i am anti-yarrick-being-actually-dead UNLESS it means ghazghkull ripping the imperium a new one because they lost ‘is best krumpin’ buddy

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed -- The Conclusion

This it the Coda for The Thing That Lives Under The Bed.

Did you wonder what Peter and his friends did once they got their hands on ALL those spellbooks?  Maybe you were curious what would happen if Peter performed the spell of the Kings of the East and the King of the West, splitting Tony in two?

I will be posting one chapter a day #OnHere, in honor of the place where the story began.

                             -------------------------------------------------------

                                               Adulthood

                                   The Trap and The Bait

In addition to realizing that he is in love with the thing that lives under his bed, Peter Parker and his friends have also discovered an underground library full of spellbooks, spirits calling out to be freed and the promise of any number of superpowers.

You may be wondering what they did next.

You are getting closer to the answer.

The twenty-six year old High-High Priest could have simply run down the path, but sometimes Peter Parker was just overcome with the need to leap around like a character from a comic book.  Under any other circumstances Angel would have complimented him.  Certainly Angel had read his fair share of comics himself (from Monica’s and Peter’s childhood stashes.  Angel prided himself on the fact that he could hold up in own in any heated Bob Keen vs Alan Moore debate) but, at the moment, the only image in his mind was that of a mouse in a trap. 

Peter was wearing the same suit that he had arrived home in, the same one he usually wore on Capitol Hill when he was schmoozing senators about the Clean Water act or another EPA bill.  The tie was gone, and the shirt was opened at the collar.  The suit itself should have been rumpled from his journey through the trees, but it must have been one of the enchanted ones.  Not that Peter Parker would have minded in any case.  It wasn’t his only expensive suit.

He was devastatingly handsome in the moonlight, but Angel knew that the man was devastatingly handsome everywhere.  Everyone thought so.

The weak and infirm flocked to the Lavern Post Healing Center from far and wide.  Either they were healed by Dr. Cyprian, or they were convinced by Laura-Bee that it was their destiny to find treatment elsewhere.  But all them, every one, commented on Peter Parker and his movie-star good looks.  Even Matty, the High Priest, reluctantly admitted that, even though he stayed behind to cast the convincing-spells, it was Peter’s good looks that really opened doors for him when Peter set out for [the directions to the White House.]  Laura-Bee, of course, was always happy to tell, in loving detail, about the first time she had laid eyes on handsome Peter Parker.  About the day the first met, about how they were childhood sweethearts.

Laura’s super-power was mesmerism, and she didn’t use it very often.  

But when she told stories of her childhood, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling right into her memory.  As if you, yourself were walking home from Robert E Lee school, walking down the dirt road, desperate to hold Peter’s hand lovingly and listen to him describe every detail of Silent Spring.  Every long-time member of the Post Homestead had heard that story.  Maybe that's why every member of the Post Homestead felt like they had been in love with Peter Parker their entire life.  That Peter Parker was the only man they had truly ever loved, and that they, too, would be married to Peter if Peter weren’t married to Dr. Tony Cyprian.

And they were.  In love with Peter Parker, even if only for a little while.  Every guest seemed to fall for him too, if not romantically… well... they all seemed to be a little hot for him.  Even the guests that chose to stay in the Abe Sexton Library suites (recommended for all the straight-laced practitioners, the ones who weren’t interested in the Homestead’s attitude toward sexual freedom) lay in their beds and night and fantasized about the devastatingly handsome and dead-sexy Peter Parker.  Angel knew. 

Angel knew it all.

And Angel was certainly in love with the man himself.

Which was ridiculous, of course.  Imagine… being hopelessly in love with the Peter Parker, the man loved by politicians, Disciples and demons.  Fabulously wealthy parishioners flocked to him to be rid of their pain and their guilt, side by side with big-name lawmakers from Capitol Hill, all succumbing to his charm and openly trying to introduce him to their daughters.  Imagine a man like that even looking twice at him.  At him, a scrawny, dirty, sunken-eyed miscreant with a wild unruly hair and a perpetually bad attitude.

Of course, Peter Parker was looking at him now.

His handsome face looked perplexed, taking in Angel, the lapping water, and then the rock.  He looked back at Angel, barefoot and trembling at the water’s edge.  He didn’t look angry at all, but he did look like a man in a hurry.  He was panting a little.  Gracefully he stepped down to the sand where Angel stood.

“Angel?  Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Angel cried out.  Hating the petulant, childish sound of his voice, hating the way his throat felt too tight to speak at all.  “I won’t go.  You can’t make me.”

“What are you talking about?  Of course I could make you…”

For just a moment, Angel saw it.

Peter Parker was a handsome man with kind eyes (and he could be kind, oh he could be so very kind) but he was also a master magician, the leader of a coven of magicians, each commanding their own army of spirits.  (Any minute now Angel was expecting Plucky to turn the plants into bindweed to hold him down or Moonlight to appear and force him back to the ceremony with silent, pleading eyes.)  Peter Parker wasn’t just the darling of Capitol Hill and a brilliant environmentalist crusader, rubbing elbows with chieftains and royalty and Heads of State.  He was also a formidable wizard who had summoned his first demon at the age of 13, a man of incredible natural power, a man feared by mortals and devils alike.

For just a moment Angel saw that man, that other powerful man, flash across Peter’s face.

Then it was gone.

“But I don’t want to make you.  I’m not going to give you orders.  You’re not my slave.  But… but I don’t understand...”  His face and his voice was gentle as he stepped closer.   “Angel, please help me understand what’s happening.  You’ve never run away from a ritual before.  We called for you, but you were nowhere.  Even Anton couldn’t say where you were.  What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to… please.  Please, I don’t want to go.  I know what the High Priest wants to do to me.  I know what Anton is going to do to me – I know what the bones are for.  The black-cat bones.  The ones you keep in the back of the refrigerator  Please, Mr. Parker, please don’t make me.”

“Mr. Park…?”  Peter looked completely baffled.  He took a few hesitant steps forward, until he was almost within arms reach.

He didn’t look in the least bit out of place, wearing that expensive, glad-hander suit and standing on the banks of the lake by moonlight.  But Peter Parker never looked out of place anywhere.  He had a very convincing personality.

Angel was almost convinced himself.

“Baby, you’re confused.  Why would you be afraid of… I don’t even…why are you calling me Mr. Parker?  Oh god…”

He looked behind him at the black sky.  The moon, one day passed full, shown down on them like an all-seeing eye.  He groaned. “I waited too late, dammit I knew I shouldn’t have.  And you’re shaking like a leaf, just look at you…”

Peter reached for him and Angel started to back away, but then his bare feet splashed in the water.  He yelped in terror and leapt away from it.  That meant there was nowhere else to go, but directly into Peter’s arms.

Peter pulled him close, easily fitting Angel’s head into the crook of his neck, wrapping muscular arms around Angel’s skinny body and pulling him close.  There was no helping it.  Angel wrapped his boney arms around Peter’s body and clung to him, shivering.

“Oh god, I told them not to feed you but… I made a mistake, didn’t I?  I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed in Kenya for so long, I pushed it too far, I’m so sorry.  The things Princess Shuri told me were so huge… it was all so important and I thought I had more time.  Matty told me I had more time.  Amado,I didn’t mean to hurt you.  This is all my fault.  Please forgive me.  I should have taken better care of you.”

Angel pressed his slight body against the firm body of the taller man and held himself there.  Against that strength, he thought he could manage to stop shaking.  He even managed to pull one hand away long enough to wipe the tears away from his cheek (then snuck that hand up to touch Peter’s face shyly for a moment.)  “Did… did you?  Get to meet with Princess Shuri at the consulate?  Are we going to be protecting the black rhinos now?”

A look passed over Peter’s face, a look Angel had never seen before.  For a moment Peter looked… doubtful. 

“She wasn’t there to talk about the rhinos,” he said quietly, look away, gazing out at the moonlit lake.  “It was a trap.  Well… not a trap, but… but Shuri was definitely the bait.”

“She betrayed you?”  Angel asked in horror.  He would be angry, would be shaking in impotent rage... if he weren’t so surprised.  How could anyone deceive the High-High Priest?   How could anyone meet Peter Parker and not adore him with everything they had inside?

The strong man laughed ruefully.  “I don’t suppose it’s really ‘betrayal’ to lie to a man you’ve met twice because your brother asks you to do it. 

“Angel... Shuri and T'Challa are… well the word is “enhanced” now.  I suppose ‘superhero’ sounds too childish.  But T'Challa is just like me… we both inherited some ancient magic that was a hell of a lot bigger than we ever expected and a hell of a lot more than we ever bargained for.  Trust me, we talked for hours.  Unlike me, he grew up knowing what he was getting into… but he’s still been given a lot more than he wanted.  And just like me…”

Peter’s arms tightened around Angel has looked sadly at his domain.  He looked into the forest, across the lake, then up at Dead Oak Hill, bathed in the erie torchlight.  “… we just want to be left alone to play Comic-Books with our friends in our own tiny corner of the world that we’re king of..  Unlike me, he thinks he’s ready to join the grown-ups in the real world.  I’m not so sure.  Angel they want me to…”

He caught himself suddenly, as if he had forgotten who he was talking to.  He shook his head.  “I can’t really talk about it yet.  But it’s big, Angel.  It’s really big.  I can’t tell the others until I’ve talked to Tony.  Which means I have to take care of you first.  Look at you…”

Peter tightened his arms again, gazing into Angel’s eyes with a tender look.  He brushed his lips against Angel’s forehead in a tiny kiss.

“Angel,” he whispered, “…are you afraid?  What on earth could you be afraid of?  Nothing scares you.  You’re fearless.  Baby, please tell me what’s going on.”

Angel looked up into Peter’s face, so perfect and so beautiful in the moonlight.  He struggled to remember… he had been afraid, only now he couldn’t quite remember why.  There was something wrong with him, something terribly wrong, but now he couldn’t quite remember…

…until he did.

“Don’t let them send me away… please don’t.  I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go through the ceremony.  Please, Peter.  I can’t.  I can’t leave you.

“I love you,” he blurted, choking on the confession.  He found himself blushing, his whole body flushing at the secret words said aloud.  “I love you so much.  I know I’m not… I know I’m not anyone… I know I’m just a ragged, spoiled-rotten kid that weighs next to nothing and bugs everybody and I know I’m a constant nuisance and I know that I’m not someone important like a princess or a senator… but I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Peter’s forehead wrinkled in concern, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Angel, Angel sweetheart, do you see?   You’re so confused baby… oh can you… oh god how is this happening?? 

“Angel, how could you forget that I love you?”

Peter’s mouth on his was sweet and gentle and warm.  The kiss was tender and loving and everything Angel had imagined it would be.  Peter’s arms were strong and solid and he held Angel as if he never wanted to let him go.  It was a dream come true…

…and that was the problem.  Frantically Angel pulled away, trying to look around him.  Maybe this was a dream… maybe Laura-Bee was there with him, holding his hand and telling him the story, over and over and over again, of how she had fled across Lovesick Lake on the darkest night of her life, and there found the man that could take all her fear away just by holding her hand. 

But Laura wasn’t there.  He and Peter were alone in the moonlight, kissing on the banks of Virgin Lake.  Peter was warm and strong and solid and suddenly all Angel could think was… hadn’t they done this all before?  Hadn’t they held each other like this, kissed each other like this, on the same night as the ceremony?  Was that why it felt so much like a memory?

“Do you remember Amado?” Peter was whispering.  “Try… try to remember.”

“I can’t… I don’t… I keep reaching for it, but it’s not there…” Angel said through his tears.  Peter pulled him close again, tucking Angel’s head in the crook of his neck and rocking him back and forth.

“This is my fault,” he said, stroking Angel’s hair and kissing his head over and over again.  “It’s because I was sick the day of the spell, isn’t it?  I was still getting over the food poisoning, I was still weak… god I should have let Matty do the spell but I was too jealous and now look what’s happened…”

Angel was so surprised he pulled back enough to look into Peter’s face.  He wasn’t sure what startled him more, the fact that Peter could get sick, or that Peter had been jealous… of Matty?  Of Matty… and him?

“I can’t believe how badly we messed this up.  It’s always gone so smoothly, but this time…

“Angel… you told us that you had to focus on eating this year.  So you couldn’t get distracted by everything else, so you could concentrate on taking care of yourself and making yourself strong.  But all we did was make you hungry and miserable all the time, and now you’re dressing in rags and lying to everybody… Angel try to remember.”  He reached up with one hand to cup Angel’s cheek.  Angel leaned into the warm touch, closing his eyes against the pain in Peter’s face.

“You told us that if we could make you forget about the world outside the border, that you’d be content, and not feel rejected or left out while the others worked.  It was your job to stay here, to focus on yourself and to get strong.  But look at you.  You’ve forgotten what you’re supposed to be doing, you don’t remember who you are.  You’ve forgotten that you are a fierce and powerful force… and, god, you forgot that I love you…”

“I do remember, I do!  I remember you love me,” Angel said quickly, grabbing Peter’s face and kissing him hard, not because he remembered, but because he couldn’t bear the sound of Peter’s broken voice.  He only wanted Peter to be happy, couldn’t stand the idea that he had made the man feel sad.

Peter wrapped one arm around Angel’s waist and pressed their bodies together.  Angel moaned at the sensation and willingly opened his mouth to Peter’s kiss. 

Maybe it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t remember.  He certainly wasn’t the first person to come to the Lavern Center to pay Dr. Cyprian to take terrible memories away, only to be extremely confused afterwards because they couldn’t remember what they had paid for.  Maybe he was even one of the wealthy clientele… (but he suspected he was more likely one of Peter’s charity cases.)  But he knew one thing, he wasn’t going to argue endlessly about it.  Year after year he had watched Laura-Bee argue patiently, then not-so-patiently, as she made her annual pilgrimage to the secret library behind Peter’s office where the reports were locked away.  That was the place for everyone else who had benefited from the Memory Therapy, but not for her.  She had never even been to that room.  Had never seen it before.  

Once a year she went to that room, arguing all the way.  Once a year she sat down to listen to Monica read all the things that had been written down for her.  Once a year she had to remember that she had never been BORN Laura Foster, but legally changed from Hortense Lovelace to Laura Foster-Beeker, the day she turned 18.  All because of something horrible that her father had done, a memory she had chosen to give up completely, a memory she never wanted returned.

And he could do the same, couldn’t he?  Ask to go to the locked file cabinets to see what he had written down, to see what he had forgotten. 

But not just now.

Just now he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck (and all but wrapped one leg around his waist) and pressed his entire body against Peter’s hard, solid form.  He didn’t feel ragged or shaky or hungry when he was with Peter.  He felt safe and warm and strong.

Just as strong as he felt during the Great Ceremony, he was sure of it.  The one day a year that four disciples were back at the homestead at the same time, Matthew Mark Luke and John, Matty and Sarah D and Doctor Wickham and Monica, each a powerful magician in their own right, each with multiple spirits at their command.  Along with Peter and Laura-Bee they would sing their way through the spells, adding their voices to the beautiful, practiced harmonies that the second circle magicians had prepared for the occasion.  For hours they would sing until the sky was full of fairy lights, until their spirit-servants were vibrating in a counter melody until the whole forest rang with power and promise.   He remembered… how the singing would last long into the night, even after the moment of the solstice was over, even after seals were recast, even after each task was done.  How they would continue singing for the sheer joy of it, for nothing other than the pleasure they felt when they stood and created together.   How they would promise each other, NO REALLY this time they meant it, that they would come together more than once a year. Reveling in the sheer power that they had when they stood side by side, when they joined their voices together.

The Great Ceremony, that was due in less than a week.  That’s why they were saying good-bye to each other.  That’s why…

“We came here and you kissed me good-bye,” Angel murmured against Peter’s mouth.  Then he pulled away a little, looking around the moonlit hills.  That’s who he had been looking for, that was his memory.  The tall, strong man was Peter.  Peter was holding Angel in his arms.  They had come to the lake for a private moment alone before the ceremony.  He had been seeing the memory of them.

“Did we?” Peter said, his forehead creasing in concentration even as he smiled.  “Oh yes, we did.  That was two years ago.  We should do it every year. I love kissing you here.

“Angel,” he said, bringing his hands up again to cup Angel’s face.   “John and I will study the spell and we will absolutely do it right next time.  You can’t ever forget that I love you.  Of all of them, you’re the only one who ever says it back to me, and I treasure it.  You can’t understand how much I treasure it.  It means so much to me, precious.  I don’t think you know how much I love you.”

“But you don’t,” Angel said, even as Peter brought their mouths together again.

“You don’t love me.”  His arms were too weak to push a strong man like Peter with any force, but he did his best.  He pushed Peter away from him as hard as he could, fighting back the tears.

“You don’t love me, you love him.”

“What the… the hell?” Peter stammered, angry and baffled.  “What is this about?  You’ve never once had a problem with… wait… love who?”

“You love him.  You love Dr. Cyprian.”

If he weren’t so distraught Angel would have laughed at the face Peter made now.  It was comical.

“I love… Tony?  This is about Tony?  You can’t really…”

He stopped himself short and shook his head, hard.  It was a gesture Angel knew too well… it meant that Peter was looking at a long, pointless argument and deciding to skip past it and get to the end.

 “Yes,” he said decidedly.  “I love Tony.  He’s the first man I ever loved.  He’s my Significant Other, my David.  He’s my husband, Angel.  He’s my whole world, and not just because he’s the only reason why any of this works,” he said, throwing his hands out and gesturing around him at the lake, the forest, the moonlight.  “He’s my whole world because he is my best friend, and I HAVE to talk to him… I have to talk to him tonight.  I have to make the biggest decision of my life, and… look!” he said with a painful laugh.  “I’m here!  I’m here, at the center of it all, in the place where I always make the big earth-shattering life-changing decisions!  Except he's gone so he isn’t here to tell me what he thinks! 

“I have to go back and tell the others, Angel.  I have to tell them what Princess Shuri wants me to do and I can’t tell them until I talk to Tony and instead of talking to him I’m standing here arguing nonsense with you.  We’re going back now.  We’re going back and we’re finishing the ritual and when it’s over you’ll understand.” 

“Not yet we’re not,” Angel said boldly, stepping into Peter’s arms and kissing him hard.  Maybe he had been fearless once, just like Peter said.  He certainly felt fearless now as he shamelessly reached down and cupped Peter’s erection, working it with skillful fingers.  He remembered, now.  Remembered that this powerful man, the man that commanded all of them, humans and spirits alike…

…this man was his lover.  Only a week ago, just before they had left for the Kenyan Consulate, Angel  had crept into Peter’s bed and gotten everything he had asked for.  And it hadn’t been the first time, either.  More than once Peter had given in to him when he begged… and oh… what Peter gave him was so sweet.

Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 12- The Dark Secret and The Road to Fjellby

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It’s time for some LORE. Enjoy!

The Valley of the Living Rock was quite peaceful at this time of night. The aurora above lit up the stones and moss as Kristoff and Sven made their way through. It was eerily quiet, seeing as it was at least two in the morning. Kristoff pulled the dagger out from the bag and studied it once again. Even in the brilliant light of the aurora, the dagger gave Kristoff an uneasy feeling, like it  was radiating some kind of evil energy. He flipped the dagger to examine the runes on the side of the blade. He wasn’t sure what they meant, but he was certain that the trolls would know. As they approached the center of the valley, Kristoff put the dagger back into his bag and dismounted Sven.

The trolls were curled up into mossy boulders all around the area, loosely scattered amongst the different tiers of stone. Kristoff went to the center of the enclave and knocked on one of the stones. All at once, the trolls began rolling down towards Kristoff, popping out of their boulder states one by one. Bulda, Kristoff’s troll mother, leaped toward the ice harvester.

“KRISTOFF!” She yelled as her adopted son caught her. Kristoff’s knees nearly gave out from the unexpected weight he had to carry. The other trolls formed around him, asking him all sorts of questions.

“How’s Anna? Is the wedding still on?”

“We heard about the assassination attempts, are Elsa and Anna alright?”

“Has Sven been eating well? He looks a little thin for a reindeer his size.”

“I passed another kidney stone.”

“Guys, guys,” Kristoff said as he put Bulda back down, “I missed you all too, but I’m here for something a little important. Is Grandpabbie awake?”

“Ah, good to see you again, Kristoff,” Grandpabbie walked up to Kristoff with a warm smile, “What brings you back here?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could identify something for me. Looked like something you’d know about.”

“Oh? I suppose we could help. What is it?”

Kristoff reached into his bag and produced the dagger. All at once, the trolls gasped and took a massive step back, hushed whispers filled the valley. Cliff, Kristoff’s adopted father, rolled forward with a look of concern on his face.

“Kristoff, please tell me you didn’t cut yourself on this knife,” He said in a somber tone.

“No. The blade’s incredibly sharp, so I’ve been careful around it. Why?”

“Arendolk… after all these years,” Grandpabbie muttered, his smile turned into shock. Kristoff could see him slightly trembling.

“So you are familiar with it?”

“Unfortunately yes. And the being that resides inside of it,” Grandpabbie raised his hands as he conjured up a miniature aurora. He began shaping it into several people and trolls celebrating and dancing. “A long time ago, magic was much more abundant than it is now. Humans and magical creatures lived in peace and harmony for many generations,” He shifted the aurora to show a tall dark human-like figure, with blood red eyes, shadowy antlers protruding out of its head, and a wicked grin, revealing jagged teeth, “That was, until Skyne, Spirit of the Shadows, led a war that threatened to plunge the world into pure darkness.”

“Why?”

“Skyne hated humans, as much as humans hated him. They feared him and his creations. He hated how they cast away his darkness. All of that anger and hatred boiled over into a bloody conflict.”

The aurora shifted again to show a struggle between humans, trolls, and giants. Skyne was then surrounded by a group of humans and trolls. Kristoff watched in awe and fear as Skyne defeated all of them with ease,impaling one with an inky black tendril from his back and flung him into the others. 

“Fortunately,” Grandpabbie said, shifting the focus onto a large bearded  brute of a man, holding a sword and shield, “Aren the Red, leader of the humans of this region, defeated Skyne and had us imprison the shadow demon in his personal hunting knife.” The aurora shifted yet again to show the tall shadow demon bowing to a group of humans as the trolls cast magic on it. The figure looked to be sucked into the dagger as Aren the Red held it high. Grandpabbie pointed to the runes on the dagger, “These runes spell out Skyne’s name, an old troll magic trick marking this dagger as his prison.”

“So Skyne’s trapped in this dagger?” Kristoff asked, looking down at the blade, “ If he’s stuck in here, he’s no threat, right?”

“I wish that were true… but our magic isn’t as powerful as most others. Skyne’s magic is so strong that it can slightly leak through any spell we put on it. He is able to unleash his magic whenever the blade is bathed in mortal blood. If he were to get even a single drop of magical blood…”

“Skyne would be free… and the world would end…” Bulda interrupted.

Kristoff turned Arendolk around in his hands. This weapon, over thousands of years old, encased a shadow spirit inside of it that had the ability to end the world. He never saw Grandpabbie this terrified of anything before.

“Then it needs to be destroyed!” Kristoff picked up a nearby rock and placed the dagger on the ground.

“KRISTOFF, NO-” Grandpabbie shouted. As soon as the stone struck the blade, a blast of magic energy knocked Kristoff into a nearby wall. Sven dashed over to his companion with concern on his muzzle. Groaning, Kristoff slowly propped himself up onto Sven, gripping the reindeer’s fur.

“Kristoff, I thought I taught you better than to just smack cursed weapons with rocks!” Bulda scolded.

“Ugh… sorry…” Kristoff massaged the back of his neck, trying to rub out the sharp pain that resided there.

Grandpabbie sighed, “It is not so simple to destroy something like Arendolk. Only magic can destroy magic.”

“Then can you destroy it?”

“I wish we could. Our magic is nowhere near powerful enough to destroy Arendolk, and the last of the magic was pushed to the far north after Crusaders purged these lands.”

“That means…” Kristoff’s heart sank.

“Elsa should be able to destroy it!” Bulda declared. All at once the trolls erupted in joy.

“One problem… Elsa’s not in Arendelle anymore.” The valley was filled with gasps and groans.

“What happened?” Grandpabbie asked, “Where is she?”

“She’s heading up to Nordlund tonight. The new personal bodyguard she hired, ‘Derrik’ if that’s really his name, recommended that she hide away for a while.”

“I assume he was the one with Arendolk?”

“Yes.”

Grandpabbie shook his head solemnly. “Then I fear Elsa may be in grave danger. At least you managed to get Arendolk off of him. Who knows what would happen if he had Skyne’s powers at his fingertips.”

“Wait, what?”

“Skyne has been searching for ways to escape his prison for well over a millenia, even resorting to making deals to share his shadow magic with those he thinks can get him closer to his goal. Either this Derrik is incredibly powerful, or incredibly desperate.”

“What should I do with it then?” “You must get rid of the dagger. It must not fall into anyone else’s hands.”

Kristoff nodded and dropped the dagger back into his sack. He hoisted himself onto Sven, said his goodbyes, and darted off back to Arendelle. As he made his way back, Kristoff processed the information Grandpabbie had given him. What would he say to Elsa? The man she was interested in made a blood pact with an ancient shadow demon?He could see her taking that information… rather poorly. 

He was right, “Derrik” wasn’t who he made himself out to be! Lying bastard! He thought. Kristoff needed to get to Elsa quick, she’s in-

No he thought, I can’t leave Anna, she doesn’t deserve to be alone again. Besides, without Skyne, he can’t be that much of a problem for someone like Elsa.

XXXXXX

Eryn was surprised with how mountainous the north of Arendelle was. He had never been past the capital, so this was new territory for him. For miles all around, large hulking mountains jutted out of the ground into dizzying peaks. It felt like he was traveling through a graveyard of giants.

Elsa gripped herself tightly as Magni pulled them along the trail. Eryn, seeing how distraught she looked, tried finding something to ease her mind.

“Sssso,” he said hesitantly, “What is this town we’re going to again?”

“Fjellby,” Elsa said, trying to mask her worry, “the provincial capital, just beyond the North Mountain.”

“What’s so important about this region that it needs so many soldiers anyway?”

“The mountains around here are rich in gold. They’ve been funding Arendelle for years, since the days of my grandfather, King Runeard.”

Yes, and it’s because of this foul province that our homes in the south have been suffering! Eryn thought, gripping Magni’s reins tightly.

“And these bandit raids, how long have they been going on?” Eryn carefully masked his anger.

“About a year ago. It’s been getting worse over the past few months, so I sent Captain Torvond to look over things for me.”

Eryn’s eyes grew wide, “Y-you don’t mean Linaeus Torvond, do you?” He asked worriedly.

“Oh, you’re familiar with him?”

“I’ve, uh, heard of him…”

“He’s been up here since you came along. Left the same day you saved me and my sister.”

Why did she have to bring that up? Eryn thought, Especially now? Of all the people in Arendelle he wanted to avoid the most, Linaeus was incredibly high on that list. And the fact that he was in Fjellby was a horrid detriment to Eryn’s plans, along with Eryn’s lingering doubts. He silently cursed as something on the mountain range caught his eye. On one of the mountains, a blue, crystal-like palace sat just below the summit, standing out amongst the snowy peaks and rocky grays surrounding it. It shined like a lighthouse amidst a thick fog.

“What is that?” Eryn asked, pointing at the crystalline fixture.

Elsa let out a long groan, “That’s the North Mountain… I made that palace when I fled Arendelle two years ago.”

“Ah, Olaf told me a bit about that ordeal. It sounded rough for you.”

Elsa released the tension in her arms as she let a small smile take over her face. “It was at first. Since then, I’ve been able to look back at it and see how far I’ve come. It feels… good, if I’m going to be honest.”

“That’s good to hear…” Guilt lodged itself in Eryn’s heart. He understood that politicians don’t need good reasons to have someone killed, but he couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone would want Elsa dead. She wasn’t a brutal dictator or a ruthless tyrant like he thought. She was kind. She was caring. She loved her people. Eryn said nothing for a while as he formulated what to say.

“I mean, after the duke sent his guards to kill me, anything can be seen as a plus.”

“Y- wait, the duke did what?!”

Elsa let out a sigh, “I’m sure you’ve heard about the night my powers were revealed?”

“Y-yes.”

“The duke was there that night, doing nothing but perpetuate fear among the people. When I fled to the North Mountain, he sent two of his guards after me to end the eternal winter at any cost.”

“I’m assuming ‘at any cost’ means death?”

“Exactly. After Anna and I unfroze the fjord, I made sure that the Duke paid for his crimes.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask about that. I’ve heard some interesting things about it.”

“Oh, uh, well…”

One retelling of Frozen later… 

“Min Gud! You’ve been locked up in that castle for thirteen godforsaken years?!”

“It was for the best… or so we all thought. It was painful to be separated from Anna and not be able to tell her why. Now, I don’t need to hide it anymore!” The queen’s face grew sad, “But… n-nevermind…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…”

“You got all sad for some reason. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” “... I’ll tell you when we get to Fjellby.”

“Is this it up here?”

Elsa looked up at the surrounding area. The town they were in was nestled at the feet of  several mountains. It looked exactly like Arendelle proper, save for the lack of the Arenfjord. Few people were out and about as dawn steadily crept over the mountains, filling the town with trickles of light. In the center of the town laid a large statue of a valiant king holding a sword, pointing northward, as if he were commanding the people to keep going north. Just beyond the statue’s sword was a rather impressive looking building, decorated in a similar fashion to that of the castle. On every street corner, an Arendellian guard stood watch, like a disgruntled school teacher.

“Y-yes, this is Fjellby.”

“Excellent,” Eryn said as he maneuvered the cart around the statue, “now all that’s left to do is find a place for the cart and for ourselves. Speaking of ourselves” Eryn quickly glanced around, “where are those two extra guards you told Bjorgman you’d bring along? I didn’t see them the whole trip.”

Elsa gave him a grin as  her face went bright red, “I didn’t bring them.”

Eryn’s eyes went wide, “What?”

“It’s like you said, we can’t let people know who I am. Guards would make it too obvious.”

“Er, right…” Eryn certainly wasn’t expecting that, especially since he gave up the idea of killing her on the road due to fear that they were nearby. That was incredibly dangerous, Eryn thought, she’s not that reckless to forget either. Why did she do that? He shook the thought from his head. Now wasn’t the time to think about that sort of thing. What he needed to do was find the local inn or something and set up for the kill.

It was time to finish the job, as much as it hurt his heart to do so…

XXXXXX

Kristoff peered out onto the docks of the Arenfjord. The early morning sun glistened against the waters like a thousand twinkling stars all the way to the horizon. A few ships were already out on the water, filled with fishermen looking for their next big catch. The town itself was quiet, as most people were still sleeping or just starting to set up shop for the day. Everything seemed peaceful this morning, but Kristoff knew better.

He looked down at Arendolk, scowling at Skyne’s name etched into the side. A being of pure evil laid dormant in this dagger, and it was up to Kristoff to rid the world of it. With all of his might, Kristoff hurled the dagger into the fjord, watching it land in the water with a satisfying PLUNK. Hopefully, he thought as he walked back towards the castle, that’s the last we’ll see of that thing.

As Kristoff entered the courtyard, he stopped by a group of two guards. They both snapped to attention at the sight of the Master Ice Harvester and Deliverer.

“Hey, I need to ask you two for something,” Kristoff said.

“What is it you need, sir?” the younger of the two replied.

“I need you both to head up to Fjellby, locate the queen, and detain Mr. Ormeister.”

Both men looked at him with concern. “Y-yes sir!” They both said as they proceeded to the stables. Seeing them rush off put Kristoff’s mind at ease, albeit for the moment. As he  walked through the main doors into the main hall, he was shocked to see them immediately return with a certain redhead between them. She was dressed in her regular green and black dress and her hair was already in a bun, which surprised him.

“Anna…” Kristoff began, “You’re, uh, up early…”

“Kristoff, did you just tell those men to bring Derrik back here?” Anna said sternly with her hands resting on her hips. Kristoff let out an audible gulp.

“Look, Anna, he doesn’t seem trustworthy to me. I even went to the trolls and-”

Anna pinched the bridge of her nose, “Kristoff Bjorgman, I cannot believe you! Derrik is-” “I just don’t want what happened with Hans to happen again! You two have already been through enough to last a lifetime, I don’t want to see you guys get hurt again.”

Anna let her arms drop and sighed loudly, “I appreciate your concern, and I’m sure Elsa does too, but we’ve already taken that into account. Elsa had his papers checked and everything. She wouldn’t just let some random nobody guard her life, especially someone she just met that day.”

It was now Kristoff’s turn to sigh. He knew there was no point arguing with her at this point. “Okay, I trust you and Elsa’s decisions.”

Anna walked up to him and kissed his forehead, “Sorry we didn’t tell you that before, things were just happening so quickly that we-”

“It’s fine. I understand.” He placed his lips onto hers, embracing her warmly. “I’m sorry I went behind your back,” he said, breaking the kiss. Anna gave him a seductive grin.

“I know a way you can make that up to me,” she purred in his ear. Kristoff’s face lit up instantly.

By God, did he love this woman.

Good Morning Lads

I just thought of a possible plot to Deltarune’s full story and broke my own heart.

The demo? Monday. You go to the dark world every day until Friday. Every day you take a new companion from the classroom with you; Tuesday it will probably be Noelle, Wednesday it might be Jockington or Berdly or that cat on her phone whose name I can’t remember off the top of my head, and so on and so forth. Every time you bring in a new party member the Dark World will have changed drastically and will present you with a series of challenges that ultimately have symbolic relevance to your lightener party member’s life. For example, if Noelle joins your team, it’s likely the Queen will arrive to fight at the end of it all, which addresses the fact that Noelle has a lot of trouble with her mother. Unlike the King, however, the Queen will likely be more reasonable, and it will probably be something Noelle says that finally dissuades her of her crusade. Then, yadda yadda yadda, everyone cheers and breaks open champagne bottles, the day is saved once again, you seal up the fountain, you go home.

Of course, all the while, you’re gathering little bits and pieces about Dark World lore. Why are the kings so alright with being locked away? Why does the dark world change so much? What exactly were the darkeners supposed to do for the lighteners? Is there a reason the dark world presents itself only to those desperately in need of a turn around in their life? You can explore as far as being right next to the answers, but not quite having them. In all your investigation you find out that there’s someone pulling the strings behind it all. Someone who exists between worlds...

But Kris doesn’t care. And a word about Kris---they and Ralsei are the only constants in The Dark World. Of course, we all know exactly why that is: Kris is having problems without Asriel around, lashing out in strange and frightening ways. Ralsei is a temporary substitute for Asriel. He doesn’t come close to the real thing: No, never; but he’s the best Kris can have for a companion. Each time Kris goes to the dark world Ralsei helps them become more and more independent in their life without Asriel.

In all this complicated mess there’s only one thing that remains simple: Your daily playdates with a little skeleton called Papyrus. He’s younger than Kris in this game, young enough to be in Toriel’s class (Though he’s probably just a year away from graduating into Alphys’s class.) Every day you go over to Sans and Papyrus’s house and you play superheroes or racecars or spaceman with him, and all the while you talk about your favorite foods, your favorite games, your family...your memories. And you get just the barest impression that maybe, just maybe, these skeletons aren’t as happy as they’re letting on.

Finally Friday rolls around, the big pompous grand finale. You guide the final classmate through the dark world, they work out whatever personal issues they’re going through, the day is saved, the fountain is sealed, the world is safe forever and ever. Even Ralsei says something to the effect of “We’re okay now. The time of heroes is coming to an end. I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together, but...I think you’re ready to go on without me, Kris.” And it’s all one big emotionally satisfying moment, because you know the inhabitants of the dark world are safe. If you were playing as Frisk or Chara, they would be fine with this ending. They saved the world, they can go home happy...but then, you’re not, are you? You’re playing as Kris. The one who knows exactly what it feels like to be pulled by puppet strings. Yes, the inhabitants of the dark world are safe. But they are not yet free.

So comes Saturday. Picture this for a moment with me: Kris wakes up far, far too early. 5am, perhaps. It’s storming outside. The orange leaves on the trees are nearly fallen off to give way to black bark. The town is silent. Empty. ...abandoned. Kris makes their way to the school without any input from the player, and with three strong hits, they break the locked doors wide open. You regain control of Kris for a moment, and you can go to each of the classrooms one last time for some extra dialogue, but ultimately you know what must be done. With no hesitation, Kris goes into the Janitor’s closet, and, as if practiced, jumps down.

The dark world, too, is far too empty and quiet. The areas you went through on each day now seem to have...melted together? A horrible amalgamation, a corruption of what was once pure and good, as if the entire place is screaming “You should not be here.” Finally you reach the castle, the final sanctity of sanity, and at the top floor you face your foe...

...

Papyrus?

No. No, this can’t be right.

Even Kris is taken back by the little boy’s presence. When he turns around, he looks tense, and not a little bit scared. Instantly you’re in a fight with him. The most difficult fight you’ve had so far. He’s silent all throughout. Kris ACTs over and over again, trying to get him to explain why he’s here, what he’s doing, is he the puppet master?! ...after several rounds he finally says something.

“...THIS IS ALL JUST A GAME. THAT’S ALL IT’S EVER BEEN. YOU KNOW THIS.”

“MY DAD...HE KNOWS THIS BETTER THAN ANYONE. HE’S THE ONE WHO MAKES ALL THESE GAMES AFTER ALL.”

“DON’T YOU SEE? IF I DON’T KEEP PLAYING ALONG, HE’LL RESET EVERYTHING.”

“HE’LL CRUMBLE UP THIS WORLD LIKE PAPER AND THROW IT IN THE TRASH, AND THEN HE’LL JUST DRAW A NEW ONE. LIKE THIS ONE DIDN’T EVEN EXIST.”

“...AND WE’LL BE ALL ALONE AGAIN. ALL ALONE WITHOUT YOU, KRIS.”

“AND THAT’S NOT ALL---KRIS, HE’LL GO AFTER YOUR FAMILY TOO!”

“HE’LL GO AFTER YOUR DAD AND YOUR MOM, A-AND...AND ASRIEL, TOO. HE’LL DO SOMETHING TERRIBLE TO ASRIEL IN THE NEW WORLD.”

“SO JUST GO!!!”

“LEAVE!!!”

“...”

“PLEASE, KRIS...YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON WHO’S EVER LISTENED TO ME.”

“YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON WHO’S EVER PLAYED WITH ME.”

“I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU...”

“PLEASE...I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE AGAIN...”

His attacks get weaker and weaker as he starts to break down, until finally he collapses. Kris, without any input from the player, goes up to Papyrus and hugs him. They stay like that for a little while, then the little skeleton pulls away and wipes his face. Kris and Papyrus both agree to stand up to the people controlling them, together. So this time, instead of sealing the dark fountain, you actually step inside of it.

From there you’re transported to a completely black room. You have to wander around for a little while before you find a computer---just an ordinary computer, at first, but when you interact with it---

The world turns off.

The world turns back on.

Dr. W.D. Gaster stands in front of you instead.

Of course from here you have a battle, and I’m sure Gaster does a lot of infodumping on why exactly he resets world after world and all that, and Papyrus stands up to him and says why this isn’t right, but even if I knew the Good Doctor’s motives, I wouldn’t want to spoil them, nor do I really have the energy to even really do so right now. All I know is, during the fight, your control over Kris gets weaker and weaker as they start to take their body back. Your choices from there are to try and keep controlling Kris, or to take a step back and let them have their freedom. Either way, Kris eventually wins out. Naturally, depending on how hard you fought, what Kris says to you afterwards changes, but after all is said and done, both you and Gaster are pulled away from the strings. Kris then releases you, the SOUL, to go off into the wild blue yonder...

The final cutscene shows how each of your companions are changing their world in little ways. Things aren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but nothing is ever completely perfect. Susie is shown in some nicer clothes, eating a ham sandwich with Noelle by her side. Noelle and Rudolph are shown talking to Noelle’s mother. (I’m not sure who the other companions will be but whatever they are and their issues are we’ll yadda yadda them.) Papyrus is shown playing superheroes with other kids his age while Sans watches on the stairs. Kris gets the most screentime, of course. They’re sharing a pie with Toriel when there’s a knock on the door---it’s Asgore. Toriel reluctantly lets him in. Asgore apologizes for harassing her before and thanks her for letting him visit. She sighs and says something to the effect of “Yes, well. We both love Kris. One visit on their behalf is not so bad I suppose. But I do expect you to stop sending flowers.” They share pie a little longer, and there’s another knock on the door. “I wonder who that could be...? Kris, do you mind answering it?”

A few beats as Kris goes to answer the door. When it opens...Asriel stands there.

“Hey, mom. Hey, dad. Hey, Kris. Am I too late for pie?”

Roll credits.

☰ Subscribe StyleGroomingBest StuffCultureFitnessTravel & EatsPoliticsVideo Subscribe GO Colin Kaepernick Will Not Be Silenced men of the year Colin Kaepernick Will Not Be Silenced  BY  THE EDITORS OF GQ PHOTOGRAPHS BY  MARTIN SCHOELLER 4 hours ago He's been vilified by millions and locked out of the NFL—all because he took a knee to protest police brutality. But Colin Kaepernick's determined stand puts him in rare company in sports history: Muhammad Ali, Jackie Robinson—athletes who risked everything to make a difference. In 2013, Colin Kaepernick was on the cover of this magazine because he was one of the best football players in the world. In 2017, Colin Kaepernick is on GQ's cover once again—but this time it is because he isn't playing football. And it's not because he's hurt, or because he's broken any rules, or because he's not good enough. Approximately 90 men are currently employed as quarterbacks in the NFL, as either starters or reserves, and Colin Kaepernick is better—indisputably, undeniably, flat-out better—than at least 70 of them. He is still, to this day, one of the most gifted quarterbacks on earth. And yet he has been locked out of the game he loves—blackballed—because of one simple gesture: He knelt during the playing of our national anthem. And he did it for a clear reason, one that has been lost in the yearlong storm that followed. He did it to protest systemic oppression and, more specifically, as he said repeatedly at the time, police brutality toward black people. When we began discussing this GQcover with Colin earlier this fall, he told us the reason he wanted to participate is that he wants to reclaim the narrative of his protest, which has been hijacked by a president eager to make this moment about himself. But Colin also made it clear to us that he intended to remain silent. As his public identity has begun to shift from football star to embattled activist, he has grown wise to the power of his silence. It has helped his story go around the world. It has even provoked the ire and ill temper of Donald Trump. Why talk now, when your detractors will only twist your words and use them against you? Why speak now, when silence has done so much? At the same time, Colin is all too aware that silence creates a vacuum, and that if it doesn't get filled somehow, someone else will fill it for him. In our many conversations with Colin about this project, we discussed the history of athletes and civil rights, and the indelible moments it called to mind, and we decided that we'd use photography—the power of imagery and iconography—to do the talking.  By the end of the 1960s, Muhammad Ali's stand against the Vietnam War—he'd marched in Harlem with the Nation of Islam after he was drafted and refused to serve—resulted in him being locked out of his sport for three years, at the peak of his talent, much as Colin is now. He continued to train throughout that period, waiting for his chance to return to boxing. He was known for jogging in the streets, and kids would chase him—the People's Champ, boosted in his darkest days by the joy of his truest fans. That's why we decided to photograph Colin in public, in Harlem, among the men, women, and children he is fighting for. To connect him to a crusade that stretches back decades. And because Colin has spent a year as a man without a team, we worked with him to assemble a new one: ten of his closest confidants—artists, activists, academics, and one legend of the civil rights movement—who shared with GQ what Colin's protest means to them, and what we all should do next.  Ava DuVernay Filmmaker, Selma, 13th, and 2018's A Wrinkle in Time I see what he's done as art. I believe that art is seeing the world that doesn't exist. A lot of people excel at creativity—making TV, movies, painting, writing books—but you can be an artist in your own life. Civil rights activists are artists. Athletes are artists. People who imagine something that is not there. I think some folks see his protests, his resistance, as not his work. Not intentional. Not strategic. Not as progressive action. As if this was just a moment that he got caught up in. This was work. This is work that he's doing. The last time I saw him was the night after Trump called him out at the Alabama rally. It was a really dynamic weekend. I had dinner with him and Nessa [Kaepernick's partner]. To be able to sit with that brother on this particular day—on the day between two historic cultural moments that swirled around him—was shape-shifting for me. Being able to observe that and witness his stillness and wisdom—I'm just really honored to know him. He's sitting there and I'm sitting there and I'm like, "Look at this brother—he's doing better than any of us would've done." A lot better. With a lot more elegance. Carmen Perez Activist, executive director of The Gathering for Justice, which addresses mass incarceration and child incarceration What I always tell people is, I could teach you about the law, I could teach you about the criminal-justice system—but I can't teach you how to have heart. We don't need a movement full of experts. We need people who care deeply to stand up and offer what they have, because there's a role for everyone. You make music? Make some for the movement. You cook? Organizers need to be fed. You teach self-defense or yoga? Help people heal. You're an athlete? Use your platform to raise awareness. It's not about everyone trying to become the next Martin Luther King Jr., because he had clergymen and journalists and artists like Harry Belafonte. It's about how we connect to our neighbor and offer our skill set. As Mr. Belafonte has said: Don't pay me back—pay it back to the cause. I want people to understand that even if incarceration doesn't personally impact you, or police brutality doesn't personally impact you, you can still be involved. How can we show these mothers who are suffering that we love them and we care about them? I often ask: Can we see our liberation bound to one another's? I'm a proud Mexican-American and Chicana who deeply believes that black lives matter and that once black people are free, then my people will be free.  Colin Kaepernick walks tall on the streets of Harlem. Jacket by Harlem Haberdashery / Turtleneck and tuxedo pants by Waraire Boswell / Watch by Cartier / Necklaces, his own  J. Cole Rapper Colin and I met years ago. I am—I was—a big 49ers fan. I met him during his breakout season. I actually went to the first game he really played in, against the Jets. I just happened to be at that game. It hit another level for me the second I learned he was taking a knee. And it wasn't just that—it was when I saw the shit he was saying in the interviews when they pressed him about it. His answers were just so clear and potent. Like, right on point. And he wasn't backing down. And he wasn't afraid. He was just being honest. And it didn't seem like he was looking for attention. It caught me off guard because, you know, nothing personally against him, I just didn't know when I met him that the person with the biggest balls in sports would be him. You're talking about a guy in his athletic prime, who's lived his whole life dreaming about playing football at a level that millions of kids dream to get to. And in his first big season, he takes his team to within five yards of winning a Super Bowl. But then, at some point in time, he becomes conscious about what's happening in the world. And suddenly something that he's been doing blindly for his whole life—standing for the national anthem—now feels uncomfortable. Why? Because now it feels phony! It feels like, Man, how can I stand for this thing when this country is not holding itself true to the principles it says it stands for? I feel like we're lying. And look what happens to him. Had he not done that, this guy would be making millions of dollars right now. Period, point blank. And more important than the money, he was living his dream. He sacrificed his dream.