meeting the most lovely and powerful creature on this planet," he proclaimed, running his thumb down her cheek.

A gloom yellow light glinted over the two, so Professor Lewis could maintain eye contact with the woman in front of him. A delicate smile splayed on her lips, as her brown eyes hold onto his.

"You sure know how to make a woman feel special," she snorted, turning her body to face him.

He turned his body as well, "My methods have made you stronger have they not?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Yes," Claudia answered stiffly.

Professor Lewis grinned at her, "Then that's all that matters," he agreed, as he placed his hands on Claudia's hips pulling her closer. "As a matter of fact, why don't you show me how far you've come since being under my tutelage," he suggested, still smiling at her.

"Fine," Claudia agreed mirroring his smile. "But, only because you're cute," she added, a wicked smirk now forming on her lips.

"Atta girl," he cheered, placing a quick kiss to her lips.

Claudia smiled, and while still looking right at him, she moved her fingers. Wisps of purple aura slowly slithered upwards Professor Lewis' body and his eyes widened as he watched the energy spread all around him. Professor Lewis couldn't move. He had forced her to use this side of her mutation over and over again to make it stronger and now it was used against him.

"Claudia, what are you doing?" Professor Lewis asked, and for the first time she seen an emotion that he never expressed.

Fear.

"I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago," she answered, lifting her hand up and drifting Professor Lewis from the safety of the rooftop to dangling him over the ledge of the building.

"Please dear, let's be reasonable," Professor Lewis pleaded, sounding slightly shaky.

"No," Claudia answered simply, her smirk only widened as she read his emotions like an open book, confusion, fear, desperation. "You never offered me the same courtesy," she reminded, a humorless chuckle escaping her body.

"You kill me then what Claudia? You were nothing without me! You were nothing but a scared girl!" he snarled.

"I think I will manage without you just fine," She assured, flashing him a faux smile. "It's like said you earlier, under your tutelage I have grown stronger," she repeated mockingly, before releasing her hold on him.

I watched as Professor Lewis dropped from our sights. There was an abrupt scream of terror from Professor Lewis before it was cut off as his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. My younger self causally strolled to the ledge and peered and we followed behind her. The sight was a grim a one.

Professor Lewis was surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, his limbs bent in unnatural ways.

"My God," Charles commented, his face ashen.

Laughter bubbled out of my younger self, and we turned to look at her, her shoulders shook with laughter.

"Goodbye Harry," Claudia said coldly and she walked away.

Turning her back against her teacher and her fellow mutant.

An earsplitting scream of horror reverberated the air, but not once did that seem to bother her, she continued walking and with a flip of her hair she slipped back into the building.

"I've never felt so exposed except with my time with Professor Lewis. What will they think of me now? Will they think I'm a monster? Will they-" I thought, and my breath quickened.

The world around us becomes clear once more and we're back in the library I collapsed, hyperventilating, gasping for air. I turned to my friends and I can't tell if their faces are those of pity or disgust. I pulled myself up, stumbling everywhere, and run as fast as I can away from them.

~~~x~~~

I could sense from Charles' emotions that he had approached my closed door, and waited outside for several minutes, until he tapped softly on the door, calling out gently.

"Claudia, are you in there? It's Charles,"

When he was met with no response, I could hear Charles tightened his grip on the doorknob.

"Claudia, I'm going to come in now. If you wish to be alone, please indicate so and I will leave immediately," Charles' statement was met with nothing but silence once again, so he turned the handle of the door, opening it slowly.

When the door had been opened, my back was facing him as I stared out the window blankly, tears flowing freely down my face. Charles stood in the entryway, before closing the door behind him. Stepping forward uncertainly and receiving no reaction at all from me, Charles walked across the room towards window I was facing, covering the area in several long strides. He knelt on his knees next to the bed so that he was looking directly at me.

I could tell Charles was unsure of what to say, so I broke the silence first, "You know I got away with the murders?" I asked raspily, finally looking at Charles.

Charles' furrowed his brow, "What?" he asked bewildered.

"Confusion is a funny thing, especially if you have the power to manipulate it. John was so very confused, he didn't know I was a mutant. So I exploited his confusion and I convinced John that it was a murder-suicide, James was friends with those boys at one point, but stopped hanging out with them once he met me. I told John that's the reason they killed him, and then I lied about one of the boys being the ‘freak’ and that he killed the trio out of bloodlust after killing James, shortly killing himself out of guilt," I explained, scooting over and patting the bed so Charles could sit on my bed.

Charles stood up and gently sat on my bed and reached out, softly wiping the tear streaks from my face with the pad of his thumb.

"Claudia, love, I'm so sorry-I-" Charles started.

"You didn't know?" I finished, raising my eyebrow expectantly. "Well, now you why I don't like people in my head," I stated, letting out a sigh. "I can't begin to describe to you the horror that comes with knowing that your mind isn't as safe as you think it is," I commented, briefly closing my eyes.

"I just never would have guessed these things happened to you, when we first met, you were so carefree," Charles explained, his hand now moving to my hair and stroking it.

"What did you want Charles? A big flashing sign, saying 'I've had a traumatizing life'," I retorted, tilting my head slightly. "Charles, there aren't many people who care about the plight of a colored woman in America, what makes you think they would sympathize with a black woman who's also a mutant?" I questioned, dropping my gaze to my hand. "I swallowed a bitter pill by coming to the realization that no one will truly care about me," I finished, looking back up at Charles.

"You're wrong," he corrected, he spoke gently, never breaking his gaze away from mine. "I care about you, and so does everyone in the mansion," Charles insisted.

He started rubbing soothing patterns on the back my hand with his thumb, Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles just as someone knocked twice before entering. The now familiar undercurrent of anger told me it was Erik. But I didn't want to move my hand from Charles', the warmth, the comfort, and affection wrapping themselves around me were too blissful to bring to an end. I turned my head to look at Erik, slipping my hand from Charles', I shifted from me laying on my side to pushing myself up to leaning the headboard.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked gently.

"I've been better," I answered, as Erik took a seat at the foot of my bed. It was silence between the three of us and I stared down at my hands, suppressing the urge to raise a hand to my lips and bite my thumb. "It's like you said Charles..." I stated, trailing off and the two of them looked at each other confusion.

"What?" Charles asked confused.

"The night you two recruited me," I began, looking between the two men. "You said, 'There is danger within me,'" I recited, looking at Charles and his eyes widened.

"Claudia I-" he started.

"I'm not mad Charles," I interrupted, shaking my head. "You're right. I've hurt people," I admitted, my mouth forming a thin line.

"We understand," Charles assured me, his kind eyes staring into mine.

My lips quirked into a small smile before I cleared my throat, "There is something that I should tell you two," I stated.

"And what would that be?" Erik asked curiously.

"When I killed those boys when I was younger, I should've been upset, but it was cathartic. I enjoyed it," I answered truthfully, my eyes shifting between them to gauge their reactions.

"They had just murdered your boyfriend in front of you, it's understandable Claudia," Erik justified.

"No, Erik, a normal person would swear to never use their powers in such a way again. But not me, I rather liked the idea of being able to control people. And when Professor Lewis-" I started.

"When he abducted you?" Erik asked motionlessly, cutting me off. "He used you, tortured you?"

"No Erik, I agreed to go with him. And that's a mistake I will always regret. He was one of us," I explained softly. "I thought I could trust him," I added, shaking my head.

"He was a telepath, like me," Charles stated looking over at me.

My voice and body and emotions becoming detached as I nodded, "He took it slow, got me to trust him, to love him. That's when he started the tests on my abilities. His favorite way was through illusions. In one instance, I was trapped in one of his illusions, thinking I was having the best night of my life with some handsome stranger after escaping from him, when I was really kissing one his lab assistants. The only reason the illusion, broke was because of the lab assistant lied, and I know when someone is lying to me. He strengthened my powers," I paused, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "It was brilliant, really," I finished, shaking my head side to side.

"It was a vile, manipulative, twisted, sick endeavor!" Erik spat. "He turned on his own kind!"

"His own kind," I repeated bitterly. "No. He wasn't one of us. A mutant, yes. But not one of us," I forced a smile, nudging him with my foot. "We're the good guys, Erik. Like Captain America, but cooler," I quipped.

Erik rolled his eyes, looking at me with a sort of spark I had never seen before.

"I have to ask," Charles started, breaking my concentration from Erik. "Was there ever an investigation?" Charles asked.

"Yes, it was a brief one, but it was ruled a suicide," I explained, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I hope you two don't think I'm a monster now," I sighed.

"Of course not," Charles stated sincerely, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

There was a knock at my door before it opened revealing Raven's petite figure. She looked at the two men who were sitting on my bed, and I felt a wave jealousy wash over me, which confused me.

"If you're not occupied, Charles, can we talk in private?" Raven asked, I didn't miss the emphasis on the word occupied.

"I wonder what's gotten into her now?" I thought.

Charles slowly let go of my hand, "Of course, Raven. We were just finishing our conversation," he answered, as he stood up and walked across the room to reach Raven. "Good night Claudia," Charles said, a smile on his lips.

"Night Charles," I responded, and Raven and Charles left my room.

It was just Erik and I now, "Now you know where the crack is in my perfect exterior, Erik," I stated,

Erik climbed further onto my bed till he was sitting next to me and gazed at me, "That's one enormous crack," Erik replied, repeating the same words I said to him. "But it only made you stronger," he continued, lifting his finger and gently trailing it down my cheek, the gesture sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps raised on my arms.

My eyes went straight for his inner forearm and the figures that had been inked into his skin, 214782. Numbers that had reduced an entire people into nothing but cattle. But markings. It was disturbing, and my hand reached out to touch his flesh in an attempt to stop my mind from racing. My fingers brushed his skin and he immediately grabbed my hand, his long, elegant fingers enclosing mine.

"Does it ever go away?" I asked somewhat rhetorically, motioning to his reaction.

Erik didn't answer.

"The pain, the distrust, the memories- I guess it never does, does it? Maybe it gets easier," I continued, pondering morosely. "Maybe it's the prospect of revenge that makes it so," I turned to him, motioning my head to the numbers engraved upon his skin. "Does it still hurt?" I asked softly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Every fucking day," Erik uttered, looking at the numbers and then shifting his gaze on me.

"Our resilience through all the pain we've been through, it's amazing we survived..." I trailed off, rubbing my thumb softly across his knuckles and then looked up at Erik. "Most people wouldn't have been able to,"

Erik smiled at me brilliantly, "Well, we aren't most people are we?" Erik questioned. "We're the future of the human race, Claudia," Erik finished, lifted our entwined hands and placed his lips on my knuckles leaving a lingering kiss.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gently placed a kiss on Erik's stubble covered cheek, "Thank you, Erik, for being here tonight,"

Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #black!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #x men fanfiction

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 4 years

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May i request a hc or fic of Liora, Zhora and Vivienne finding out that their girlfriend has been psychologically/emotionally abused by their parents.

VIVIENNE WARNINGS APPLY: Mentions of Homophobia, external and internalized Mentions of Strict/Bullying parents. Mention of Conversion Camp - Drugging, Negative association therapy, IMPLIED forced masturbation, illness and cane usage. Mention of controlling, forceful, cheating partner. Self Blaming. Spoilers for route. A writer trying a hand at serious Angst. WRITTEN BY @evoedBD +++++++++++++

How many times could she do this? How many times would she dash herself upon the rocks and drive Silvana to raise the shield between them? How many times would her own actions lead to that one-word spilling from gorgeous lips?

“Red.”

The word was safety. A shield. An absolute. It was the uncrossable line, a barrier reinforced by projected personas and deadly kisses. It was woven into a portrait of femininity, as delicate and deadly as any nightshade. It was warmth from the cold, comfort from leering eyes that aimed to feast just below the hemline of short black dresses, or dip beneath the shadowy garbs of lace. Now, safety was turned against her. Such a simple word suddenly tore at her heart, became the blood staining her hands as she attempted to understand how she had plunged the knife into the loving artist’s heart. Was this the price she had to pay to keep any form of happiness? Was she to continue to devastate those she cared for most just to feel a slither of comfort?

There was nothing she could do but freeze. She was rendered helpless in the face of Silvana’s tears; a net trying to hold the tide at bay. Silvana’s tears did not come with violent sobs and reaction, that was perhaps what was most terrifying of all. Silvana’s tears were fat, plummeting from her eyes, down her cheeks and off the point of her chin to mix with the paints laid out before her. They were so silent, so defeated that Vivienne felt as if she were struck. Vivienne trembled so violently long legs could no longer hold her. She dropped her rump to the floor, sliding down the wall until her knees were tucked protectively against her chest. Crushing her breast to her heart, as if the pressure could stop sorrow flooding her veins with every steady beat. Silently, she waited, watching Silvana simply mix the paints. Mix, and mix, and mix… lost in the simple action, as if her mind was elsewhere. The glaze to her chocolate eyes was not that glaze of looking into a world only she could see, was not the fogginess of an artist bringing a vision to life. This was darker, enough to shadow the vibrance usually seen across Silvana’s face.

“I was 14.” Silvana finally broke the silence. Vivienne lifted her head, body instantly on alert, ready to leap into the fray to battle off the demons haunting Silvana… except, she couldn’t. Memories had no physical form, nor consciousness to battle. To fight them would be to lay hands on Silvana; to play cruel mind games with Silvana. That was not something Vivienne was prepared to do, not again.

“I’m Cuban American, you know this.”

Vivienne could only nod. Of course she knew this, the information had not been difficult for a world class thieving gang to acquire when scouting for their forgery artist.

“Dad was born in the states, so he was a little less strict, but my family is religious. Highly religious. Old school, even. I was 14 when I made the mistake of talking about this girl I’d seen. I didn’t know I was bisexual then, or why I was so drawn to her, only that she was beautiful and funny, and her laugh made my stomach flutter and I couldn’t get her off my mind. My parents wanted to help, they were scared I would go to hell, that the Devil had me. My uncle and the pastors convinced them I was beyond prayer. That only the most faithful could save me… so my parents sent me to conversion camp.” Silvana stopped, lips quivering, breath laboured. She closed her eyes against the flood of memories, taking a deep breath to centre herself.

“Sil-” Vivienne never even got to finish that name before said woman cut her off.

“Vivi. Please. If you talk…” Silvana’s voice broke. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“I need to just get through this.” The artist pleaded; it was not the type of begging Vivienne would ever wish to hear fall from her lips. The seductress was once more robbed of her words when she gazed at Silvana’s face. The light was gone, as if trapped behind glistening layers of frosted glass which dulled chocolate eyes. Full lips fell into a frown, burdened by the weight of everything Silvana needed to say. It was enough to slice through Vivienne’s thick skin, to pierce her heart. At Vivienne’s meek nod, Silvana took another deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to reveal.

“Camp was… they drugged me. They deliberately made me ill as they showed me… or they forced me to… sin. Sin until I was sick. If I didn’t, the Nuns had canes and…” Silvana swallowed, shaking her head violently, as if she could dislodge the nightmares. Vivienne was almost sick. A hiccup of a sob escaped her. Her hand flew up to her mouth, covering her horrified expressions and stifling the wounded sounds about to escape on Silvana’s behalf. If only that was all Silvana had to say, all she’d endured. Unfortunately, Vivienne could already see, already knew that it was the iceberg in an ocean of abuse in the name of therapy.

“I can’t…” Silvana’s whisper was bittersweet. Selfishly, Vivienne was thankful. She hadn’t used her most waterproof makeup, and anymore was bound to turn her into a blubbering mess. Or a vengeful demon upon the church. The world was not ready for the vengeance she could plan, even without laying a finger on a single soul. Even if she had to charm and seduce every Priest, every Nun and even the Saints themselves. She would have them crooning their sins as ballads, confessing how many victims there were of their crimes… and if they did not? The Poppy had the power to make those crimes a reality, and to seize their treasures while they were at it.

“Once I got home, my parents kept treating me as if I was sick. If I mentioned any girls, Mom would make me spend hours praying to a painting of Jesus. Dad just… he blamed himself. Thought that all the stories he taught me to love took me from God. Everybody at school and Church knew. Lots of them made jokes about it all the time. I was so scared and disgusted and confused, but I couldn’t ask anybody for help. I couldn’t trust them. I prayed. Every day I prayed so hard for those feelings to go away. To not look at some women and… want them in the way I wanted some men. I kept looking for guys, the type of guys a good Godly woman should want, but there weren’t any. Until I got a summer job with one of my father’s friends, working with his son. We were both adults, but he was older and had a very, well, “strong” personality.” Silvana’s tone left little to the imagination. Vivienne, for all her twenty-six years of emotional and physical conditioning, couldn’t resist flinching. She didn’t want to hear it, hear what she already had her suspicions had happened. She knew Silvana had faced mistreatment, the artist had confessed as much after doubting Vivienne, arguing in the streets of Saint Petersburg. She’d confessed to small things which had damaged her trust, and those little things were enough for Vivienne to see red all over again. The Seductress bristled, pressing her back to the wall as she braved the storm Silvana was unleashing. It was better this way, that Silvana was not alone in the floods anymore. They were family, and Vivienne was all too willing to cast aside the sickly feeling in her gut to give Silvana a moment of peace.

“He saw how I looked at some of the boys my age, and some of the girls too. He was the first person aside form Claudia who wasn’t mean about it. He was really charming and kind, a little controlling, but it wasn’t like what I’d seen on TV. I didn’t realise it was so bad. He’d bring me flowers and wear this dapper suit to Sunday mass. He supported my arts, even would buy me these lovely paints. But it was always his way, you know? Every time he wanted something, we did it. I was too scared to ask for help, so it went unchecked. It just kept escalating. At first it was little things, like letting him pay or going where he wanted to on dates. Then it was what he wanted to eat, or the dress he wanted me to wear. Then it was he wanted me to… service him. Eventually, he wanted full blown sex. I kept saying I wasn’t ready, and he didn’t force me, but he kept trying to convince me. Kept pushing, until it was easier just to agree than come up with reasons not to. He wasn’t mean or rough, just pushy. I told my parents, but they wouldn’t listen to me. The devil had touched me, and I had to pray it away. His dad was so respected in the Church, he was too, and it wasn’t like he forced me, right? He just made some comments and I just caved. Whatever he wanted. He kept me on my knees like a good little girl, like a nun for God he used to say… until my mother caught us. Then I was tempting him, I was threatening to expose him if he didn’t do it. He was already going to marry me, so he agreed to fooling around out of wedlock to save me from the Devil.”

“He sounds positively charming.” Vivienne commented dryly. Her face contorted into a vicious frown, eyes almost firing lasers in her outrage on Silvana’s behalf.

“Yeah, well, not two weeks after we left for college, he was sleeping with other girls. He thanked me for being such a good girl for him, for getting him out of his home and taking the heat for him. Turns out, he had a flock of eager girls. They all kept quiet because they saw how the Church cast me out. I was just a scapegoat and a means to an end. I was easy.” The Cuban artist shrugged her shoulders, as if she could deflect her pain like water off a duck’s feathers. She couldn’t conceal how her lips shivered, parting around painful breaths she tried to keep silent. The flowing floral dress didn’t conceal how her sides heaved, nor how her shoulders caved. Accepting. Defeated. It was not a look Vivienne ever wanted to see again.

“Silvana. What he did was unacceptable.” There was nothing else Vivienne could say. She longed to. In every language she knew, she longed to cuss and spit until her voice left her and her throat was raw. Until she tasted blood for everything Silvana had endured. Perhaps she could ask Zoe to find this man, then pay him a visit. Be the worldly seductress of his dreams, only to cast him into deathly nightmares with her poisoned kiss. Members of the Poppy had built immunity to her poisons, to her charms and games, but the one who had hurt Silvana? Vivienne knew his type. He would be easy. Effortless.

“I didn’t know how to say no back then. I had so much catching up to do once I got away from the strict religious family. My first girlfriend dumped me after a few months. The Art Chic was adorable and sexy, but she wasn’t looking for a project. She didn’t want to deal with the religious guilt. She wasn’t in it for the long haul. That’s ok, I mean, I needed to learn more about myself too. But, I kept finding those types of partners. Pushy, looking for something casual and easy, not treating me respectfully. Maybe that’s why the Poppy didn’t bother me too much, it wasn’t personal or vindictive.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were careful and considered, gifted to the artist with the utmost sincerity. Vivienne’s manipulation had perhaps been the most personal of all, even if it was for different reasons. For weeks, months even, she had helped stalk the artist. Gathering information. Assessing her talents, her position, her life. Nausea struck Vivienne’s gut like a tsunami, rising like the tide up her throat. Every breath she claimed was like breathing through a hurricane in her lungs. She had probably seen those people. Ones who had hurt Silvana. Those who had convinced the artistic wonder that she was not good enough to succeed. Vivienne had been so close to them, close enough to have dealt with them. To have spared Silvana some of this pain, possibly, and she’d done nothing.

“Viv. You didn’t manipulate me like they did.” Silvana offered comfort, though Vivienne found it lacking. Weak. Dishonest. Vivienne Tang most certainly had manipulated. Everything was so beautifully orchestrated, the melodic notes in a lifelong melody, falling into place like aligned dominos. From their first meeting, Vivienne’s purred compliments, the touch of pearls. Vivienne had played the role to a fantasy, the worldly, older woman leading a young artist into a world of glamour, of crime and mystery. She’d played the role as if she were to be upon the silver screen. The mentor. The romantic interest. She’d let Silvana think her much older, let Silvana drown in the mysteries she wove. Any romance upon the screen needed to end with a kiss and a tragedy, and Vivienne had delivered to perfection. Poisoned lipstick, the whisper of an apology in her throat. How was this not like the others who’d used Silvana in the past?

“I played with your emotions, poisoned you, then abandoned you in a strange city.” Vivienne pointed out, guilt turning her tongue to led. She wished she could claim her guilt was because she was, somewhere, deep down, a good person. That she regretted using the Artist like she had because it was not the kind thing to do. However much she wished she could deflect that crime to her duties to the Poppy, she could not. Not fully. That had been her choice and hers alone. Her panic when someone had grazed the walls around her mind and heart. Someone had gotten under her scales. That was precisely it. Silvana had worked her way into the hearts of the tight knit Poppy, had earned her place amongst their little family. Vivienne only felt guilty because it was Silvana specifically. A girl she was attached to. Loyal to. Someone in her heart, nestled alongside Nikolai, Remy, Jett, Leon and Zoe. Had Silvana not infiltrated her heart, Vivienne would never even batter an eyelid. She was, after all, a selfish creature. A viper who took what she wanted and left the corpse to the vultures to pick over. Left her marks for lesser thieves to squabble over like starved wolves.

“Yeah, that hurt, I can’t lie. But Viv, we worked through everything. I chased you, The Poppy, half way around the continent to do it. And I won’t lie and say we had it easy, but we got there. We faced it. We’re ok. We’re a team, family. I don’t hold any of that against you. Just, your comment, this piece. The heist. It brings back memories.”

“You are so much bigger than all of them. Silvana Mendo, you have painted your name across the world. Your forgeries hang in some of the finest galleries, fooling the greatest critics and adoring eyes by the thousands, still undiscovered years later. All those people who doubted you are meaningless fools. Please, zaika, do not let them drag you from the stars.” Vivienne’s voice was gentle, her pleading sincere. She lowered her knees, shifting until she was kneeling close to the artist, a devotee at the feet of a deity. The way Silvana’s lips curled into a sad smile was lancing; left Vivienne’s emotions bleeding from her in the form of answering tears. Eyeliner ran like charcoal down ashen cheeks, mirroring what she was staring at. She longed to fix this, wished she had the answers to make everything better. All she had were pretty words. Pretty words and small gestures.

“I know, but it isn’t always easy to feel like I know it. You’ve helped me become a more confident version of myself. Taught me how to fend those people off. Just, some days it feels as if my insecurity will break me.”

Vivienne scarcely registered removing one of her long silken gloves, only that her fingers felt bare against her poisoned lips. Her deadly kiss, meant with the most pure of intentions. It was stupid. As if such a minor gesture could give anything back to Silvana. As if it could mend wounds. The best it could so was send her loopy once the poison soaked into her pores. Vivienne caught her hand half extended, reaching towards the light, trying to drag it back into the Artist’s soul. She froze. Was she truly worthy? She had acted just the same as people who’d hurt the Cuban, what gave HER the right to try to fix it. One look at Silvana gave her the answer. It was so simple, as sure as the sun rose and set. As sure as the ground was beneath their knees. Silvana gave her the right, even without uttering a single word. Deep brown eyes implored Vivienne to close the distance, to try to tend to these gaping wounds. Both women watched Vivienne’s hand tremble as she closed the distance. A gentle brush of fingertips, delivering intent without risking a lipstick stain. Then, Vivienne was lost, running long fingers through frizzy hair in an effort to pull it away from a damp face. To reveal the beauty it was currently concealing.

“Then I’ll do my best to piece you back together. As many times as I must.” Vivienne vowed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her gloved hand lifted, gently curling around Silvana’s cheek. With her removed glove Vivienne dabbed at Silvana’s cheeks, wiped her runny nose, fretted over every smudge of paint. She remained there, dabbing delicately at the mess until Silvana’s tears ran dry. Until fussing earned soft laughter and playful comments. It was a far cry from Silvana’s most joyful, but it was a step. Vivienne already knew this would happen again. These dark memories would eat at the Artist, but Vivienne was determined to hold on. To keep the pieces together, even if it meant her own hands were sliced open. Even if it hurt. For all the treasures she had seen, all the riches she had stolen, nothing could compare to Silvana. The angel on her shoulder. The woman who embodied safety. The being who was her safe haven.

If Vivienne Tang had to bleed for something, she chose Silvana.

Every. Single. Time.

#vivienne #vivienne tang #woeful wednesday #angst #potential spoilers #psychological abuse #tw: homophobia #tw: conversion camp #tw: cheating #qot #lovestruck qot #queen of thieves #queen of thieves fic #vivienne x mc #submission

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trashyvirster · 4 years

Text

I admit that s3 was tough to watch as a Viren fan; not because his character “died”, but because it felt like his CHARACTER ARC died. To a lot of fans, he seemed to be a cardboard cut out villain and not the complicated villain we loved in S2.

But looking back on it, that's the whole point. His narrative shows his slow descent into evil and his fervent fall resulting in his own death. You gotta wonder what it all means.

I think Viren’s death symbolizes the END of his arc as a villain.

Here’s my timeline of Viren’s fall, death and ressurection.

The Man Harrow Believes In

Uncorrupted Viren

Viren is a genuinely good person at the start of this timeline, the day of the King’s Portrait. He’s such a good person Harrow himself insists he stand in the King’s portrait with him.

Viren is uncorrupted. He smiles! Acts a bit nerdy/goofy. He conveys love and adoration for Harrow with just his eyes. And he shows kindness for Sarai and her kids.

Titan Heart

Uncorrupted Viren

The next stop on our timeline is the Titan’s Heart flashback. As far as we can see, Viren is still uncorrupted. We see just how complex he is as a person. Pragmatic. Argumentive. Supportive. Stubborn. Caring. Resourceful. Brave.

1. Viren genuinely wants to support Harrow because he loves him. As his best friend, as his King. “FOR HUMANITY” is NOT his goal. Serving Harrow is his goal, its what he lives and breathes.

2. Despite his pragmatic arguments, Viren risked his own life to try to save two individuals. In other words, the sacrifice of the individual for the greater good is NOT something he’s happy to sit with.

3. He is BLUNT and honest. Uncorrupted Viren does NOT manipulate. He doesn’t say white lies either. On the contrary, he says exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. And sometimes that makes him a bit of an asshole. At least he’s an honest asshole!

4. He’s not vengeful or hateful. Sarai’s death greatly impacted him, but Uncorrupted Viren only shows grief and guilt.

This is his true self. This is Viren.

Thunder Slayer

Corrupted Viren

The first time we see Corrupted Viren is in the Virrow flashback of S3 when he and Harrow slay Thunder. Okay, this flashback is full of monstrous plot holes, but I’m gonna include it.

1. His personality is colder.

2. He doesn’t even acknowledge Ez’s presence in the room, compared to the King’s Portrait scene. Worrisome.

3. Where once was grief and guilt, now there’s only hatred for Xadia.

4. Where once he just wanted to support Harrow; he arguably has changed his goal. You’ve guessed it. FOR HUMANITY!! An amazing goal sure; but it’s impersonal…..And cold.

5. He didn’t exactly lie to Harrow. He told him he wanted to destroy the egg and why……...But he now keeps secrets from his King, his best friend.

6. He steals zym’s egg as a tool to use, justifying it because dragons are deadly and dangerous to humans anyways. Slippery slope.

7. He coins Rayla’s parents, for no real reason?? At least its not murder. Lol

8. His form is corrupted, symbolizing he’s no longer his true self. And he hasn’t been his true self IN YEARS.

Corrupted Viren is of gray morality; he’s NOT evil. He justifies his actions towards Xadia with his mindset “FOR HUMANITY” in a time of war.

Though he steals Zym’s egg as a tool….he never actually uses it. If anything, this shows that while Viren has an addiction to collecting Xadians as tools to use……..He can’t actually bring himself to use them unless it serves some sort of purpose for Katolis or Harrow.

The Man Harrow Lost Faith In

Corrupted Viren

We’re finally at the start of the show. Yes, the soft Viren that took shippers by the heart when he woke up Harrow is - corrupted. He’s been corrupted for years. But even as corrupted, Viren tries his best to be a good man, to be the man Harrow believed in.

1. Insisting one soldier give his life to Harrow was pragmatic. But Viren choosing to give his own life for Harrow….that was personal. This wasn’t a “for humanity!” moment. He wanted to give us life to Harrow, because he loves him.

2. Yes, he is short with Soren. But he tries to treat of his children equally; bringing them into the office for the debrief, together.

3. He (eventually) shows softness to both of his children and a great sadness at the thought of leaving them. LET ME EMPHASIZE. HE SHOWS SADNESS AT THE THOUGHT OF LEAVING SOREN. The scene is when he pleads with Soren “I hope you’ll understand! I’ll do anything, anything!”

While this Viren is capable of such cruelty towards Xadians, he shows true devotion and love for his kingdom and family. He’s gray, he’s corrupted, but he still has a heart. And yes, he shows love for Soren.

Villain

Dark Viren

But sadly, when Viren said “Goodbye Claudia” he meant it. Because when he walked out of Harrow’s room on that fateful day, he was no longer the same man. SOMETHING happened to him in that room. But what?

Dark Viren covers the remainder of S1 and most of S2. To summarize the startling differences:

1. Claudia is now the only living person he shows any amount of love to. But even his relationship to Claudia is not the same. Before he was vulnerable and honest. Now he lies and manipulates; even to Claudia.

2. Blunt honesty is out the window. Why bother reasoning with people when they’re all absolute idiots? If Viren can’t make them understand, then he will simply manipulate them. Especially Soren.

3. Virens love for his son has died. He is a tool to cultivate and use.

4. Viren intentionally divides his children; treating them differently.

5. While before, Viren’s “FOR HUMANITY” pragmatism was much more gray- here it morphs into something much more evil. A complete lack of care of what or who is sacrified, even if it’s his own son.

6. Giving Soren the mission to kill the princes is evil. His first true evil action on this descent.

But Dark Viren is still a very complicated man, far from a cookie cutter villain.

1. He shows a reluctance to actually murder with his own hands. He could have murdered Runaan, he didn’t. He could have murdered Gren, Opeli, the council, ect. He doesn’t. Which makes the mission he gave to Soren all the more cruel; he’s hoping Soren will do what he has yet to; spill blood.

2. He’s still very cautious with every step, especially with Aaravos.

3. He genuinely believes Xadia poses a threat. BECAUSE AMAYA SAID SO.

4. While he got pissed off at the pentarchy, taking vengeance was NOT his original response. When he returned to Katolis after the failed meeting, Opeli bitched at him, but Viren is so defeated he doesn’t even bother to bitch back, he just answers “for nothing….”

Dark Viren would finally give into Aaravos, admitting he desires for some important men and women to listen to him. Somehow Aaravos heard “so...murder? lollol”

Murderer

Evil Viren

With Aaravos guiding him, Viren became a murderer. It happened at the end of S2 with the Shadow Assassin spell; making him fall deep into the path of evil. Whereas Dark Viren could be redeemed, Evil Viren walked an unredeemable path ensuring his destruction and death.

When Aaravos told Viren to stop when the soldiers were trying to arrest him, Viren argues “But I have all the power I need to destroy them!” Sounds like a cookie cutter villain right? Because he became one. All of this was back in S2.

We can talk at length at how cookie cutter Viren felt in S3, at how horrible and cruel he was to Soren. But Viren being a cookie cutter villain isn’t a mistake. IT’S THE WHOLE DAMN POINT.

The point is Aaravos is evil and utilized Viren’s corruption. And by the end of S3, he’s practically posessed by Aaravos.

It was Aaravos who took Viren’s desire to have the pentarchy listen to him and transform that into murder. It was Aaravos who whispered in Viren’s ear to LIE to Claudia, resulting in gaslighting Soren. It was Aaravos who schemed for Viren to have an army - to conquer Xadia. It was Aaravos who schemed for Viren’s army to be gifted/turned into “monsters”. It was Aaravos who told Viren to take Zym’s energy. Did you notice where it was going??............Aaravos’ staff.

True, Evil Viren still had some nuance. Calling Claudia his daughter, saying he wants humanity to flourish, lacking a plan for what comes after attacking xadia lol. But he is a hollow shell compared to the Man Harrow Believed In of S1. And he lacks the rationality and caution of Dark Viren of S2.

The end result of Viren’s absolute descent into evil; attempting Zym’s murder - was his own death.

Dead Viren

Viren died at the height of his evil villainy. And he really died. He’s like dead, dead, super dead guys.

But you know what else I think died? His narrative as a villain. Why? Because he already did that. He had everything he asked for. He had an army of four kingdoms. He had magic. He had power. He had “control”. He gave it all, and he lost it all.

He didn’t just lose his life. He lost everything. Everything but Claudia. But actually you can argue...that he’s lost her too.

Why would he want to go through that again?

Resurrected Viren

But Viren was ressurected. The question is, what is his narrative now? Ah, a speculative meta for another day!

So have hope mage fam, because we have four more seasons to go and Viren’s ain't going anywhere. …….Redemption, and possibly saving Claudia from Aaravos, is still on the table.

PS. In my last meta, I said the ritual was one of healing. Well bitches, I wasn’t wrong! (wink)

#lordviren meta #viren #tdpspoilers #tdps3spoilers #meta

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blackdragon-selfships · 4 years

Note

1 with Aaravos? ^^

Sure thing! ^^

Selfship Drabble Asks

1. First Meeting

This is actually something I wrote a while ago, but it seemed appropriate. It’s Canon-divergent and any TDP fans reading, it takes place during the episodes surrounding Viren and the Pentarchy as he tries convincing them to fight back against Xadia with Katolis. It’s thanks to a collective discussion between true-Neutral-earth-elf and beautifulterriblequeen, two really cool blogs that have a lot of interesting theories and discussions, where they were talking about a “what if” scenario. If Viren successfully convinced all the monarchs to go through with his plan of fighting Xadia, what would happen?

To summarize their discussion, Duren (Queen Aanya’s kingdom) would suffer the most either way. Either the elves or Katolis would take control of it. In this story, Katolis takes over.

Viren becomes busy preparing for war on Xadia. I can’t really see how he’d get around Opeli’s wrath from him going behind her back, but that isn’t the point. He’s got everyone on board and they’re going to war (eventually). This leaves Aaravos’ mirror covered. Viren has no need to risk whatever the mysterious elf had started with him, so he doesn’t bother with the mirror for the time being.

Enter Meg, his quiet assistant (in this storyline) that mostly documented the creatures used in his and his apprentice daughter’s (Claudia) spells. She isn’t important enough to know what he’s up to but she has seen him going down into the secret storeroom quite a few times. She knew there was an elf locked up down there...a Moonshadow elf who assassinated the king. She had never seen an elf before and thought now would be a good time to see one with her own eyes...

(Story snippet/chapter starts here)

Meg navigated the tunnels with little difficulty after climbing into the secret passage behind the portrait before pushing the right stones into the wall to open the door. Thinking no one would be down there (except the elf, of course) she made her way down the stairs without pause. Only to freeze in her tracks when she spotted the man chained to the wall in the main chamber.

It was Commander Gren. They weren’t exactly friends, but she knew him and that he was General Amaya’s interpreter. What was he doing down here?

“Oh, hey! Meg right?” He smiled good naturedly at her as she just stared, “Viren’s assistant?”

She nodded.

“I thought so! Well good to see you.”

She blinked.

“...what are you doing down here?” She finally asked.

“Me? Well...Lord Viren’s orders.” He grinned sheepishly, “he took me off my mission then had me locked up. But don’t worry! I’m sure I’ll get out of here any day now! Uh, what day is it, by the way?”

“...Saturday?”

“Oh. It feels longer.”

“...yeah...”

An awkward silence.

“Well good talk.” Gren smiled again then went back to sitting against the wall. Meg didn’t know what to say so just...walked past him to the cell door. She presses her ear to the wood, listening for breathing or chains shifting. Anything.

She then took a deep breath and pushed open the door to find-

An empty room.

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. Where was the elf? This was the only closed cell in the dungeon. She pouted, arms crossed, then looked around the room with her eyes for clues. What she saw didn’t give any further ideas of the elf’s whereabouts, but she did notice several odd things.

A velvet cushioned armchair was positioned in the middle of the room facing something with a sheet covering it. That was strange...what was a perfectly good chair doing down here? The sheet was also suspicious. It could be covering something interesting. Why else would it be down here?

Making up her mind, Meg walked over to the sheet and after stopping to listen for footsteps but hearing nothing but Gren whistling a simple tune, she pulled it down...

...and revealed a beautiful glass mirror, decorated in runes she couldn’t decipher and carved from a wood she couldn’t identify. That wasn’t the most interesting part, however. The mirror was giving off a light that didn’t reflect the dungeon. It was showing an ornate, but small, library it seemed. Bookcases and a crackling fireplace as well as an empty desk in the background. She stared in awe at the beautiful room, wondering where this was.

The door on the left then opened and she gasped. A cloaked figure emerged, walking gracefully down a two-step platform and into the main room. She watched as they walked a little ways in before turning rather swiftly and looking right at her. Could they see her? Apparently so, because they turned fully and walked toward her.

Her eyes widened slightly and she found herself backing up toward the door. Something about this figure intimidated her but she didn’t know what. They stopped and she noticed the table in front of them on what she could only guess was their side of the mirror. Not only that but they didn’t reach toward her or anything. Could they be inside it and unable to get out? Like in the Soul Transfer spell?

It was a little known secret...but Meg had taken a peek at Viren’s book of spells. She was curious to at least understand the idea but not practice it. Maybe it would help her connect with him and Claudia a bit better (or just Claudia, more likely...) The spell to trap someone’s Soul in an object was one of those she found and couldn’t bring herself to believe Viren or Claudia would use. It was highly advanced and...evil.

Wait...was that what happened here? Did Lord Viren punish the elf assassin by transferring his Soul to a mirror?! Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand to her mouth in horror at the thought. Something that must have been misinterpreted as a scream by the cloaked stranger whose own eyes widened. He raised a hand that glittered like stars, in a placating manner as another went to his lips in a shushing gesture.

She stood there, frozen, as the figure watched her. She then lowered her hand and willed her tension to fade as she moved toward the mirror again. Only to stop and look back at the door. Would it be a stupid idea to close it? The elf didn’t seem to be in a position to attack...

She made up her mind and turned, carefully pushing the door shut, then turned back to the mirror. The elf had lowered his hands and was now watching her with a curious head tilt. She took a deep breath then walked back over to him and he followed her with his eyes.

“Are you the elf assassin?” She looked up at him. He was...quite tall. Was that normal for elves?

He looked down at her but said nothing. She frowned slightly.

“Are you the elf who assassinated the king?” She repeated a bit louder. He continued to look at her, but his eyes were on her lips now. She blinked when she noticed this, realizing he was reading her lips.

“Wait...can you even hear me? Just a nod yes or no will do.”

A pause. A very long pause. Then a slight shake of the head. No.

“No? Are you deaf then? I know someone that’s deaf...but I don’t know sign language...or how to read it.”

Again his eyes returned to her mouth.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She cleared her throat and tried again more slowly, “are you deaf? Is that why you can’t hear me?”

Another pause before he shook his head again.

“Not deaf? Then is it...this? The glass?” She rapped the mirror with a finger. His eyes and head followed her movement. He then looked her in the eye and smirked.

A chill went up her back when she saw that smirk. It gave her mixed feelings she couldn’t place and she wasn’t sure how to process it.

“I-I’ll take that as a yes...” She gulped. He tilted his head down in an agreeing nod.

“That must not be fun...” she frowned pityingly at the mirror, “who did this to you?”

Another pause. This time he frowned but it seemed to be in thought. He then shook his head.

“You don’t know?” She guessed but didn’t get a straight response, “is there some way to communicate then? Paper and quill maybe?”

He read her lips again then smirked. She didn’t understand what that meant until he gestured to the spread on his table. She looked down at it, at the broken geode next to a silver goblet and the red cloth depicting a symbol sewn with golden thread...and a curved knife resting next to an empty bowl.

She raised an eyebrow at him. He gestured to the spread again, then nodded his head to the right. Her right. She then realized he was telling her to look to her right, and when she did she found the same spread.

“...that looks like stuff for a magic spell of some sort.” She walked over to it for a closer look. Like the table in the mirror, this one had a broken geode next to one of the castle goblets, an embroidered rune on cloth, and a knife stabbed into the wood of the table. Who could this belong to? Lord Viren? Was this what put the elf in the mirror?

She looked back over at him and he nodded slightly. To what she couldn’t tell, but she hoped he hadn’t just read her mind. He then picked up the knife and showed it to her. She felt another shiver, this time of nervous dread, when she saw it. He then held it up to his palm over the pot in front of him and looked her in the eye. As though daring her to do the same.

“...I-I dunno...” she held her hand to her chest worriedly but faced him so he read her lips, “I’m not really comfortable with all that Dark Magic stuff Viren and Claudia do.”

He continued to hold his hands out. Knife to palm with what she could only assume was an encouraging expression.

“Isn’t there another way?” She almost pleaded. The thought of cutting herself made her skin crawl. He shook his head, fingers flexing slightly and palm nudging toward her. Pressing the knife just a bit deeper but not cutting skin yet.

She must be crazy to actually do this. To follow the instructions of an unknown elf just for some answers to personal curiosities. She sighed, then reached for the knife and yanked it from the wood. If this killed her then lesson learned. Damn her curiosity!

She turned her head to watch the elf. He smiled, then curled his hand around the knife until it pierced skin and bled into the pot. There was a puff of purple smoke before it glowed red. Meg then did the same, gritting her teeth at the sharp prick of the steel against her flesh before a trickle of blood fell from her palm into her own pot. The same effect happening.

She then turned as she saw the elf open his mouth. Was he going to speak? She turned fully and waited. Only for him to lift his tongue and for a purple caterpillar of unknown nature to crawl out of his mouth and onto his raised hand. She should be disgusted by this...but found herself only fascinated.

He then lowered his hand to the pot, finger barely touching the swirling purple and red liquid within. The caterpillar then descended and with a purple puff of flame appeared in her pot. Circling the inside a few times. She stared at it, then glanced at the elf. He nodded his head for her to proceed, smirking again. She then took a deep breath and carefully lowered her hand toward the caterpillar.

This wasn’t the first time she had done this. As a wildlife researcher she dealt with them all the time, including picking them up for closer examination. The caterpillar immediately crawled up her hand and along her arm. She watched its progress until it went up her neck and stopped at the shell of her ear. What?

She tried glancing sideways at the caterpillar and waited. Then raised a hand as though to pick it up before it crawled inside her ear. It could-

“Speak.” A raspy, deep voice commanded right next to her ear. She whipped around, eyes wide. The door was still closed and the room was empty. Which meant...she slowly turned back toward the mirror and this time saw his lips move as the voice spoke again.

“Speak so that I may hear you.”

“...” she swallowed, “h-hello?”

“Ah...” He sighed, his expression one of bliss, “how long it has been since I’ve waited to hear the sound of another voice...” He then smirked. “How may I serve you?”

She stared, unsure how to respond. First of all...she did not expect that voice to come out of that mouth. Second, was the caterpillar how they were talking? Third...what did he mean serve?

“E-excuse me?”

“You wished to speak.” He smirked, “which means you have need of my services, correct?”

“Uh...I think there’s a misunderstanding. I was just wondering if you were the elf that killed King Harrow?”

A pause.

“I do not know a King Harrow.” He tilted his head slightly, “who are you looking for? Perhaps I can help.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t looking for anyone. I was just wondering if it was you...but apparently not.”

“Do you know anything of this elf?”

“A bit? I only know he was a Moonshadow elf, but nothing else.”

A contemplative look came over the mirror-elf’s face.

“A Moonshadow...I see.”

“I thought he would be here. I just wanted to see him with my own eyes, since I’ve only ever seen elves in books and...well mostly books.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention what Viren did with the other assassins’ remains, “but he isn’t...if you aren’t him.”

“The one you speak of must be the Moonshadow elf I saw in here a while ago. He is long gone now.”

“I figured that...but thanks for confirming....” She smiled slightly before it fell, “what about you? Were you captured too?”

“No. I have been here for much longer.”

“How long?”

“The passage of time is all but irrelevant here.”

“...where is here? In the mirror?”

“...I don’t know.” He admitted. He looked a bit...confused. Concerned maybe?

“You mean you don’t know where you are in there?” She pointed to the surrounding scenery behind him, “or where the mirror is?”

“The former I think. Though the place you are in is also unfamiliar.”

“That’s weird... So you don’t know where you are. Do you know how you got there? Was it a Dark Mage?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped. His gaze fell on the door behind her. Eyes sharp.

“Someone is coming.”

“What?” She whipped around and heard footsteps, “oh no...it’s probably Viren!”

She turned back to the mirror and grabbed the sheet.

“What are you doing?” His tone carried a slightly panicked note and she stopped to look at him. His eyes now on the sheet.

“I have to cover the mirror or he’ll know someone’s been down here.” She explained, “and if he traces it back to me I’ll be in a lot of trouble probably!”

“Then do so quickly and hide. There is not enough time to flee.” He commanded and she found herself obeying without hesitation. She tossed the sheet back over the mirror and jabbed the knife back into the wood, then looked around for somewhere to hide. The room was empty aside from the table, chair, and the mirror.

The chair was a horrible hiding place. Too small a gap and in plain sight. The table was a better option but the door was still positioned where someone would see if they looked down far enough. Mirror it was. It was big and tall enough to hide behind and the sheet made it denser.

She squeezed behind it as she heard the footsteps grow louder and closer. Commander Gren’s cheerful greeting carrying through the wooden door but the visitor ignoring him. She slid to a sitting position behind the mirror finally, and just in time because the door was pushed open soon after. The clack of a walking staff followed by footfalls echoing in the small room and leaving no doubt in her mind it was Lord Viren.

He stopped in front of the mirror and there was silence. Then the sheet was yanked down and the pale blue light from the mirror room flooded the dungeon cell. Meg froze, not daring to shift even an inch for fear of his sharp eyes catching it. He stood in front of the mirror then and she waited.

“I know you understand what I am saying, so pay attention. I may not know why you were so important to the king of the dragons, but that will change eventually. Without you.” She could hear his smug smirk from where she sat, “there is bound to be another elf that will tell me all I need to know. In the meantime I am keeping this down here. Away from prying eyes.”

He then turned and left the room. Meg listening until she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore.

“He is gone.” She jumped. That was not going to be easy to get used to...

“What was that all about?” She grunted as she pushed herself up and shimmied our from behind the mirror to face the elf again.

“That was my previous Mage before you finished the spell.”

“Oh, so it was Viren-Wait. Previous Mage?”

“I could tell immediately he was a mage.” He looked from the door to her.

“Well yeah, he doesn’t really hide it...but what do you mean your previous Mage?”

“Nothing as elaborate as you think. Just that he started the spell, but you finished it.”

“...but I’m not a mage. I don’t have anything to do with magic usually.”

“Really? Hm...well you are now. Congratulations.” He smirked.

“But I didn’t do anything? I just cut my palm...which I should probably bandage up before it gets infected.” She grimaced down at it, “I should also get going...if I’m gone too long someone will eventually notice.”

This wasn’t even remotely true, but she didn’t want to get caught like this. The elf in the mirror frowned and she couldn’t help but think it was a bit disappointed. Maybe even lonely.

“I’ll try to come back some other time though.” She offered, “if you want.”

“If that is what you wish.” He replied a bit cryptically.

“Ok...well see you later then, uh...what’s your name?”

He smirked again.

“It is irrelevant.”

“...ok, Irrelevant, see you later.” She smirked back before pulling the caterpillar from her ear and putting it in a glass jar, which she then put behind the mirror where she had hidden. She then turned to leave. His slightly surprised expression at her words the last she saw before shutting the door behind her.

-to be continued... (or not)-

That would have been a chapter for the “what if” story if I ever decided to keep working on it. I liked the idea of exploring Viren in power without the help and guidance of Aaravos, and how Ezran then Callum and Rayla will eventually have to deal with that. Aaravos entering the picture seems to have made a lot of the fans forget Viren IS a genius and just as manipulative. His reasons for his actions are different, but he’s always had the skills to get to this point. If just one or two things happened differently for him, he would have been victorious.

But that said, I chose this story because the exchange between Meg and Aaravos has always been enjoyable to reread for me. So, why not share it? It was this or the maybe-canon version of the story, but that one is more boring since their first meeting isn’t very eventful. They don’t start communicating until the second or third.

#me/g answers #you ask for a drabble #i give you a novel #XD #i can’t go 100 words or under #ask game: selfship drabbles #first meeting #megavos #starlight’s writing

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maruwrites · 6 years

Text

The Revolution Pt. IV

Summary: Dustin thinks he’s finally gonna have a quiet, normal childhood after the events with the Demodogs and Dart, until a new threat shows up at his house in the form of a 17-year old girl.

Warnings: None?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Word count: 1,960

Part I :: Part II :: Part III

It was actually surprising he’d recognized her voice.

Steve had only heard her once the day before, when she’d been rude to him for no reason. Now, she was being all polite and sweet, and it sounded radically different, like it was another person. It sounded nice.

“Just 2 dollars? It’s in near mint condition,” (Y/N) pleaded. She was too wrapped up in the conversation with Mr. Watkins to even notice Steve walking in the bookstore. He quickly hid behind one of the shelves of used books.

This hadn’t been on purpose. He promised himself he’d keep an eye on her, but he wasn’t stalking the girl. Steve was just trying to make amends with Dustin and he thought buying him a new edition of The Three Musketeers had been a good idea, seeing as the boy’s book was all torn up and falling apart. Not to mention a bit ironic, sure.

Yeah. Steve Harrington was going soft.

But he didn’t have a choice, really. He felt bad. He thought about calling the Henderson house when he got home that day, but didn't want to intrude or get in the way of anything that might be happening, especially if Dustin stopped being such a hard head and actually took the older boy's advice. Steve had even turned on the walkie-talkie the kid gifted to him right after the events with the Demo-dogs (because "you're one of us now, buddy. Don't even try to deny that."), but not a sound. Not only was Dustin not saying anything, which was rare and the whole reason Steve would groan loudly and leave the walkie off most of the time, he was actually ignoring the other boy's attempt to contact him on their channel. (Yes, they had their own channel.)

So... Drastic measures, right? The first thing he did the next day was get on his car and go to the store. Yeah. Soft.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. That's the price I would pay you for this book," Mr. Watkins, the 65-year old owner of the bookstore, lamented, a sympathetic look on his face. "Now, if your offer still stands, I'm sure we could work something out. You would help me here for a while, organize this mess, as you so kindly pointed out to me the other day-" At that, (Y/N) let out a hearty laugh. Yeah, Steve thought, definitely nice. "And you can read all the books you want. When you decide to leave, I can trade you, how about that? The books in that bag of yours for a few from the store."

"And you'd still pay me, right?" Her voice had been rough the day before, now it was all soft edges, a nice cadence. "I don't mean to be an ass, but I very much need the money."

Mr. Watkins laughed. "Of course, I'd pay you. I can't believe I'm gonna be paying the ass who showed up here every day for almost a week, pointing out all the flaws in my shop and how she would help me fix them. But don't worry, I'm gonna pay you."

(Y/N) laughed again. She was at ease, that much Steve could tell. "Thank you, Mr. Watkins." A thought crossed her mind. "Uh, you know, if you don't want me working here, it's fine. I hear the movie theater is looking for a new employee, and-"

"Save it, kid. It's done." He gave her a smile. "You showed up every day for the past seven days, reading everything you could get your hands on until closing time. I think you might be a good asset.”

She gave him a shy smile, and he pointed out to the room in the back, telling her where to keep her stuff. (Y/N) went inside for a moment and came back, starting to organize the new arrivals at the shelves.

Steve took a deep breath and planned on hiding out at least until she went back inside again. But then, Mr. Watkins voice resonated throughout the bookstore.

"Anything I can help you with, young man?" Steve winced. He got out of his not-so-great hiding spot and went over to the counter where the old man was, not missing the undecipherable look on (Y/N)'s face he caught with the corner of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for The Three Musketeers."

"Ah, Alexandre Dumas' magnum opus. Yes, yes. A tale about d'Artagnan as he tries to join the Musketeers of the Guard. A fine novel, young man. You know, he wrote that book when he was 42-years old, and it's largely based on the author's close experience with the military, since his father had been a well-known General in France's Republican army..." He went on. Steve was trying to concentrate on what the man was saying, but he was way too aware of the fact that the girl had disappeared right after she saw him. But it didn't take too long for her to show up again.

"Here, Mr. Watkins. The book he was searching for." (Y/N) smiled at the man, and scowled at Steve, keeping her eyes focused on him. Steve was cursing himself in his mind.

"Ah, thank you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N). In all of the talks he had with Dustin, he'd never thought to ask her name, and the boy certainly didn't use it. He kept calling her the girl. (Y/N).

Steve was pulled away from his thoughts by the old man's voice, who was telling him his total and wrapping up the book. Steve payed for it, took the bag and gave (Y/N) a look. It couldn't have been worse than the look she was giving him. That's not what he wanted. He wanted to say Let's talk. He wanted to convey a Don't hate me look. For some reason. What did he have to say? What did he want to say? He just felt like he had to talk to the girl. Damn you, Dustin.

Steve went outside and leaned against the cool glass of the bookstore, hoping she would understand him, waiting for her to follow his lead. As soon as he picked up a cigarette, the door opened.

"What. The. Fuck. Are you following me?," (Y/N) whisper-yelled at him. He turned and saw Mr. Watkins eyeing them curiously. He wondered what she'd said to him before going out.

"Don't flatter yourself, okay? I didn't know you'd be here, I'm just buying something for Dustin." He didn't mean to bite back, really. But he got defensive, he was tired from all the emotional stuff from yesterday between Dustin and his mum, and Dustin and him, and this girl who had just shown up, who gave her the right?, and why did she have this intensity in her eyes?, it made it very hard for Steve to even think about looking away.

At the mention of the boy, her body tensed, but her facial features softened. Steve didn't have a choice. He had to notice the way her eyes dropped down, the way she rubbed her hands on each other, how she bit her lower lip.

"Oh. Right. Okay, then." She turned her back to him and Steve's mind went into overdrive.

"I could help you out," he practically yelled. He winced at how loud he'd been. (Y/N) turned around. "What?"

"I... Uh, I'm...," Steve sighed. "Can you meet me at the diner right around the corner? Say, noon? I... I wanna help.”

She stared at him, suspiciously. 'This is a mess. What are you doing?', she thought. What does he have to gain? Why is he doing this? He's just a random dude who was giving Dustin a ride, why on Earth would he want to talk to her? What would he have to say? Would he tell her to leave them alone? Leave Claudia and Dustin be and just go away? That wouldn't be the first time someone would forcefully suggest her that.

Steve waited and braced himself. For her to say no, to tell him to go fuck himself, to flip him off. Maybe what Dustin needed wasn't a book, maybe what Dustin needed was to sit down and talk to her, find out more about her, just get to know her. Maybe that would be a better gift to repair his friendship with the boy, but in order to do that, first Steve needed to help her. He was so sure she wouldn't take his offer, she would just ignore him.

His heart broke a little when in a rare moment of vulnerability, she just whispered: "Why?”

It was 12:15 and there was no sign of her.

‘It’s only been fifteen minutes, man,’ he thought, trying to calm himself down, but he was wreck. Steve was a doer, not a talker. He would try ease into things, but maybe he couldn’t fix this, maybe this was something that couldn’t be fixed at all. But he owed to Dustin to at least try and help out his friend. Which was who he was doing this for. He was certainly not doing this for the unruly-haired girl, crossing the streets absentmindedly, in an oversized sweater, mom jeans and Converse sneakers. Definitely not for the girl who was so quick to lower her eyes at a stranger while he held the door open for her, a quiet thank you leaving her lips. No, not for this girl who looked at him with daggers in her eyes, a hard exterior taking over her. The vulnerability and softness were gone.

(Y/N) sat down in front of Steve and stared at him.

Boy, this was gonna be tough.

“So... You, um... We should probably get something to eat.” The waitress came to their table, took their order and left. Steve noticed she was always polite, to everyone but him apparently. “Uh. Congrats on getting a job.”

‘What? Why the fuck would you say that? Moron.’

“It’s Steve, right?,” she snapped, giving him an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t blame her now. “What’s in this for you? Why are you even in this? Nothing about this concerns you.”

So no easing into things, right?

“It does, in a way.” She lift her eyebrows, and he explained. “Dustin is a good friend of mine.”

“Why are you hanging out with middle schoolers?”

He rubbed his neck. “It’s... complicated.”

“Look, if you don’t wanna tell me, it’s fine-“

“I don’t.” Steve was quick to add. He almost missed the tiny lift of the corner of her lips.

“But isn’t you telling me things the whole point of this? Don’t you wanna help me with Dustin?” Something Steve did notice. Anytime Dustin was brought up, she visibly changed, her posture, her features, everything. As if dealing with everything else, absent parents and being left behind was nothing compared to having a half-brother.

“I was hoping you would tell me things.”

“And why would I do that? I don’t know you.”

“Because I’m your best tool to get close to Dustin.”

“Well, you’re a tool. I’ll give you that.”

Steve quirked his brows and there was a silence. (Y/N) thought maybe she’d crossed a line. Not that she cared, because she didn’t. But her thoughts were interrupted by a loud laugh coming from the boy in front of her.

“That was good. Funny.”

She tried not to blush or feel proud for having made him laugh. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes in hopes that that would at least help her get her shit together. Their food arrived and the first thing (Y/N) did was take a handful of fries and dunk them on the chocolate milkshake she’d ordered. At that, Steve grinned.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. I just- I have a feeling you and Dustin are gonna get along just fine.”

Tags: @moltars @sociallyimpairedme @hufflepeople @ uncle-jjezzy @ bitchinmouthbreather @hanasamara @lexannani

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x oc #harrington x henderson!reader #revolution series

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