#but also gave him a room in his new estate identical to his old room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 3 years

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

full masterlist - fic masterlist

After her successful debut into the ton, Celaena Sardothein was much in demand.

The Hamel townhouse saw a constant stream of callers; many a gentlemen fawned over the charming, eligible heiress and many a visiting lady came with the intention of recruiting this new addition to their circles as a prospective bride to their own brothers and sons. Despite her determination to laugh off compliments and insults alike - or perhaps because of it - it was not long before she was declared at par with the most eligible debutantes of the season. How this distinction pleased the lady herself could not be discerned but regardless of whether or not she liked it, she was the talk of the season and invitations to exclusive events poured in. When she accepted an invite ti the Stanhope's dinner party, the rumor mill worked and it was not long before word reached Lord Fenrys Ashryver.

"This is all pointless," muttered James Galathynius to his cousin with a pinched expression on his face.

Lord Fenrys stared at him through the mirror, sprawled as he was on James' bed.

"Really, Fen," the incensed man tried, "I know how you miss my sister—we all do but I wish you would not raise your hopes again. It is simply not possible—"

"I know the last time we found a lead, it turned out to be a dead end," said Fenrys sharply, "but it's different now. I saw her. I am not so far gone in my grief that I won't recognise the girl whose portrait I see in your father's study every day, even if she has grown up quite a bit."

"She died in the fire."

"How do you know?" The familiar arguement from last week rose to the surface. "It could have been anyone! The anklet we retrieved from the little girl's body was the only evidence of her identity."

"The anklet, a man's body beside the girl's, the warehouse's distance from our estate, it was all too coincidental."

"I think our parents might have been wrong, Jem - it could have been a misunderstanding for all we know," he tried patiently, attempting to keep the frustration with his cousin out of his voice or expression. "There can be no harm in meeting her anyway, she still is the Hamel heir after all and I know you wanted an introduction; once you see her, you will know why I am so sure."

"If you insist, I will meet her," said James. "I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

James regarded his cousin. "I hate to say this, Fen—"

"Then don't."

"—but it could be an impostor too. My sister had a significant inheritance, and father recently changed his will. Aelin's assets—"

"Aelin's assets, whatever they are, can be nothing compared to the Hamel fortune."

James frowned, knowing he was backed into a corner. "If we are, I should like to inquire into her background as evidence."

Evidence.

Fenrys wondered if he meant evidence against his claims or to support them but he readily agreed that it was the wisest course. Promptly, a note was sent to his solicitor to make discreet inquires about the Hamel business, the owner and his adoptive daughter. The solicitor, Mr Stone, was a competent man and it took less than two hours to provide the basic information: the Hamel's townhouse address, their rumoured income, her dowry and the stories around Miss Sardothein's 'adoption.'

"She isn't Arobynn's adoptive daughter like everyone assumed then?"

Mr Stone said, "Arobynn did adopt her, to be sure, but only on papers. Arobynn found her in the slums of London when she was but five, and persuaded the Rhunns—who have long been his dearest friends and loyal clients—to take her in. By all accounts, it looks like he took an active interest in her education but it was the Rhunns who raised her until Arobynn amassed for himself a big enough fortune, bought an estate or two in the countryside and took her in."

"How old is she now, do you know?"

"The young lady is eighteen or around, sir, though no one can be sure."

Fenrys shot a look at his cousin.

"And what can you tell us about the Rhunns, Mr Stone?" asked James.

"Nothing good, sir."

The cousins shared a look.

"Thomas Rhunn was a country gentleman until he lost his estate in gambling and like. He has been the Hamel Corporations' prime investor since it was founded some twenty years ago—that's where his fortune comes from," said he. "You will be interested in the bank records, sir, I think—he, uh, he gets an yearly sum of five thousand pounds every year from an anonymous account since 1798."

"The year they adopted Miss Sardothein?"

Neither cousin mentioned it was also the year Aelin had 'died.'

Mr Stone went on. "It is my belief, sir, that the money was for raising the young lady - the timing certainly matches - but it is not one of Arobynn's shell accounts."

"So you think someone else is paying the Rhunns to raise her?"

"I am."

"Their financial situation," James wondered how he should broach this, "Do you think they might employ deceit to secure wealth or position?"

Fenrys gave him an annoyed look.

Mr Stone, thoughtfully said, "Thomas Rhunn is a clever sort of man, sir, but too lazy for something so devious and his wife—a more insipid, unintelligent creature doesn't exist. The daughter, though, she is an ambitious one like her godfather." He hesitated, but the gentlemen looked so interested, he continued. "But I—I think, from what I heard, she is devoted to her trade and quote adept at it. I could not believe her capable of deception to achieve that."

The gentlemen sincerely thanked him for the information and he departed.

Fenrys turned to him. "So?"

"So?"

"So did you see the many proofs?"

"I didn't see any proofs, Fen. So she's the same age as our Aelin and she was adopted."

"The same year as Aelin disappeared!"

James frowned. "That doesn't mean—"

"Yes, it does." Fenrys huffed, more hopeful than ever. "To quote your own words, 'tis too much of a coincidence.'"

He fell silent, eyes shut and took a deep breath. "It's too much. If she is—If she didn't die, you know what it means? Edward has been a shell of himself all these years, my father—he is, he is on his deathbed and Aedion joined the army—he is on the continent somewhere and we might never see him! All those years we lost grieving, and she might never have been dead. None of us even thought to look! If we had, If I had... perhaps she would have been found sooner? But no, I wish to see her first. I will not worry about all that until I am sure."

Fenrys placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it will be hard and I am sorry for the years you wasted," said he with a calm, reassuring smile, "but all is not lost. If tis really her, your father could see her and know she is alive before he passes, Edward could finally let go of his guilt and have his sister back—he might even die of happiness—and we will call Aedion back; he will come once he hears she is back. Tis not too late to fix everything and save the years we all still have left."

"If it is her."

"I hope, that is, I really hope that it's her."

"Indeed." James nodded. "I hope so too."

"You said she is here?" Lady Perrington looked faintly scandalized.

James rolled his eyes as the crowd turned to look at the doors where a tall, blonde woman stood on the arm of a red-haired man. The room broke into furious whispers.

Beside him, a lady—Mrs Evans, perhaps?—tittered with a companion. "My George said she is not even legally adopted, you know? You don't stand that close to your godfather." This was meant to be a whisper but her voice was too nasally, the words carried over the room and people shared alarmed looks as the object of this conversation walked towards them. The woman kept talking, entirely unaware, "I could never countenance the very thought that she is to inherit a trade empire. All of her dowry will not find her a suitor if she acts like a man."

Miss Sardothein stopped in front of them. "My dear Mrs Evans! I am so grateful for your concern for my marriage prospects." Both ladies tilted his head curiously. She pressed on. "You of all people will understand the importance of caution, I am certain." Her back was towards him but he heard the smile on her face as she spoke. "Is dear Mr Evans' gout any better now?"

James choked on his drink and sputtered. Fenrys winked at him from across the room.

Mrs Evans' face turned red.

Lady Perrington jumped to her friend's rescue. "Miss Sardothein, why, it is such a surprise to see you here! Lady Stanhope has certainly been," here, she pursed her lips and then, commented in a suggestive tone, "liberal in her choice of guests. Your godfather," she nodded towards that gentleman, "is in trade, I hear. Pray, what kind of trade, can you tell?" The guests had all abandoned their own conversations in favour of eavesdropping on this one. Lord Stanhope looked torn between amusement and alarm while his wife openly and unattractively gaped at the spectacle.

Miss Sardothein lifted a hand to dismiss the enquiry. "Oh, I can never talk business on social events but you may ask your husband at your leisure. Lord Perrington regularly invests in many of our ventures." Though the lady's back was turned to him, her voice was fierce.

"Such a devious creature," a familiar voice remarked.

Rowan greeted his cousin with a nod before fixing his eyes back on the drama unfolding in front of them.

Lady Perrington was looking around in search of allies among the onlookers but when no one stepped forward, she inclined her head, her face colored. "Indeed, I shall," she said and hastily excused herself.

Mrs Evans followed suit, eyes firmly on the floor and James almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Before his apparent sister—how he scoffed at that notion—could turn, Rowan approached at her side. It was rare indeed that the dour man approached anyone first and never so readily. The novelty of that alone occupied his attention.

"Miss Sardothein." He bowed.

She curtsied with a smile. "Mr Whitethorn." Another man approached with a lady on his arm. "Lord Fenrys! I did not know you would be in attendance."

Lord Fenrys bowed over her hand. "I came as soon as I heard you were attending." She laughed at the gallantry—a sweet, tinkling laugh that caught his attention and he again ignored his heart's nagging— and he turned to introduce his companion. "Allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, Doranelle and his wife, Mrs Lyria Whitethorn." Fenrys' dark eyes glinted and he smiled charmingly, letting a loose lock of hair fall on his forehead.

"I have already met Mr Whitethorn." Celaena smiled at the woman, then with a less pleasant expression towards the woman. "Mrs Whitethorn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

James had met Mrs Whitethorn barely once or twice in his life and only in passing. He had expected a genial creature, if perhaps a little reserved like her husband but she looked like a simpleton.

Though the fabric of her clothes was expensive and the stitching perfect, but the colour was dull and did no favours to her sallow complexion. Her neck remained unadorned and she wore no necklaces, bracelets or earrings, a fact made more pronounced by the tight modest bun she wore her dark hair in. By her appearance, she seemed more suited to a nunnery than to a fancy dinner party as the wife of a gentleman of rank. She exchanged curtsies and shared greetings but otherwise showed no inclination to converse and hastily excused herself as soon as was polite.

Rowan stood where he was, brooding, stiff as a board when the tradesman's daughter addressed him. "I thought you would be happy here, at least, for you detest balls but you are scowling still."

Rowan said stiffly, "I detest social events."

"Even when you don't have to dance?"

"Even then."

"I should like to hear why."

"I doubt you would understand."

"Come now, sir," said she smilingly, "Do not insult my intelligence by assuming that. Tell me and I might."

"It is not that. I—I do not—you will laugh but I hardly ever know what to say and often give offense where it is not intended." He turned to her. "You cannot have any such problem."

She arched an eyebrow in question.

He said, "You are too lively and charming, you could not possibly manage it."

"And people are too apt to forgive a pretty face in general," she agreed.

His lips twitched. "You claimed you were not a fan of convention earlier but I see you have no love for modesty either."

"For false modesty, I do not. I freely acknowledge vanity to be my chief sin." Then, she paused, "Your wife is, she is terribly shy, I think, but I hope you will not trouble yourself so much on her manner."

"I would say she is more unwilling than shy," said he with uncharacteristic openness. "I hope you were not offended."

"Oh, not at all—"

"Dear cousin," an enthusiastic voice cut through the din of polite conversation in the room, "You must stop monopolizing the lady's time. There is someone I should like to introduce her to—James. James, man, she's here, look. Allow me to present my favourite cousin, Mr James Galathynius of Graceview, Orynth."

James turned to them and bowed politely as she turned.

Then his face paled.

"Aelin." He forced a smile. "Forgive me, that is, you look exceedingly like—"

"Like five-year-old Miss Galathynius? So I've been told before," said she good humoredly.

James blinked disbelievingly. His vision blurred. Blonde hair. Ashryver eyes—that damning feature he thought Fenrys had been exaggerating about and the button nose that both, Aunt Evalin and his mother had shared. His cousin, noticing his preoccupation, engaged Miss Sardothein—nay, Aelin—into animated conversation as one thought after another crashed into his mind.

Thirteen years.

Thirteen years lost in grief and regret.

Thirteen years of seperation when they should have been searching for her.

Aelin grinned triumphantly from atop the maple tree down at her brothers, cousins and friends, dress torn and muddied. Her expression had the tiniest hint of pride as she placed herself on a sturdy branch.

"You shall fall down hurt yourself if you do not climb down, Aelin!" exclaimed Elide fretfully, twisting her muslin dress in evident distress. "And then what will we do?"

"No, no, I never shall," she insisted with a pout. "I can make this my home and you may visit me whenever you would like."

"But you cannot stay up there forever! You would feel hungry," reasoned the ever-responsible Chaol, biting his lip. Barely nine-years-old, he was the first to tattle on his friends when mishaps occured between children as they often do.

"James can bring me food," she declared haughtily, pushing one braid over her shoulder.

James grinned. "And whyever should I? You never do anything for me. I will let you starve a little perhaps. It may teach you a lesson."

"May the devil take you!"

Edward, ever the polite elder brother, reprimanded, "Aelin! That is not the language we may use." He was alarmed when her eyes teared up. "I am sorry, Aelin, love, will you not please come down?"

Aelin sniffed. "You are being mean and I will never talk to you."

"But will you not calm down before our father sees you? You would be punished." He frowned when the little rascal stuck her tongue out. He added, "If you come down, I will convince father to give Mrs Norris a leave for today."

"You promise?"

Edward nodded. "A gentleman's word."

She nodded uncertainly, then looked down and whimpered. "I can't."

Edward groaned, prompting the others to snicker at his expense. He extended his hands towards the tree.

"Climb down," he said, "James or I will catch you if you fall."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do I know he won't let me fall?"

"You are our little sister, Aelin," Edward said resolutely, extending his hands further as James did the same. "He will never let you hurt, I promise."

"A gentleman's word?" This time, her bright eye were trained on James.

He nodded. "A gentleman's word."

But had he not broken his promise? She ended up in a tradesman's family so far from home while everyone thought her dead. A five-year-old alone in the streets of London with no family whatsoever, thought he with growing unease. How terrified she must have been! He turned towards her now.

Her eyes had always been bright and her disposition lively but it was all tempered with a quiet dignified sort of grace. She looked beautiful now, the roundness in her face gone and her sharp features accentuating that inner fire.

His little sister.

As impulsive and easy to provoke as ever and every inch the little terror he remembered, down to the sneaky smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He blinked the tears back into his eyes.

"You would not object, would you, James?" asked Fenrys.

He startled. "Huh?"

"Miss Sardothein here expressed her interest in chess and I thought to invite her for her a game tomorrow in your house." He raised an eyebroe. "Unless you have any prior obligations?"

He did have prior obligations but he would cancel them all. "I would be pleased to have you there."

Rowan frowned, looking between the three of them as if he was missing something. "Is that not... nevermind, but perhaps you should consider bringing your mother along, Miss Sardothein, for propriety's sake?" James cursed the man for his caution. A private visit would be an ideal time to reveal all to her but not if she brought someone along.

Thankfully, she dismissed the idea herself. "I will see if I can get papa to come along but I am a tradesman's daughter, far too involved in the business myself. I am certain my reputation will not suffer for it, unless you mind." Both he and Fenrys assured her that they would not mind at all and James reiterated how sincerely pleased he would be to have her there.

"We will see how pleased you are when I make you eat your dust, Mr Galathynius," she teased with a grin.

James grinned back. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Dear Edward,

I know we are not in the habit of exchanging correspondence as brothers ought but I hope you will forgive me for the presumption. Certain events of note have taken place here recently, such that it necessitated that you be informed immediately. I have a shocking good news to impart:

Our dearest Aelin did not die in the warehouse fire. She is very much alive and well.

By some stroke of luck, cousin Fenrys came across her at a ball and you will be shocked to hear she is the sole heir to the Arobynn Hamel, currently known as Miss Sardothein. He insisted she was our cousin since his first meeting, though I refused to believe him but I met her today and there can be no doubt to her identity. Fenrys invited her to a chess match in the evening tomorrow, where we plan to disclose everything to her. Father has not been informed yet.

Make haste to London, brother.

Yours,

James

Edward Galathynius, the Viscount Milton sat in his armchair, stunned.

He had been the last person to see Aelin. He had stupidly left her alone on the estate grounds that awful day. He remembered his father's panic, his mother's disinterest and his little brother's distress. He had been thirteen years old, back home from Eton for the duration of the summer. He envied James who could look at their childhood—her childhood—with the rose-coloured veil of forgetfulness. James was four when she was born. He would not remember her first steps, her first words, the nights she spent in his bed when she escaped the nursery, her favourite haunts and mischiefs. James would be able to look at their time together without being wrecked with agony because of his grief, the guilt for his blunder, the irrational desire to have her back. James would not dream up variations of that cursed day repeatedly over the years.

"Aelin! Aelin, love, slow down, no, not there, yes, gods, Aelin!" Edward shouted behind her. "Your frock! You look wild—no, stop that, Mrs Norris will faint of horror if you are any more muddied."

Aelin stepped into one mud puddle after another. She sent dirt flying back at her proper, dignified elder brother who pinched his nose in distaste. "Now we are both muddied," said she, grinning over her shoulder. "You can tell her that we didn't see the mud and both slipped."

"And lie to her?" He looked horrified.

Aelin tilted her head, fussing over her hair matted with mud. "Is it a lie if we do it for the greater good?"

"The greater good?"

Aelin nodded, pleased with herself. "Of not letting her faint. She is so thin, I sometimes fear a strong gust of wind will blow her away."

She ran further, bursting into giggles every few minutes and by now, had both of them looking no less than two street urchins. He tried to be stern with her but it was awfully hard to remain angry at someone so determined not to pay attention to a word. He knew better than to scold her, lest she summon her tears. That never failed to make him comply with whatever she asked.

"Aelin, there's a hole there, be careful. Stop running, will you—Aelin!" It was too late.

Her right hand gripped her ankle while the other was on her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle her sob.

Edward frowned as she whimpered in pain. "I told you not to run, no, no, don't cry, darling, it will be fine. I shall call for someone." They had been out on the grounds for a while now and the manor house was far away. She was too heavy for him to carry so far and he did not want to hurt her further.

He patted her cheek affectionately. "There, now, you are a brave girl, and I need you to wait right here. I will run back to the manor and bring help, yes?"

She promised she would not and he hurried back to the house.

The rest of the day remained hazy in his memories. He had arrived back at the spot with his father, a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach to find her gone. Search parties were organised and the merchants, locals and servants were all on alert for the beloved little spitfire. Day faded into night, then night into dawn when an express rider came with a letter from the magistrate and his father left the house in haste. He had chanced a look at his father's letter, his concern for her too great to worry about the impropriety of reading another's letter without permission. The contents read:

Dear sir,

I am afraid I have sad tidings to depart. One of the warehouses outside the town had caught fire the previous night and two lives were lost as far as we can determine. The first—a grown man, in his thirties or forties, has been determined as a local thief—and the second, a little girl, perhaps five or six years old. Her identity has not been confirmed but we retrieved a silver anklet among the remains. I beg for your assistance in identifying the girl's family. Do come as soon as you can.

Yours

Sir Arthur Renard

His heart pounded too loud in his ears. He felt hot and cold at once. He knew why only one ankle was retrieved from the corpse, because he had the other. It had fallen off her leg earlier that day and he had retrieved it with the intention to fix the loose lock on it.

His knees buckled.

"What happened?" James asked.

Edward shook his head, about to tell him not to worry. His words choked up in his throat and he excused himself from company, pale and ashen, his head throbbing. He ran up the stairs to his room, dismissed his valet for the night and slumped onto bed. The same bed he had shared with her on nights when she was spooked by thunder or some horror story Fenrys had related to her earlier that day.

Edward had left her there alone.

He buried his face in the pillow and wept.

Rhoe withdrew into himself after the funeral. Edward found comfort back at university, where no one or nothing would remind him of his loss, where he could avoid his guilt and pain.

Then mother died.

The summer visits to family became rarer and rarer. Father never insisted, retiring into his library, the one place where her presence was most patent and he was all too happy to remain where he was. The distance increased after he left university. His father preferred James' company, who was lively and good-humored and as James preferred the society to be found in London, they made the townhouse their home while Edward ran their country estates.

But now,

She is very much alive and well. His heart would not be satisfied.

He ordered for his horse to be saddled and riding gear prepared. The best of the family suites were to be prepared and aired out. She was alive and well, and soon, she would be back home.

Feeling happier than he had in months, Edward Galathynius spurred his horse onwards, fast as he could, to London.

I know I was supposed to update Cinders first but my brain insisted on rebelling and this is what happened. I will update that one soon tho, and I think you'll like it. 💖

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @aelinchocolatelover // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein //@jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @sanakapoor // @abookishfreak // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @morganofthewildfire // @bellamyblakru // @theilliumbluebell10 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @woollycat22

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #sarah j maas #aelin ashryver #tog fanfiction #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfic #valiant #aelin-queen-of-terrasen

106 notes · View notes

bitchapalooza · 3 years

Text

Hetalia nekotalia headcanons(covering just a few of them)

It seems weird that the cats would just be called "Italy-cat" by the actual nation whose name is already Italy so I wasted my time in figuring out their possible breeds and searching up acceptable names(unless stated otherwise) for them that the nations may pick for them and even where the nations obtained these cats. I think they've come to value these cats on the same level as themselves due to how long they may have been around(the same goes for whatever other pet(s) they may own). I thought this was a fun thing to do and honestly it was! :)

Might do more when I get the time again~

***Tw for mentions of animal abuse***

Americat:

Domestic long hair, possible Maine Coon mix!

I think America adopted his cat in the 1980s. He was just a kitten, abandoned outside a supermarket in a box with a sign with one other kitten inside. At least 2 months old. America, having a big heart and soft spot for animals of any kind, took them both in. However he was already struggling to buy proper food for his other animals so he needed to find a different home for them. America ended up keeping one, as he fell absolutely head over heels for him, and named him Liberty— for obvious personal reasons. America raised him for the majority of his life as an indoor cat but with how much energy he has he decided to train him to be an outdoor cat as well, even teaching him to use the doggy door. This gave him enough room to actually grow faster into the adult cat he is now compared to if he'd ALWAYS be around America(as in staying small due to the slow aging around America).

Canacat:

Domestic longhair, possible Maine Coon mix!

Canada adopted him after America offhandedly asked. Canada was pretty stuck when it came to naming him. It was 4 weeks into owning him, mostly calling him a range of names such as Paul and Rookie but never sticking to one for even one whole day, but when Canada was just sitting there eating breakfast before leaving for his daily duties, just a normal quiet morning it came to him. Again, he was just sitting there. That is until the kitten figured out how to climb onto the chair next to him that is. He sat there meowing and pawing at Canada's thigh for 10 minutes while Canada ate. And then he tried to jump onto the table 3 times in a row. Canada gave in and allowed him up there for a minimum of 3 minutes. Not even 1 second passed and suddenly the little rascal is trying to steal the last couple bites of pancake. That was apparently what he wanted. And so Canada named him Pancake! Pancake was an energetic little kitten that a spring in his step but he did mellow out as he grew into adulthood. He's mainly an indoor cat. Come winter time when it snows, Pancake has a tendency to forget the existence of snow so he goes bolting for it only to regret it later.

Germany-cat:

A black or gray German Rex!

Germany isn't exactly a big cat person, he prefers dogs. But after this kitten followed Prussia's cat all the way home and noticed how thin he was he couldn't resist taking care of him. Germany ended up naming him Maus in reference to how tiny and often silent his meow was as a kitten. Now it's just a hilarious name as he's grown quite big and has a very strong meow! Maus is a very well behaved cat although it seems he doesn't favor being played with. He's most often seen at the top of his cat tower or in the window basking in the warm sun. As he was previously found as a stray outside he still does favor being outside. He tends to escape whenever Germany unlocks the doggy door or when Germany let's the dogs out in the backyard to run around for a bit. Maus may be a very mellow cat but he does tend to be loud when he wants food and doesn't want to wait for it. He also tends to attack people when suddenly being pet.

Prussia-cat:

An albino German Rex!

Prussia adopted him in 1998 after his and Germany's new home became a little overrun with mice. Prussia affectionately named him Gunther. Gunther was a spunky little kitten, in fact he was the runt of 6 other siblings and noticeably different to his siblings in appearance(originally thought to just take after the father's white coat despite the orange coats of his siblings and mother). Prussia chose him, the teeny little runt, after watching him easily sneak up and take down his bigger sister and win the play-fight he started. Prussia proudly took him home and trained him to catch the mice! Some years later, Gunther apparently got curious and brave and got loose outside. He was gone for weeks. He came back with a limp, a fresh scar, and a kitten clinging to his side. Gunther rarely escapes outside anymore. Prussia didn't know Gunther was albino until took he took him to the vet for his shots.

Itabby and Romano-cat:

They're both European shorthairs!

When the Italies were freshly unified and everything was still pretty awkward they were forced to go bond by taking walks every morning. Veneziano didn't mind this, he enjoyed the morning and even more so the countryside around them. Romano however could care less about it all and just wanted his bed back. Veneziano was all conversation, very observant of his surroundings as he commented on them to strike up an interesting conversation. And that's how he noticed a man cruelly stuffing two kittens into a sack on their way out of town. After alerting his brother, the two confronted the man. The man claimed these two were sick because neither were getting any of their mother's milk like the rest. Romano demanded he hand the kittens over or else he'd regret it. Veneziano annoyed him with his whining to the point where he gave in and handed them over quite harshly. Once they got them safely away from the man they took a look at the 1 week old kittens; they were both terribly skinny but clearly hanging on for dear life and the brothers both agreed, for once(well more like Romano kept saying "whatever the fuck you want"), that they wanted to help these poor creatures. Luckily for them they knew a stray cat that just had another litter of 3 and could perhaps try to get her to accept two more. And she did! Well it took a day but she did eventually take them in and feed them. Veneziano immediately decided that once they were old enough to eat solid foods he was going to keep one of them and name him Gino! It took a while for Romano to warm up to the idea of keeping even one but he eventually did. He took the other kitten and named him Sonno. They've lived so long due to just how clingy they are to the brothers. Their aging was so slowed down because of how often they're near the Italies that they didn't become fully grown adult cats until some time around 1932.

Japan-cat:

Japanese bobtail!

Named Yoshi* for being Japan's little lucky charm. Yoshi was left behind by his previous family after they moved away. He left his home and began wandering around until he got to Japan's house. Taking notice of how the cat stuck around his house, Japan began feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And eventually he accepted the idea that he was now a cat owner. Not knowing his previous name, Japan decided to rename him Yoshi. Because of Yoshi, Japan began to come outside more and more each day as he is an outdoor cat that seldomly comes inside anymore. What's more is Yoshi came into his life in 1999, just a few months before 2000— aka when The Lost Decade was coming to an end as well as his personal on and off string of depressive episodes. Japan spoils Yoshi with treats and only the best cat food he can afford!

*The real name given to him by Himaruya is Tama, most likely a reference to calico cat Tama from Kinokawa, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan(that's at least what I've gathered). Before I knew this(in my early fandom days) I headcanoned his name to be Yoshi, as I said above it was a reference to luck(I didn't have as easy and unmonitored access to the internet as I do now so I never had a steady way to look these things up). I like Tama as well but I still can't get the name Yoshi out of my mind! I'm not sure if Yoshi and Tama can be combined like some names here in America can be combined(like Lilian Pad[as in Lily Pad] or Patches Poo) and I don't want to attempt it in case I get it wrong no matter how much research I do.

Austria-cat:

Domestic longhair!

Austria has quite the soft spot for this kitty surprisingly. He was born on his estate after his mother wandered in and settled between a couple bushes in his garden. He was born one of three kittens, almost entirely identical to his mother. Austria ended up giving names to all the cats but this one specifically was named Mozart— for very obvious reasons on Austria's part. The mother cat and two of the other kittens ended up moving along a year later after Austria decided to renovate part of his house; however the only one to stick around was Mozart. Austria would let Mozart come inside if only he could manage to pick him up. Mozart will jump into his lap outside, brush up against him, greet him in the morning, allow him to come near(especially with food and clean water) and even pet him but he won't ever peacefully allow Austria to carry him. Mozart was originally thought to be a Ragdoll however it was France who identified him to be a simple domestic longhair instead.

China-cat:

Burmese cat!

Originally a stray that endlessly bothered a shop owner and his own cat, China attracted his attention when he fed him only once. This cat followed him all the way to the hotel he was staying at not far from the little shop, which annoyed him greatly but honestly gave him a little laugh as well. As his car ride home was only going to be an hour at best he decided to at least attempt to bring the little fella home for proper care and attention. And obviously it worked. On his way home he decided a name like Zhi seemed perfect for him! Something told China Zhi was used to car rides and being around people, which told him Zhi was originally in a loving home. Feeling a little sad that this nice loyal cat was living on the streets he began to pamper him. Now Zhi expects to be brushed twice a day, let out at least once a day to soak in the sun's warmth and lay in the soft grass. He's fed the best food possible, has more toys that he knows what to do with. China's cellphone is overrun with videos of Zhi playing fetch— a trick he didn't teach him which, to him, is further proof he had a previous owner.

Russia-cat:

Siberian cat!

Taken in from a rescue shelter, at first fostered, then adopted. Russia kept the name the shelter gave him, Boris, as it fit him very well considering his past. Boris was unfortunately neglected when his previous owner was around. His fur was matted, he was skin and bones, upon pick up he had an eye infection. He was terribly scared of people. After being treated and showed kindness, it wasn't very long for him to open up. When Russia came along and took him in to give him all the proper attention he lacked, Boris fell in love with it. And Russia fell in love with having a cat around. Before anyone could swoop in and try to adopt Boris, Russia already put in to adopt. Now Boris is a happy healthy cat who's favorite toy to play with is Russia's supply of yarn. Boris loves bird or feather based toys the most, however, and will often drag his favorite feather wand over to Russia so he'd play. He's not much of an outdoor cat but after being kept mostly in a small cage since birth he does enjoy at least laying on the porch outside.

France-cat:

A Sacred Birman with light creamy point colouration!*

Obtained as a newly born kitten in 1992, France had offered to help nurture him as his mother had died shortly after giving birth. France named him Minou, more so in honor of his deceased mother Minet rather than it being a common French cat's name(some assume he was lazy with his naming). Minou grew up to be properly spoiled and loved by France. From the time he could see and walk properly, France began putting light outfits and accessories on him for very small amounts of time(like hats and ties mainly to avoid overheating). Minou often silently greets France at the door whenever he comes home, barreling through the hallway or off the couch in order to get some much needed love and attention. He surprisingly gets along very well with France's pet birds, only ever going after them once as a kitten. Minou can be found in his luxurious cat bed made of cardboard from the cat tower's box and a quilt France had crafted long long ago that's now drastically torn in various places. OR he can be found planting his fanny on France's face at night, nearly suffocating him. Minou seems to have a likeness for Russia and England.

*I know France-cat doesn't have any visible point colorations to him but him being a Persian doesn't fit him in my opinion, especially a blue eyed white cat. There's a high percentage of blue eyed white cats being deaf. However a common trait in Birmans are blue eyes so that, to me, fits better.

Iggycat:

Scottish fold-American shorthair mix!*

Obtained through a small litter from a colleague. England named him Lopsy immediately upon seeing him, completely falling in love with him. Due to Lopsy's health concerns(osteochondrodysplasia) he's strictly an indoor cat. He's not very playful due to the pain he endures so he's prone to lay about, especially in England's lap, in his cat bed that sits directly under the window to reach the sunlight, or under England's bed. Despite being on them for so long, it still takes quite the struggle to give Lopsy his medication as he's come accustomed to when England is preparing to give it to him. As he's not very active, Lopsy isn't too fond of France's, America's, or Canada's cats— all of which tend to love playing together. However there are times when Minou is in non-playful mode where Lopsy will lay near or eat with him, but will absolutely refuse to lay with since Minou does have a tendency to attack another cat's tail without warning.

*The reason I see him as a mix is due to the major health concerns breeding two Scottish folds together can bring. However, breeding a Scottish fold with an American shorthair or British shorthair is often the better choice as there's less issues involved. There's talk about banning the breed all together. Even with this talk, breeding persists, preferably for cat shows from the sound of it. There's even research going into fixing these health concerns but it seems incurable due to the Scottish fold disease seeming to be a very dominant trait no matter what secondary breed it's bred with. Scottish fold disease doesn't always occur in a litter, mostly being a 50% change.

Spain-cat:

European shorthair!

Named Vivo for his lively personality, this little guy was found in the rain, drenched and hungry. He looked to be roughly 3 months old, very well fed and groomed so Spain assumed he had a family he ran away from for whatever reason. Without any other solution, Spain took him in until someone came to pick him up. A few weeks go by without anyone coming to claim him, so Spain opted to keep Vivo. Vivo is very loving, he possess a strong purr and often falls asleep purring. He's a lap cat but also has a tendency to curl up on or near Spain's shoulder when he's on the couch. Vivo is mainly an outdoor cat, often chasing mice or other vermen away from the garden without ever destroying it. Spain is pretty grateful to of found him as it had gotten quiet with Romano gone and all. And Vivo defiantly brought some noise to the house! He's not always vocal but when he is he tends to run around happily meowing for attention. He's surprisingly very territorial however— when introduced with then young kits Gino and Sonno, the Italies' cats, Vivo almost attacked them. It took small steps forward to get the three of them to warm up to each other. It also took a while to warm Vivo up to Minou and Gunther.

51 notes · View notes

poptod · 3 years

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 21

Description: The Hanging Gardens of Babel

Notes: there is an innate human need to be remembered for both accomplishments and person; for those thousands of years from now to look back and know that people have always been human. WC: 6.9k

He'd trained before, but this was different.

For one, he didn't usually have an audience, and second, he didn't usually have to respect his teacher, either. Tall buildings and their shadows that once surrounded them were now turned to dead gardens outside the manor of his employment, acting as a 'private' circle of study surrounded by the half-wall around the property.

He panted as he lifted himself to his feet, taking up his staff once more. The trainer was the head guard, Urtak, a man who Ahk was pretty sure did not like him, and who did nothing to try and negate that belief. Sometimes Ahk would complain about this to you and you'd try to comfort him, but now you just laughed whenever the guard knocked him to his back.

"Come now, Aganu," Urtak said, pacing and slamming the end of his staff against the hard ground, crackling into the dry earth. "Can't expect to protect Ukani's home and guests with this technique."

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk repeated for the fourth time that day, grunting as he jumped up again.

"He is saying you are a pussy!!" You yelled in Egyptian from the servant's quarters' roof.

"Thank you, Yogi," Ahk called sarcastically, a bitter smile on his face.

Ahk cast one annoyed glance in your direction before Urtak's staff was hooking behind his knee again, forcing him to the ground, again. His hands were scratched, red, and dry, irritated further by the rough ground and spiky plants below him. He took a deep breath––or as deep a breath as he could in the dust cloud––and took up his spear once more, facing Urtak with a malice lacing his parted lips. Years spent training would aid him now, but he drew a blank on how to approach his opponent.

Urtak's staff came whizzing down from above, aiming directly for his skull. Instinctively, Ahk whipped his own spear up, dislocating the staff's projectory. The guard tried a couple more times, coming down upon his midsection or legs in hopes of knocking Ahkmen back down to the ground. This time he blocked––though, it did take him a few more moves before he realized he could now parry in return.

Before attempting to strike at his side in any way, or to knock his balance off kilter, he stabbed the blunt end of his staff into Urtak's stomach, punching the breath out of him.

A distant 'WHOOO!' came from behind him and he laughed, glancing to you in time to see your grin and a lute swinging about in your hand. It gave ample distraction that led to Urtak taking revenge in an unconventional manner when it came to staff fights; he punched him in the face.

Ahkmen groaned loudly as he stumbled back, still on his feet but with his hands covering his nose and mouth. Something warm was dripping from his nose, and as he pulled his hands away he found blood, coating his skin in thick drops.

"Aaaaaand," your lute began to play a joyous little tune as you sang, "he get fuck in the face!"

"Those aren't even words!" Ahk yelled back through his laughter.

"Pay attention," Urtak said stiffly, bringing his staff to backslap Ahk's head.

Of course training had to come just when his bruises and aches were healing from falling over a tarp fence taller than his whole body. Now everything was back tenfold, aching from old pain and biting from new. The only good part was that now you were both being paid, meaning you could afford a couple luxuries, such as a lavender healing ointment you found on your way home from the brewery that day.

Ahkmen spent a good deal more of his freetime sleeping than you did, napping beneath the warm, mud roof, but safe from the burning rays of the sun. Birds tweeted about outside, their songs muffled through the thick walls. Flies managed to get inside. To his fortune, no one else was in the servant's quarters, and he could splay out on the biggest bed. He continued to doze in the warmth, resting his creaking joints until footsteps sounded through the dry underbrush, crunching beneath small feet.

"Aganu?" Came your soft voice, your knuckles knocking against the cool, clay doorway.

He let out a muffled moan, regretfully moving himself to sit up straight.

"How've you been, my dear?" He asked, sniffing to clear his still-bloody nose.

"Better than you," you said as you knelt beside him.

You carried several different things in your hands, including a damp cloth, a bandage, a small bottle of honey, and the ointment you bought without him.

"What's that?" He asked.

"For the scraping," you said, taking his hand and resting it in your lap palm up.

The cork popped out of the jar, tossed onto the bed as you poured some of the ointment onto your hands. Ahk watched in interest as you took his hand, washing his skin with the cool mixture, and partially burning the more sensitive cuts. He hissed as you passed over the largest.

"Do you think that this is good for you?" You asked as you looked up.

"What, the ointment or –"

"The fighting," you chuckled.

"Ah. Well, it has been good to rehearse some of my moves," he said with a shrug.

You nodded, continuing to massage the red marks.

"Then I can protect you better," he said.

"My little boy," you grinned, pinching his cheek with your lotion-clad fingers. He scrunched up his face, wiping the treatment away.

"I'm not a little boy," he said flatly.

"But you are my – or, mine," you said.

"A little." He nodded vaguely.

Your affections had been switching unpredictably the last few days, since around when he snuck into the King's garden, so he never knew how to react to certain things you said. Sometimes you would snap at him for things he hadn't ever considered, but other times, like this, you tied him to you, caring for wounded muscles and mind.

Once you were done with both his hands, you moved on to his scuffed knees, and gently rubbed the ointment in there. Again he flinched back, but you held him tight in place.

"What are you going to be doing for the party?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, spent convincing himself it'd be odd to reach forward and tangle his fingers in your unkempt hair.

"I am with the beer, and the food," you said, glancing up sparingly. "I am one of the people who does not talk the whole time."

"Oh, don't worry," he sighed, sitting back. "So am I."

It'd be the first event Ahk ever attended where he wasn't expected to look like a God, or to perform some heavenly speech that assured the listening people of his nation.

Later that same day it would be announced to the staff at large that a member of the royal family would be attending as an honored guest of the estate owner's––whose name was Ukani––three, triplet daughters. It was the first time Ahk had seen the identical girls, though you had clearly met them before judging by your glazed over expression. It was also announced that because of this, all the servants and guards would have to be wearing proper attire––something that fit a nobleman's party better than plain skirts and dirtied dresses.

Every servant in line let out a long groan, though most were subdued in the face of the stewardess. She glared down each of you thoroughly.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to learn these will be supplied for you. You won't need to get anything on your own," she said, and everyone seemed to fare much better with that.

She drilled into the eleven of you standing in that line––including yourselves and the other four new recruits–-that respect of the family and their friends was vital, and that employment would not last should that respect be breached. Ahkmen wondered as he watched her steely eyes if guards and servants were treated like this in his own home by the overseers; his personal servant, Naguib, hadn't said anything about it. Then again, Ahk never asked.

You were soon dismissed, and you and Ahk immediately went to each other.

"I do not like this," you said, crossing your arms. Clearly the dress code bothered you, even if it was financially stable.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I'm sure you'll look fine."

"I am not a doll."

"Really? You're small enough to be one –"

Before he could laugh at his own joke you punched him in the gut, laughing when he clutched his stomach. Of course, it didn't hurt all that much, but it did take him greatly by surprise.

Steaming buns filled with mashed dates smelled more heavenly than he ever could've imagined. The shop was only across the plaza from the brewery, as well––it gave him an ample opportunity to dash over, purchase a couple, and run back before you finished preparing the same batch throughout the ten you were starting today. Experiments never ended with you––continuous tests and studies had to be conducted.

He jogged down the steps, ducking beneath the tarp doorway with a cloth sack in hand; within it, the buns. The scent of broiling beer wafted thick in the small stirring room, the many fires of different bubbling pots warmed the area as well, and the heat remained trapped beneath the tarp ceiling. Sunlight poured in through gaps between the ceiling and the wall, illuminating wisps of smoke rising from a small plate of incense burning opposite the entrance. A few of the brewers discussed things quietly among themselves as he passed. Familiarity became this room; humid, almost unpleasantly warm, and smelling of nothing more than sweet, honeyed beer. And you.

"How's it coming?" Ahk asked, stopping in front of your stand, the warm desert in his hand clutched to his chest.

"Good, I am with the, uh..." you paused as you pumped the stir stick up and down through the thick malt, "the saffron."

"Smells nice," he said, earning a smile from you.

"Thanks many," you said.

He chuckled, shifting his weight as he looked bashfully down.

"Oh, I got you something," Ahk said after seeing the pouch again. He released the drawstring, pulling out one of the buns.

"Oooh," you said as you took it. "What is it?"

"Some sort of date dessert, I don't think I've ever tried one of these before."

Within the date paste were chewy nuts which, after a moment, tasted distinctly like pistachios. You hummed pleasurably with your first bite, your cheeks puffing out with how massive of a bite you'd taken.

Conversation continued throughout the couple rows of stirring pots, must of the words muffled beneath the churning of beer. Ahkmen finished his bun quicker than you did, and spun slowly round to scan the room before his attention fell back to you, watching as you finished.

"Good?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Very," you assured him.

More murmurs and whispers had him turning around again, trying to look for who was speaking in such noticeable whispers.

"What do you talk about all day with these people?" Ahk asked as he spun back round to you, his hands on his hips.

"I do not talk much," you admitted. "I do not talk good in Akkadian, but I do hear what they say."

"So... what do they talk about?"

"Oh, they have parents, and children, and lovers... and they have the beer, also. They, uh.. they do talk about you," you added hesitantly.

"Me?" He asked incredulously.

He turned around and, sure enough, two women's eyes darted from the back of his head down to their work.

"Wait, why?" He asked, suddenly horrified by the products of his imagination. So much so that he didn't notice his hands gripping the lip of your pot, soon to be burned by the heat. Once he noticed, he ripped his hands away, scanning the red marks on his palms

"Aganu, do not do that," you said in a tired sigh, clunking the spoon down in the bowl.

You stepped down from your stool, taking him by his wrist and leading him over to a corner of the brewery stocked with shelves. The class and clay bottle clinked together brightly as you shuffled through them, expertly finding a small, black bottle with an equally adorable cork. A pop came from it as you pulled it out, placing your finger over the mouth and shaking it upside down.

"What is that?" He asked quietly as he looked over your shoulder.

"It is an oil, for burns," you said, concentrating greatly as you organized the cork, the bottle, and your oil-covered finger onto one hand.

"Oh. Does it happen a lot?"

"Yes," you said with an irate groan that had Ahk chuckling. "Harmu come in here and make love words with the women, and – and take them off the beer, and that makes the batch fail. That is a lot of barley, gone."

"Ah," he breathed out.

While you talked you took his hand, displaying the burnt palm and coating it with the oil on your finger. Since there was only a little bottle of it, you used very little with each dip into the oil, and thus had to flip the bottle much more frequently over your finger.

"It is still okay to eat, but it is not good at all," you said, shaking your head.

"You've tried it then?"

"I have smelled it," you said.

He belted out a laugh.

"Am I one of the... what did you call them? Harmu?"

"Yes, uh... fuck, what is it in Egyptian?" You closed your eyes, your face screwed up in a frown. "I can only remember the Akkadian and the Harappan."

"But am I one of them?

You looked up, almost surprised by his question.

"Oh, no, you do not make love with women here," you said.

Ahkmen sighed very, very deeply, just barely staunching the circus of laughter in his chest.

"Please don't say that again."

The whole of the incident was forgotten by the time you were walking home, bathed in the shadow of the tall city walls. Most of the stores you passed were now closed, making way for warm nights and a hot meal, the latter of which you looked forward to. It took a little getting used to, but eventually the porridge-type beer served at the estate rubbed off on you.

Until then, you wandered through the streets of Babylon, absorbing the colors bursting around you, before sinking into the quiet of night once more.

By the time the stone walls of the estate came into view, life around you had dimmed into such quiet moments resigned to the windows of nearby houses. Crickets chirped in the absence of thundering footsteps.

Neither of you spoke much––sometimes commentating on stray cats or dogs, or the bugs that jumped in and out of view, but little more than that. Part of it was Ahkmen's doing, as he was usually the first to say something, and as of right now he was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to make any such conversation. But, like usual, he was still engrossed in you, dreaming of something that came to his sleepy mind a few hours ago.

"Husband!" You suddenly exclaimed, your eyes widening as recognition washed over you.

"What??"

"That is the word I did not know, harmu, it is husband," you said with a grin.

"Ohh," he said. "You scared me."

"Sorry," you said, and leant into him, holding his arm to your chest.

Ah, right. That's what a heart palpitation felt like, beating wildly in his chest at the feeling of your heat. Even in the warm evening he revelled in the touch. So maybe it was alright, he reasoned––maybe you really had forgiven him, and done readily so, leaving Ahk himself to build this discomfort in your presence that fed off his uncertainty.

Perhaps he should live more in the moment––that is what he thought, and he debated it greatly during your small dinner atop the servant's quarters roof.

The two of you chewed in silence for a little while, enjoying the warmth of the porridge as quiet murmurs below you broke the creaking of crickets. Someone down in the quarters was plucking at a lute, but made no particular melody, and Ahk imagined them leant back on their bed, their head pressed against the wall and their eyes closed as they played. It'd been a while since he'd heard you play, and he'd never heard you actually sing before for purposes other than making fun of him.

While he listened he stared ahead at the city's silhouette, from the dips marking streets to the towers reaching the Milky Way. He squinted to see the steps of a pyramid––not entirely unlike the step pyramid of Djoser––and frowned when he couldn't identify its' use. Temples were built in the form of ziggurats in Babylon, not pyramids.

It hit him after a few more seconds of staring, and before he could think it through he blurted something out that he couldn't quite hear.

"I think we should go see one of the gardens here," he said, recogniing the vines and flora that draped from the steps of the tower. "They've been taunting me lately with their grandeur."

You chuckled, leaning back and saying, "okay... but I have garden work, here, tomorrow."

"Of course. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, always," you said with a nod.

"You said the women talk about me. What do they say?" He asked.

"Oh," a smile spread across your face as you looked away, "oh, not any words too bad. It is... you do not speak Akkadian, that is not right for them, you know? And you do have clothes a little... um, not Karanduniash. You speak only to me and all you say to them is I do not know Akkadian in Akkadian. That is also a little..."

"Strange?" He offered.

"A little," you nodded, shrugging in hopes of lessening the blow.

"I've never been strange before," he said quietly.

"What?" You looked up from the floor to meet his eye.

"Well, my father was rich so a lot of people treated me with great respect. If I wanted to I could have had hordes of friends and followers, so it was definitely my own choice to stay to myself," he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands as he spoke and you nodded along with him.

"I had thought people did not like you," you admitted.

"What, why??" He said, suddenly horrified. His reaction had you belting out a laugh.

"You had one, mean friend, and Panya did not like you, too," you said with another apologetic shrug.

"Well when you put it like that," he said, and the both of you devolved into giggles.

When you calmed down there was less space between you, your dishes set to the side as you inched closer.

"Did Panya ever talk about me?" He asked, inquisitive eyes scanning you thoroughly.

"A little," you nodded. "She says... you did mean things when you were.. young. Piye did, too."

"Piye said I was a bad person?"

"No, only that you had things when you were young," you assured him. "But good things, also. You are... kind, in heart."

Your attention glazed over, and Ahk watched with uncertainty as you reached forward, setting your hand over his trembling heart. He could feel your hand moving with how hard his heart beat, trying desperately to calm himself as skin met flushed skin.

Fingers trailed down his bare chest until you withdrew your hand entirely, finally looking back up at him with gleaming eyes.

"I think you are good, still if you say the words wrong, you are good at heart," you said in a sudden need to assure him of his own humanity.

It acted as an apology in your eyes, but to him he saw nothing but love, and his heartbeat increased tenfold. What summer nights brought about amidst the bugs and acquaintances murmuring below.

Coins jingled in his pocket as he made his way through the streets, weaving through thick crowds to reach the center marketplace. He bid good-bye to you several minutes earlier, leaving you to work on the estate's garden, while Ahkmen enjoyed his freetime away from the masters. His clothes, perfectly suited to blend in with the locals, also hid away his various bags of grain and coins that he would use as payment, and the dagger strapped to his hip.

There was no particular aim he had in mind as he walked, eyes darting from the indecipherable shop signs to the various people spending their morning out on the streets. He would, at times, come across small trios or couplets of musicians who filled up the space between loud conversations, bringing to the chaos a sort of art. High flutes played in tune with deep lyres, the instruments made of a cheaper wood more easily afforded by the lower classes. But the bustle of traders and merchants could still be heard clearly throughout the noise, calling out prices and wares, and advertising the many products sold within the streets of Babylon.

Babylon had, like Egypt, somehow retained much of its' prosperity despite the trying times. Rapiqum and the cities of Canaan––Jericho and Jerusalem––suffered much worse; a lack of water befalling the people who resided in the starved cities. But the river Euphrates never strayed from Babylon, and had continued to run through the city in plentiful waves.

The water of the Euphrates was said to be tears. Tears from the primorial Goddess, whose name Ahk couldn't recall. He frowned as he looked over the edge of the terrace, leaning on a white stone railing that separated him from a ten foot drop into the swirling waters below, lined with the blue tile of the city's gates. From the even decorations on either side, Ahk correctly assumed that it marked the water level of a typical year; the water currently ran an arm's length below the mark. He let out a long sigh, his fingers digging into the railing.

At the sight of this Ahk couldn't help but imagine the Nile falling to such depths. Each year brought forth a differing inundation, making it hard to truly worry about the water level. But years of this would dry the farmlands, polluting the cities with dry, infertile dirt, and ridding of the already scant shade along the Nile's shores. Birds would leave in droves, and antelope would follow the scent of water to more fruitful lands.

He didn't notice how tight his grip on the rail grew until the plaster cracked, the pop drawing his attention back to his intense glare and gritted jaw. A couple of the people stopping at the riverside gave him odd looks, some of them scooting away from him, at which point he released all the tension in his body and stepped quickly away, heading back into the western city.

He once again found himself in one of the city's many center circles, allowing shopfronts to spread out in multitudes to present their wares. Nearly all the shops were open at this time, since it was around noon, and Ahk could hardly hear his own thoughts with the rampant conversation and shouts surrounding him. A headache sprouted in his knotted brow from the confused––or irritated––expression on him.

"Lost, are you?"

"Who the f–"

Ahk whipped around to see who had spoken, mostly because it was in Egyptian, only to find a dissapointingly familiar face.

"Oh. You," Ahk said stiffly, crossing his arms as he stopped dead in the center of the moving crowd, the Kassite Prince standing across from him with a smile.

"I thought you looked a little lonely out here," he said, taking several, leisurely steps forward. "All by yourself."

"Listen, you and I do not know each other," Ahk said, taking his movement as a challenge and stepping forward till he truly faced the shorter prince. "Stop talking to me in public."

"You should feel honored I ever speak to you at all," he retorted.

Ahkmen internally groaned. Did others feel this way when they spoke to him during his childhood? The Kassite Prince did seem to be a little younger than Ahk, though not by much.

"Don't you have Kings in Egypt?" the Prince continued.

"Pharaohs. And I'm fully aware they do, I just never liked them," Ahk lied sourly, his lips pursed tight together.

"That gold on your arm says otherwise," he said, gesturing with his chin to the gold band wrapped round his bicep.

"Who even are you?"

"The Prince, you –"

"I know that," Ahk interrupted him. "I meant your name."

The Kassite Prince hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question.

"You know what? I don't care," Ahk said after another second of silence, throwing his hands up in the in defeat, and turning round and walking away.

"Hey!" The prince called out in a whine, but the crowd already welled up in the space between them. "My name's Rimush!"

"And my name's Fuck You," Ahk muttered beneath his breath.

Incense from Elam. Considering your interest in other cultures, and the magic ongoings of said cultures, Ahk took the guess that you would enjoy a hint of the travel yet to come. You still had beer batches you had to finish, and Ahk was enjoying his time returning to combat training, eagerly memorizing each move and doing it thoroughly as he imagined besting any creature that dared to hurt you. There was no need to hurry yourselves to Elam, but there still lingered a curiosity in you and Ahkmen. Priest teachers in Egypt never spoke much about Elam considering the distances between the two countries. Imports reached further than power, however, so Ahk actually had used Elamite incense before, and recalled it as being pleasant. You'd like it, he thought.

Incense progressed into talismans and tools, till his poor money-managing skills led him to carrying three bags worth of things, some for you, and some for himself. Most for you, though. He burned a bright red as he walked back to the estate, already knowing how you'd laugh, rocking back in your seat as he revealed your effect on him even without your presence. But it would be worth it to see the hidden delight in your twinkling eyes.

"Aganu, do you know how many necklaces you have give me?" You asked, about ten minutes after you asked what the thing in your hand was, and he answered 'necklace'.

"No, I wasn't really counting," he said, lifting himself out of his own bag to look over your shoulder.

You sat on his bed, you at the head and him on the side, his legs still planted on the ground. Two of the bags were now empty, their contents scattered in piles around the sheets, all of which belonged to you. Ahk kept his own belongings in a separate bag on the floor.

"This is ten and six necklaces," you said as you held up the mass of necklaces, looking more like tiny, black and brown worms rather than jewelry, the sight of which had giggles bubbling up in both of you.

"Sorry?" He said through his chuckling.

"No, no, I love," you said, setting to untangling them.

It took nearly ten minutes but eventually the two of you untangled all of them, only for you to put every last one of them around your neck, tangling them back around on your chest. You flashed a dizzying grin once you wore all his gifts.

"It's still early," he stuttered out, his face slowly warming with blood as he found himself unable to look away from you, or the sunlight streaming through the door that illuminated your soft skin. "Do you think today'll work for the garden?"

"Oh, yes," you said, straightening your back. "Yes, that is good!"

He chuckled, averting his eyes to his fidgeting fingers.

Tamarisk trees flanked the entrance of the tower, still scraping the sky with the tallest terrace overflowing with leaves of green. The throes of a dying sun painted the white pillars red and orange, burning like flames that would surely overtake the city, but still cooled by the high-up winds that brushed against the hanging trees and flowers.

A wide arch greeted you, acting as a massive entrance leading into a tall room overflowing with grasses, reeds, and bushes. Most of them you recognized instantly––herbs of special sorts, both from Mesopotamia and from far away. You picked those you recognized, stuffing the leaves and roots into one of your many pockets. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, but still stopped at your side to allow your collecting, which continued to the stairs carved in a polished, white stone, massive lamassu statutes towering above you. They popped right out of the stone, empty eyes staring straight down into Ahk.

"Wow," he said, earning a hum from you.

"It is like Egypt," you said.

He turned to you with a frown.

"How so?"

"Big, stone cat, with a man head," you said, pointing up at the human fae.

"Oh," he turned back to the statue, "I suppose you're right."

A couple came down the stairs, pressed tightly together when they noticed you. The two of you also drew closer, and began to head up the stairs, watching for the new flora that bloomed out of seemingly nothing.

Lines of arches whose pillars were carved in intricate patterns led to the wind of open air rustling through the trees, willows and their long tendrils dancing and entangling themselves with the flowers of nearby vines. Water clung to the air around you, kept humid and warm in the strange, and surely intentional, dome of a ceiling. Yet more stairs sat behind you, meaning the next floor must've been built higher than the ceiling of the second floor.

Fruits––though most of them small––grew on the low bushes and on high trees, their blooming colors matching the many petals of white, red, gold, and deep purple. You soon discovered the reason for the small fruits was that the other people roaming throughout the terraces picked the larger, more ripened ones, eating them as they wandered about. You soon did the same, picking a small plum and offering part of it to Ahk. He took a couple bites before handing it back to you.

At the brush of your fingers, his heart did not speed––not like before, and he melted into the familiarity, into the warmth he memorized in your touch. Without much thought he took your hand, entwining your fingers sticky with fruit sugar together. When you didn't try to pull away, he pushed down the excitement that was quick to fill his chest, but allowed himself a small smile.

A woman picked fruit from a tree in front of your path, but when he accidentally caught her eye, she hurried off with her basket in hand. Ahk looked up to where she'd been tending, and found large, red pomegranates hanging abundantly from the flimsy tree.

Moving up to his toes, he picked one of the fruits and handed it to you.

"Ever had a pomegranate before?" He asked when you just held it, staring at it in your hands.

"That is this?" You said as you raised it.

"Indeed so. My brother and I used to split it."

"You had a brother??" You asked incredulously.

"Did I never tell you?"

"No," you said. Obviously.

"Alright, well, before he started really hating me, we'd sometimes sneak out into the market and split food, since we couldn't find enough money to pay for an overzealous amount," Ahk explained.

At the very end of his sentence you took a massive bite into the raw peel, instantly frowning when you bit into something fleshy and bitter. Ahkmen, who took a second to notice this, quickly took the fruit from you with a gasp. A large bitemark was already in the fruit.

"That – that's not how you eat pomegranates," he stammered, digging his thumbs into the new-revealed fruit, and splitting it open to reveal the seeds within.

"It is bad," you said, your expression still contorted uncomfortably.

"Spit it out!"

You spit your bite into the nearby bushes, earning cold stares from the couple of people who saw. Their gazes had you shrinking in on yourself.

"Don't worry about it," Ahk said quietly, setting a hand on your back. "I would definitely have done the same thing."

The two of you split the pomegranate, and Ahkmen showed you that it was the fruit-covered seeds that were the truly consumable part. You ended up enjoying them quite a bit, and the one pomegranate lasted you throughout the whole of the marble and limestone garden terrace, following you up the stairs till nothing remained but the shell. Ahk tossed the remains away, and the two of you continued onwards.

Eventually the air began to cool with the ascending floors, and Ahk's Egyptian clothes––which he'd worn that day because he had no work––ceased to fit the temperature, landing Ahk with a soured look and goosebumps coming up constantly on his arms that were crossed tight over his chest.

"Awwwh, you are cold?" You asked in a saccharine voice, after Ahk spent ten minutes wondering if you noticed his shivering.

Your attention did feel better, but not enough.

"A little," he said.

"You do want my coat?" You offered, already setting to undoing the buttons set high on the stiff, red and gold fabric neck.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ahk said quickly, unwrapping his arms from himself to shake his hands no.

"That is okay," you said after a moment. "I do not think it would go in your big arms."

"You think my arms are big?" He squeaked out, looking down at his bicep, which had grown slightly more toned after several training sessions.

"Well, you..." you poked his left bicep, "are big."

"How kind of you, Yogasundari," he said with a massive grin, looking down at you like you lit up the sky.

"Shut up," you said as you pushed him away, earning a loud laugh from him.

"What a show you put on," came a voice from behind you. "I'm almost embarrassed to be seen talking to you."

Ahk groaned––externally this time––and turned slowly around, his dull eyes meeting the Prince Rimush's plotting expression.

"Then stop talking to us," Ahk said, setting his left arm around your shoulder and directing the both of you back forward.

"You've got me there," Rimush said and, to Ahk's great dismay, ran to catch up with you and Ahk, standing at Ahkmen's right. "I just can't dismiss how wonderful of a whore you would make."

Ahk shot you an odd look, but you just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with a glare.

"Well, you've got the body for it, and you clearly don't care about showing a little skin," he said, a smirk creeping across his face.

"You know, I don't complain that you're a little brat and that I wish I could subjugate you. Maybe you could do the same," Ahkmen said.

Rimush just laughed, throwing his head of curly, black hair back.

"Who is this man?" You whispered to Ahk while the other was distracted.

"Some idiot I've seen a couple times. He's just a dick."

"I am a Prince, thank you," Rimush interrupted with a cocked brow.

"Okay, Prince Dick," Ahk said, rolling his eyes.

Rimush's mouth fell open as he stared at Ahk, stopping dead in his step. You and Ahk spared him no mercy, and continued forward, leaving the Kassite Prince behind, but only for a moment. He soon ran back up to join you, drawing a heavier-yet groan from Ahkmen.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he said, hitting Ahk's chest.

"Would you please leave? I'm trying to spend an evening alone with my – my..." Ahk trailed off, his eyes darting to you and back to Rimush.

"Tunae," you suggested, and despite not knowing what the hell you were talking about, he agreed.

"Alright, very well," Rimush said with a long sigh, his shoulders sagging. "But I'd still like to invite you to an event within a few weeks, if you're not too busy... staring at each other."

"Clever," Ahk said flatly.

"It's at Ukani's estate. One of our high priests, a good friend of my father's," the Prince continued.

It took a moment, but the words oh fuck rolled over Ahk's already irritated mind.

"We'll already be there," Ahk said. "We work for the man."

"Oh, wonderful. I hope you're doing some of the dancing, then," Rimush said, and his eyes raked over Ahk again. "I've heard the dancers are dressed in only the finest and thinnest of silks."

"I guess you'll find out," Ahk replied in the same, flat tone.

The two of you, now pressed tightly together, didn't move or speak till Rimush's unkempt locks disappeared down the stairway. At that point Ahk let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and returned his attention chiefly to you.

"He is a prince?" You asked as you picked up your stroll once more.

"Yes, somehow."

"We must be good to him," you said.

"Uh... why?" Ahk asked, wanting to do the exact opposite.

"You said, in Egypt, to go with what the power says, the Kings and that," you said, and his eyes drifted shut.

"I did say that, didn't I," he mumbled.

Now that those conventions weren't upholding his status and were there instead to crush him, well––things seemed a little different on the earth than it did in the clouds, and his thought process worked just the same.

Both of you fell quiet after that, wandering in silence throughout the climbing terraces. Trees of figs, dates, melons, plums, and pears lined the walkway, beside softly running streams pouring their lifeforce into the plants. After several minutes, and a couple floors later, Ahk finally gathered up enough gall to take your hand again. Instantly your fingers tangled into his, and he noted with great pride the smile tugging at the corners of your blushing lips.

The very top of the tower overlooked the whole of the city, from the ziggurats to the outer walls, and to the town-like structures stretching onwards from Karanduniash. The Euphrates continued on endlessly, splitting the land before you in two as wind blew with the force to disrobe you.

People who walked down below were no larger than the ochre dot on your forehead, and moved about as slow as an ant crawling to get to its' hive. Ahk was the only one that could truly watch them, as you were uneasy whenever you leant over the garden's edge, and saw the ground below at a height tall enough to kill you. Instead you crossed you arms, whining whenever Ahk got too close and appeared to be close to falling off.

"Do not be dumb," you said with a frown, your folded arms helping keep your clothes tight to your body.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he said, leaning just enough over the sheer cliff to see the terraces built beneath you, and those who stood on the edge just as he did.

"I would like to worry about that, thank you," you said matter-of-factly.

Ahkmen chuckled but relented, returning to your side in the center of the highest floor. Despite the plant's water coming from far below you, the creek still ran through the last terrace, feeding the scant trees and brush that could survive the overbearing winds. The bells of rushing water accompanied him as he took your hands, holding them gentle in his own.

"You know I adore you, don't you?" He said, scanning your expectant eyes.

"What does a door do with this?"

"No, not -" he giggled with warming cheeks, "not a door. Adore. It means to care for something deeply, to admire it in a way."

"Ohhh, yes, I did hear this, I only forgot. Sorry," you said with your own sheepish chuckle.

"No need to apologize. I just want you to remember that."

"What adore is saying?"

"No, that I adore you," he said, and despite his screw-ups rushing blood to his face, he knelt before you to more easily meet your eye.

Looking up to you was a special sort of reverence. His bare knee dug into the fertile earth, his other kept up near his chest as he craned his neck to hold your gaze. You appeared, for a moment, to be entirely quiet, wide eyes staring wordlessly down at him. Even the breath in your chest ceased to move.

In the past, you had bowed before many people––passing Kings and High Priests, masters, and your own family in celebrations for the new year. The view from above was quite different from the one below, and you were allowed movement.

You gently pulled one of your hands out of his hold. His empty hand fell like muslin to his lap, a feeling replicated in warm, tingling sensations when your thumb stroked over his jawline. Eyes fluttered shut once more as he leant into your touch, melting when the whole of your palm rested on his flushed cheek.

"Look at me," you said softly, and Ahk raised his head, opening his eyes. "Know my face."

"I've already memorized it," he replied in a murmur.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

10 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

Is that a Cinderella AU part I see? Yes, yes, it is! And one hopefully not as dark and devoid of hope as the last part...

Charlie’s castle carpenter tunic is based on this design; Bill’s castle guard uniform, referenced in a previous part, is based on this real uniform from 16th century France, though with a Royaumanian-worthy blue/red color scheme. My headcanon is that Charlie (who’s described as stocky in the books) is 5′5″, only two inches taller than his “unofficial twin,” Carewyn, while Bill is a friggin’ giant the tallest of the Cursebreaking squad at 6′1″ (one inch taller than Ben Copper at full height and the same height as his actor, Domhnall Gleeson!). The entire Cromwell family is on the smaller side, with Charles as the tallest at 5′10″. Oh, and yes, the Cromwells are all a piece of work, but Charles is indisputably the worst apple in the bushel. 😒

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn was discovered outside by her aunts Pearl and Claire and uncle Blaise and brought inside. When they interrogated her about why she had returned to the estate in the middle of the night, however, Carewyn was unable to answer them. She was unable to speak at all -- nor was she able to eat, drink, or sleep. Instead she simply settled down in a huddled ball on her old cot by the fireplace and stayed there, her arms around her knees and her eyes devoid of all light or awareness.

Whatever had happened, Charles seemed to have determined Carewyn would be of no use to him in the palace, the way she was -- and so, at dawn, he sent a messenger to the King and Queen, telling them that she’d taken ill and would have to remain at home in the interim.

Carewyn’s cousins at first took some vindictive pleasure out of bullying her, now that she was back under their roof. Arsen and Kain actually picked Carewyn up off the ground and pushed her around like some human-sized doll while Elmer sang a mean little song he’d written about her --

“Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn, the finest of her class --

The duchess of the dust and soot, her kingdom’s made of ash!

She went to court; oh, did they chortle, snicker, and guffaw --

So Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn ran home, crying, ‘Mama!’”

Before long, though, her lack of a reaction seemed to make it not so fun of a game. Within two days, Tristan, the youngest of Carewyn’s cousins, actually threw a tantrum because Carewyn completely ignored him splashing his paints all over her.

“What’s wrong with you!?” the boy screamed, beside himself. “Why won’t you get mad at me?! Why won’t you run away and cry?! Why are you so -- so -- WEIRD?!”

Blaise was most perturbed when his son actually burst full-on into tears. Clenching his jaw furiously, he brought an arm around Tristan and swept him back inside and away from the vacant-eyed Carewyn. Then he went straight to the dining hall to speak to Charles.

“Father, something must be done about Winnie,” he hissed. “This is not normal.”

Pearl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Her behavior is shameful. To think the Cromwell blood runs through the veins of that girl...”

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is,” said Claire in sycophantic agreement.

“Winnie may be a pathetic thing, but she is our thing,” Blaise shot back fiercely, “and she’s practically dead as she is.”

He turned to Charles.

“We’ve already lost Lane and sent Jacob off,” he said in a quiet, cold voice. “Are we to simply let Winnie waste away?”

Charles had his hands folded in front of him on the table. At Blaise’s words, his own almond-shaped blue eyes -- identical to his children’s and nearly all of his grandchildren’s -- narrowed.

“I must admit, it is a shame that Carewyn has stopped being useful,” he said lowly. “Iris may still be a set of eyes for us inside the palace, but she’s hardly clever enough to do much of anything on her own that’s useful.”

Claire actually looked hurt. “Father...Iris just sent us a letter this morning. Was it not useful to you?”

Charles’s eyes were very cold upon his daughter. “Hardly. She spent a good chunk of it complaining that Carewyn did something to the Prince, before leaving the palace...clearly trying to make excuses for her own failure to hold Prince Henri’s attention.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with shame and she hung her head.

“It wouldn’t be the first time that Iris has blamed Winnie for stealing one of her suitors’ attention,” said Pearl seriously, “but we have yet to get any explanation about why she’s returned to us against your instructions. And Claire and I did hear a horse galloping away, that night. Could it have been Prince Henri?”

Blaise scoffed. “Doubtful. You think a Prince would ever favor a plain girl with no dowry or status?”

“You warned Winnie yourself that the Prince could want her as a conquest,” Pearl said darkly. “Heartbreak would more than explain her current state...”

The idea made Blaise flush with rage.

“Whoever rode that horse, it was not the Prince,” said Charles very smoothly. He rose to his feet, picking up his dragon-headed cane and strolling over to the window to look out. “From what my informants have told me...Prince Henri was at the Royaumanian army camp that entire night.”

His children all straightened up, taken aback.

“At the war front?” said Pearl, shocked.

“Yes,” said Charles. “It quite upset their Majesties. Even more so when he returned to the palace in the morning dressed like a commoner and declared to them and the entire royal court that he intended to open up peace talks with the soon-to-be King of Florence.”

“Soon-to-be King?” said Blaise, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Then the old one kicked the bucket?”

“Yes...and it turns out the replacement Crown Prince is something of a populist. From what I’ve heard, his very first decision as future monarch was to ask every Florentine nobleman to -- should they wish to remain at court -- donate a portion of their wealth to him, so that he could then use it to buy a feast and custom-tailored clothing for his soldiers.”

Charles was clearly offended by the idea. Blaise was too.

“Uppity brat,” he sneered. “I guess that’s what’s you get, when you choose a bastard peasant as your future king...”

Pearl, however, looked a bit more cynical. “Seems rather unwise, to antagonize those who come closest to you in status...”

“On the contrary,” said Charles. “It’s most shrewd. As Blaise said, the boy was the King’s illegitimate son. That would offend the standards of just about anyone of good breeding...thus it would be foolish to try to court them for approval. A rat can communicate best with other rats -- and sadly, a swarm of rats is just what you get, when they gather: a band of filthy, hungry, disgusting creatures who will eat away at what we hold dear.”

His blue eyes flashed.

“And now our Prince fancies becoming allies with such vermin.”

Claire looked uncertainly at Pearl and Blaise. Both of them looked perturbed.

“If the War ends, there’ll be less money in the future for us,” Blaise growled. “Our investments in armaments built this estate...”

“My investments, Blaise,” Charles said in a very cool voice. “Do not forget that even the ones done in your and my son-in-laws’ names were still orchestrated by me.”

He pushed his palm down into the top of his cane, his long fingers trailing over the metallic snout of the dragon-head handle.

“It’s far worse than that, however. The Royaumanian royal family’s financial troubles was what has lent me their ear from the beginning. Gave me access to their decision-making -- gave me some leverage in coaxing them to join our two families. Should the King and Queen become friends and allies with Florence’s new royal brat, they may get the idea to redistribute their courtiers’ wealth as he has, to alleviate the nation’s debts...meaning we not only won’t be bringing in as much money as before, but that we’ll also have to submit to parting with what we already have, just to indulge in petty charity.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed upon his reflection in the ice-trimmed window.

“Our family’s chance at ascending into royalty...at the absolute, irreversible power owed us...is slipping away.”

Claire got up and tried to comfort her father by taking hold of his shoulder. “But Father...surely there’s still some hope? If Iris -- ”

But Charles warded Claire off with the back of his hand, sweeping across the room.

“If your daughter thinks that a mere maidservant was able to captivate the Prince more than her, then perhaps it’s the maidservant who I should enlist in getting our family what we deserve.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at Pearl. “Fetch Carewyn and bring her to me.”

Pearl dragged Carewyn up to the dining hall by her arm. The ginger-haired Cromwell hadn’t changed clothes or washed since she’d returned home, so her face was covered in cinders and her forest green and white dress was still splashed with the paints Tristan had thrown on her.

At the start, Charles feigned concern, saying he hated seeing his granddaughter looking so ill and unhappy, but his words barely penetrated Carewyn’s mind. They were just more lies -- just like everything else out of his mouth. She should know...being a liar herself. So she didn’t say a word in response. She made no response at all. And soon enough, Charles did come around to what he really wanted.

“His Highness is set to make a fatal error...but you have his ear. We need you to return to your duties in the palace and ensure that he does not trust the Prince called Cosimo.”

Carewyn’s lightless, empty eyes ran over her grandfather’s face for a long moment...but she did not answer.

“This is a noble duty, child,” said Charles. Although he put on a smile, it did not touch his eyes. “This is your chance to protect both your family and your country. The Florentines have been our enemies since before your mother was born...and now they seek to feign honor long enough to lure our Prince into their jaws...”

He brought a hand down onto Carewyn’s shoulder.

“Jacob would be proud, knowing you were helping him in his fight against them.”

Carewyn stared at Charles. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were as dark and turbulent as two miniature hurricanes. And yet, she did not speak.

Charles tilted his head, raising his eyebrows and considering her expression with that cold, detached smile. “Come now, my dear...will you not speak to your grandfather? I do so hate to see you like this.”

Carewyn’s gaze drifted away as Charles’s eyes bore into her -- and yet the silence dragged on with neither breaking it.

Pearl, Claire, and Blaise, for their parts, were becoming all the more unsettled by Carewyn’s lack of a response. Blaise actually strode forward and shouted at her.

“You will speak when spoken to, you ungrateful little -- !”

He made as if to strike Carewyn, but Pearl grabbed his forearm and held it back, flashing him a warning look before turning her righteous anger onto Carewyn.

“Your grandfather requires your services, Winnie,” Pearl said very sharply. “Don’t you have something to say to him?”

Even with this, however, Carewyn didn’t say anything. Then, with as much energy and emotion as a ghost, she stepped back and out of Charles’s grip and turned to go.

Something flickered in Charles’s expression.

“I did not give you permission to leave,” he said very softly.

But Carewyn didn’t answer or turn around. Claire had to block the doorframe to keep her from leaving the room.

“Your grandfather said you’re not allowed to go,” Claire said, her voice trying to be sharp but instead sounding rather unsettled.

Carewyn stared at Claire with those hollow, empty eyes in silence as Charles approached her from behind.

“You will do your duty to this family, child,” he said. It was striking how much scarier his voice sounded, when it was quieter -- Charles Cromwell was the sort of man who didn’t need to shout in order to be intimidating. “After all...that is the pact we made when I took you and your brother in, is it not?”

He took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

“Do not forget that everything you have is because of my charity. I have no desire to punish you...but I shall withdraw my kindnesses, if I must.”

Carewyn was very still. Then she once again broke out of Charles’s grip and tried to move past Claire.

Before she could get far, however, Charles snatched her up by the hair. With a strangled cry of pain, Carewyn was thrown to the ground with astonishing force, Charles’s fist clenched fast around her hair.

“Your head is not the only thing in my hands, Carewyn,” he reminded her very coldly. “I hope you remember that.”

He wrenched her up onto her feet by her hair, and Carewyn had to clench her teeth to keep herself from crying out again.

“I have been very patient with your theatrics...but I grow weary of coddling you. Should I send some message to Jacob, so that you behave? Perhaps if your head is not one you will defend, perhaps his is...”

“Liar.”

The word escaped Carewyn’s mouth as a wispy, hollow rasp, and yet it was enough to make everyone in the room stiffen. Somewhere out in the hall, one might’ve caught a quickly stifled intake of breath.

Carewyn’s eyes, although so dark, seemed to have gained an odd gleam in the back of them, like flaming cinders in a dying fire, as she stared up at Charles.

“You’re a liar,” she said again, her broken voice as rough as sandpaper in her throat as it rose in volume. “I know your life isn’t bound to Jacob’s. Any spell you could’ve had cast on him would have broken at midnight, the very night you sent him away -- the very night you ripped him away from me and sent him off to War against his will!”

Her blue eyes flared with hatred.

“That’s why you’ve never once gotten word from him -- because there’s no word you could receive from him at all! Admit it!”

There was a horrible silence. Pearl, Blaise, and Claire all looked from Carewyn to Charles and back.

Charles bore down upon his granddaughter, his face as cold as some ivory mask with hard, diamond-like eyes.

“So that’s what this is about,” he said softly. “Assigning blame. Very well, Carewyn...let us discuss this. You came to me as a child, sobbing and distraught beyond words...begging me to save your brother’s life when he was already on death’s door. You had nothing to offer me at that time, nor did your brother -- and yet I, out of the goodness of my heart, agreed to take you in. All I asked was that you show proper gratitude...a term you accepted at the time, and yet now have seen fit to break.”

He yanked Carewyn up by her hair and threw her into the table with a WHAM. Carewyn cried out in pain, before crumpling to the floor in a heap.

“I spent a good deal of my own money and discarded my own honor to try to find someone to save your brother’s life, if only to bring the light back to your eyes. Jacob was brought back to health and you were reunited with him, just as you’d hoped. And yet now you seek to demonize my wish that you show gratitude? That I collect on the debt owed me?”

He brought the heel of his shoe down on Carewyn’s shoulder with force, slamming her face down against the floor.

“And worse,” he whispered, “you wish to demonize the fact that, all these years, I was too grief-stricken to tell you of your brother’s passing?”

Blaise, Claire, and Pearl all stiffened. Only Claire, however, looked shocked.

“Jacob is...dead?” she whispered shakily.

“I knew such a revelation would be crippling to a fragile, weak heart such as yours,” said Charles, his diamond-like eyes very hard upon the back of Carewyn’s head. “I knew that the knowledge that your brother died the morning after his departure, and that his body had to be burned with every other prisoner in those barracks instead of receiving a proper burial...would break your heart.”

Carewyn had started to shake. Her face had lost all of its color, and the flicker of rebellion she’d shown mere moments ago had gone out.

“You’ve never been a stupid girl, Carewyn. You really should have figured it out years ago...and yet, like a child who believes in Yuletide gift-givers, you latched onto your brother’s memory even when all logic said you shouldn’t. I’m certain everyone else in this family saw through my pretense -- knew that it was merely something to placate you, soothe your temperamental emotions. They always have made it difficult for you to see things clearly.”

Charles's eyes narrowed.

“You were the one who disregarded your duty to the man who put a roof over your head, clothed you and fed you. Perhaps the truth wouldn’t be so crippling if you had simply done as I wished...rather than chase after a ghost.”

Tears streamed down Carewyn’s face. Although her eyes were so hollow and she shook so badly, however, the grief inside of her was not just numbing. It had grown to such an extent that it for a moment made her lose her head completely. In a violent move, she wrenched herself off the ground with a mad scream and threw a fist right at Charles’s face. Unfortunately Carewyn had never been particularly strong -- and so Charles was able to seize her wrist, twisting it away from him and holding her back with little difficulty.

“Blaise,” said Charles icily. “Fetch the whip.”

Blaise looked stricken. “Father -- ”

“The child requires discipline,” he said without looking at his son. “I will not have her thinking that following her brother’s example is acceptable behavior.”

Blaise closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then, with a grim look on his face, he swept from the dining hall.

When he entered the hallway, he found all of Carewyn’s cousins (excluding Iris, who of course was still back at the palace) huddled up against the wall. They’d clearly been listening to every word...and for once, none of them looked the least bit amused. Their faces were all very pale.

Blaise considered them all for a moment in silence. Then he brought an arm around his son and led him away.

“Come, Tristan. You will return to your room and stay there until I come fetch you.”

Everyone at the Cromwell estate tried to block out the screams of pain that echoed out of the dining hall. After just under an hour, Charles finally stopped, whether out of physical tiredness or just having finally spent his temper, and bid Pearl and Claire to carry Carewyn up to the tower room at the back of the estate. Charles didn’t want her to leave that room again until she was prepared to behave appropriately.

Carewyn had expected Pearl and Claire to simply throw her on the floor and leave her there. Instead, however, Pearl sent Claire to go fetch some towels and cold water, and she hoisted Carewyn up onto the worn feather cot on the far end. Her aunts then removed her torn dress so that they could clean the open gashes Charles’s whip had delivered to her back.

As far back as Carewyn could remember, her aunts had never liked her. Her mother Lane had even told stories about her siblings and how Charles had pressured his children to compete against each other their whole lives. When Carewyn had moved in, Pearl had refused to look her in the face for over a month...and thanks to her daughters’ dislike for Carewyn, Claire had always treated her niece just as coldly. And yet, now...for some reason, they sat with her.

“...Why are you doing this?”

Carewyn couldn’t see either Pearl or Claire’s faces while she was lying on her stomach, but she heard the mattress give a light squeak, as if Claire had shifted slightly to look at Pearl.

“Don’t you think you’ve questioned your elders more than enough already?” said Pearl in a very hard voice.

She brought a cold cloth up to the largest gash on Carewyn’s shoulder, dabbing at it lightly.

“You may be a stupid, arrogant, pathetic girl, Winnie,” she said quietly, “...but I know the pain of losing one’s sibling.”

Carewyn felt some pity in her heart despite herself.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Pearl scoffed. “Thank me by doing as your grandfather says.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. Then she turned her head away from her aunts and didn’t reply.

Taking her silence as a refusal, Pearl withdrew quickly and hoisted herself up off the worn mattress.

“Come, Claire.”

Claire hesitantly inched herself up off the mattress too, fetching the bucket of water from the floor as she went. Carewyn could see her glance back at her, when she reached the doorframe.

“Your grandfather bid you stay in here until you behave,” said Claire, and her voice sounded almost reproachful. “Please don’t make him punish you further.”

But Carewyn did not make any move or sound. And so Claire closed the door behind her, and Pearl locked it with a loud CLACK behind them.

Once Pearl and Claire descended the stairs of the tower, however, they caught the sound of raised voices from outside the open manor door. One of the voices they recognized as Blaise’s -- the other, they couldn’t have known, belonged to Charlie Weasley.

When Carewyn’s friends learned that she would not be returning to the palace, they all reacted with concern. They knew how crippling the revelation of Jacob’s death had been, but the knowledge that she was back with her family, rather than at the palace where they could help her heal, well...that only made the whole affair worse. Clearly, as KC pointed out, the King and Queen probably wouldn’t have been that lenient toward a servant who was unable to work and had no reason to suspect anything malevolent in Charles wanting to “take care” of his granddaughter. After all, Andre himself had also presumed Carewyn was well-treated by her family, before he’d been forced to conclude otherwise.

“I’ll tell them the truth -- ” Andre had said forcefully, but Badeea only shook her head sadly.

“It won’t help, your Highness,” she murmured.

KC nodded grimly. “Carewyn is Lord Cromwell’s ward, Andre. Her only possible legal guardian and benefactor. That means she belongs to him, whether we like it or not. No matter how badly she’s treated, or what she’s told you about him, he’ll still have that power over her. And as long as he’s a Lord with more financial capitol than our entire family does combined...the King and Queen won’t want to discipline him.”

Bill and Charlie, however, just couldn’t accept this. So after their scheduled duties, they visited the Cromwell estate themselves, requesting to see Carewyn. When Blaise tried to turn them away, the exchange got more heated.

“I’ve already told you that Winnie will not see you,” Blaise said, his blue eyes flashing at the two brothers.

“We’d like to hear that from her, please,” said Bill, but his politeness had a noticeable edge to it.

“She is in no condition to entertain anyone, least of all a pair of peasant boys who presume to trespass on our land and make demands. Now get out.”

“We’re not leaving until we see Carey!” Charlie said fiercely.

“You will leave now, or I shall see to it that you are thrown out,” snarled Blaise.

“Go ahead and try it!” said Charlie, getting right up in the blond man’s face.

“What’s all this now?”

Charles Cromwell had emerged from the open door of the manor. Dashing out after him were Pearl and Claire.

Blaise’s eyes flared. “A couple of troublemakers who’ve come looking for Winnie. ‘Westley,’ they call themselves -- ”

“Weasley,” corrected Bill. His eyes were narrowed as he faced Charles. “Bill and Charlie Weasley. We worked in the palace with Carewyn -- we heard she was sick and came to see her.”

Charles glanced at Pearl and Claire out the side of his eye, before his eyes swiveled back over to the two Weasleys.

“...I’m afraid my dear Carewyn is resting upstairs.”

“May we see her, please?” Bill said. Once again, his words were polite, but his voice was very firm and pointed.

“No,” said Charles. “You may not.”

His eyes narrowed upon Bill’s freckled face. One could wonder what he saw in Bill that day -- whether it was the protective “big brother” affect that reminded him of his deceased grandson Jacob, the sincere devotion Bill felt for his granddaughter Carewyn, or simply the pure distrust and dislike toward him -- but whatever it was, it served to make the Lord’s face that bit more mask-like as he considered the ginger-haired castle guard.

“‘Bill Weasley,’ you said your name was? Well, Mr. Weasley...you can be rest assured that Carewyn is being quite well taken care of, here with her family, where she belongs.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Charles raised his eyebrows very coolly.

“We know all about what you did to Carey, Cromwell,” said Charlie. “We know full well how you ‘take care’ of your family...unless you think Jacob would actually speak on your behalf, if he were still alive?”

Charles, amazingly, didn’t react at all to this, but it only served to make his mask-like face that much more unsettling.

“No one feels Jacob’s loss more than I. And I should thank you not to question that, boy.”

His eyes flickered from him to Bill.

“I don’t know what Carewyn has told you...but I’m afraid I must apologize for it, all the same. The child has always had a difficult relationship with the truth...she’s often spun tales to...try to make herself seem more appealing, to the people around her.”

“Takes a liar to know one, I guess,” spat Charlie.

Pearl’s eyes flared. “You have some nerve to speak to a nobleman thusly -- ”

“Pearl,” Charles soothed her, but his voice was hardly warm or comforting. Instead his eyes bore into Charlie with a darker glint. “You do yourself and your brother no favors in insulting me. I could have been kind and offered to send word, when Carewyn was well enough to see you...but I can see clearly that the both of you would be a toxic influence on my granddaughter, should I allow you to associate with her.”

“Toxic?” repeated Charlie, his voice rising. “You son of a -- !”

“Noble bloodline, unlike you,” Charles Cromwell said in a very low, foreboding voice. “One with enough money and influence to force you to comply with my wishes, if I must.”

Charlie wasn’t intimidated. “You do that, and we’ll tell the whole world about what you did. Reckon you won’t have quite so much respect from everyone, once they learn you used magic to trick Carey into staying under your thumb -- ”

“A dangerous accusation for anyone to make,” said Charles, his foreboding voice deepening further. “More still for a boy relying solely on the flawed testimony of a maidservant...and belonging to a family so impoverished by its size that they’d have no means to rebuild, in the event of some unforeseen tragedy...”

Charlie’s eyes widened dangerously. He looked like he wanted to punch Carewyn’s grandfather right in the face, but Bill took hold of his brother’s shoulders from behind, in a gesture that seemed to be both holding him back and expressing support.

Charles’s eyes -- the same color and shape as Carewyn’s, but infinitely crueler -- flashed up at Bill.

“I can tell that you -- like me -- are the sort of man who wishes to protect his family, Bill Weasley,” Charles said coldly. “If you wish to do so...then you will ensure that neither you nor your family comes near mine again. Do I make myself clear?”

Bill and Charles glared at each other for a very long moment, silently burning brown on icy, diamond-like blue.

“Crystal,” Bill murmured at last.

Charlie looked up at Bill, horrified. “Bill -- ”

“Come on, Charlie,” Bill cut him off quietly. “Let’s go.”

Bill steered Charlie away and off of the Cromwell estate. Once they’d cleared the gate, Charlie whirled on his brother.

“Bill, you can’t be okay with this! If old Lord Cromwell won’t let us see Carey, then something’s gotta be wrong! We can’t just -- ”

“I know,” said Bill.

Glancing over his shoulder, he walked with Charlie a few more feet to make sure they were out of earshot. Then he said quietly,

“Charlie...make up an excuse for the King and Queen about why their carriage is going to need more time to fix than you thought. We’re going to need it.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #bill weasley #charlie weasley #charles cromwell #blaise cromwell #pearl cromwell #claire cromwell #my art #my writing #...okay originally this was going to be two parts BUT #I figured you guys needed a bit more hope after how bad of a part the last one was #so I decided not to cut this in half #going back to work tomorrow~!!#so next part might take a little longer but I'll try to finish it soon #please keep liking/reblogging/commenting if you're enjoying! xoxo

14 notes · View notes

eveningcatcher · 4 years

Text

Valdemar with a cat

MC walked up to Valdemar in the dungeon, sitting next to them, “Dear, I have to travel, and I can’t bring Pepper with me…”

“I’m not taking care of that thing,” Valdemar said, not taking their eyes off the book.

“Please…” they clinged on their hand,” For me.”

Valdemar took a glance at MC’s adorable face, giving in, “Fine…”

“Thank you,“ Mc said, kissing them on the cheek,” I’ll give you all of her things. Trust me, you won’t even notice her. She sleeps most of the time. Also, you should feed her-”

“I know the basics. No need to tell me about that,” they simply stated, returning to their work.

“Oh, right. Once again, thank you so much,” MC said, hugging them, then getting more serious, ”Also, if I see on her a single stitch from the vivisection, you’re dead.”

“You’re no fun,” they pouted.

“I’m serious,” MC told them. Once they went into MC’s home, taking everything that one cat might need, MC kissed Valdemar once again, taking their backpack,” Have fun.”

As soon as MC was out of sight, Valdemar took a long look at the cat. Would MC be able to find the stitches? After a moment of thinking, they decided to drop the idea. They grabbed the cat, as well as the food and whatnot, carrying it to the dungeons.

Surprisingly enough, MC was right. The cat would sleep at the side most of the time and, once it was time for Valdemar to return to their estate, the cat would wake up. This was an amazing scenario and everything was going well, until Pepper woke one day in the dungeon, knocking down scalpels off the table.

Valdemar stared at the scalpels on the floor, then at the cat, “Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?”

“Mrrow.”

Valdemar sighed, picking up the scalpels, putting them on a higher place, trying his best to explain to the cat why it shouldn’t do that. For God’s sake, Valdemar might get in trouble even though they didn’t do anything!

Of course, Pepper just stared at them, loving that she finally got some attention from the Quaestor. As soon as Valdemar got back to their desk, they heard another loud bang. Pepper got to the scalpels, again.

“Stop it,” Valdemar said with venom in their voice. That seemed to have discouraged Pepper from being mischievous for the day, as she went back into her corner, purring until she fell asleep. Valdemar sighed as they watched the cat sleep, “I won’t even notice her…” they muttered MC’s words as they went back to work. Who knows how much time has passed when they’ve heard strange noises. They took a glance at the place where Pepper was asleep and, much to their surprise, she wasn’t there. Shit.

They stood up, feeling their patience running out, as they went to look for the cat. After a while, they found the cat under the table, scratching it with its claws, happily meowing once they saw Valdemar.

At the sight of what that little monster has done to the table, they sighed, hiding their face in their gloves. It took every ounce of their energy not to take the cat and throw it into the beetle pit. If only the cat was dumb enough to jump in it herself.

“Meow,” the cat purred once it was done scratching the table, walking up to Valdemar, purring as she nuzzled her head on their leg.

“Do you seriously believe this is enough to make me forgive you? God, why does MC even keep you?” they muttered as they grabbed the cat, putting it back on her small bed, “Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”

Thankfully, Pepper didn’t do much for the rest of the day. However, it is the next day where she went over the line. Valdemar was cleaning the scalpels, as always, and they noticed that the little freak was soundly asleep. After they’ve put the scalpels in the box, they silently left, looking for a new specimen for experimenting. Right after they’ve brought the unconscious victim in the dungeon, they noticed that the whole place looked like a mess. The ink was spilt all over their notebooks, and ink pawprints were everywhere. Some of the doctors’ suits were torn beyond repair, small pieces of fabric being all over the place. And in the middle of the whole mess was Pepper, half of her face black from the ink, happily meowing.

Valdemar dropped the man on the floor, walking to the cat, their head twitching in irritation. Pepper seemed to understand Valdemar’s ill intents as she quickly ran away from them.

“Get back, you bastard! Vulgora looks like a well-mannered person in comparison to you!” they shouted as they picked up their bone saw. Fuck MC’s wishes, they’ll get the identical cat.

They turned around, trying to find the cat, “Come, kitty, kitty,” they mused. After a while, they realized the cat was nowhere in sight, as well as that the specimen they brought is started to gain consciousness. That can’t do. They quickly picked the man up, strapping him on the least ruined table.

“Pspspsps,” they called out, looking for a small demon. Just as they were to pass one of the vivisection tables, they heard a small hiss. “There you are,” they said with a smile, extending their hand to grab the cat. However, the brave little demon just kept on hissing, scratching Valdemar’s hand. Valdemar sighed once again, as they walked to the Pepper’s bowl, putting on some cat food. After shaking the bowl for a couple of seconds, the cat was right next to them, almost as if she forgot everything that happened.

Valdemar put the bowl down, and just before Pepper was about to eat, Valdemar lifted her in the air, giving her a little shake. “LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE!!! I can’t perform vivisection in these conditions,” they turned the cat to the whole dungeon, showing her the whole mess.

As much as Valdemar cared about the state of the dungeon, that much Pepper didn’t give a shit, instead, she found out that she quite enjoyed it when Valdemar gave her a little shake. She moved her paws left and right, imitating what Valdemar did to her moments ago. They stared at her the whole time, giving her another shake, to which the cat started purring.

“You’re a bigger moron than DR. 69,” They muttered, “I never thought there was someone who could best him in that…” they looked at the side, noticing their bone saw. No, they cooled enough not to kill her. They put her in one of the cages, locking the doors, “Don’t even think about-” they stopped midsentence as they saw the cat walk through the cage. They stared at the cat who was looking at them, meowing, as she cleaned her tiny paw.

Valdemar had enough of this monster’s bullshit. They took what was left of one of the doctor’s suits, tying the cat inside the cage, making it look like a wrapped newborn. They sighed, taking out the scalpels from the box. At least the cat didn’t knock- how the fuck did it get out?!? Valdemar stared at the cat, not moving an inch. Please, please, just leave. As if on cue, the cat stared at them, then at the strapped man, went into her corner, dropping onto her bed. It was indeed enough chaos for today.

As soon as Valdemar finished with their experiment and with cleaning the whole dungeon, it was time to rewrite days worth of research because some rascal decided it would be a fun idea to bathe in ink… Oh, the demon decided to wake up… great… Valdemar should wash her…

“Mrrow,” the cat purred as she walked on Valdemar’s legs, trying to get any type of reaction out of them, however, Valdemar was too focused on rewriting everything that they didn’t even notice when Pepper jumped on their lap. She got herself comfortable and, still without Valdemar noticing, fell asleep.

It was only once Valdemar was done writing that they noticed the little bastard sleeping on their lap. They sighed as they gently put the cat down on the chair, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. But she did. She turned her head to the Valdemar with a disappointed expression.

“Sleep somewhere else,” they simply stated as they put the papers away.

The cat meowed with so much sorrow in her voice that even Valdemar felt pity. They picked the cat up, carrying it around the dungeon, trying to comfort her. Pepper seemed to not be satisfied with the position, so she climbed on top of Valdemar’s shoulders, positioning herself right between Valdemar’s headpiece. Much better.

Valdemar wanted to do something about the cat, but couldn’t. They were too old to deal with this cat’s shit. And so that’s how Pepper was carried from dungeons to Valdemar’s estate.

Once they’ve washed the cat thoroughly, they went to their room. For the first time in centuries, they felt tired. They laid in their bed, unable to fall asleep as they stared at the ceiling. After a while, they felt something burying its claws deep in their skin. They shifted their gaze lazily as they stared at Pepper eye to eye.

She purred as she buried another pair of claws into Valdemar’s arm.

“Whatever,” Valdemar said with an exhausted sigh, “This is fine,” they shifted their gaze back at the ceiling.

At some point Pepper got tired of her antics as she unburied her claws, laying right on top of Valdemar. The morning came and, even though they didn’t close their eyes the whole night, it was time for Valdemar to get out of their bed. And they would have done so had Pepper slept somewhere other than on them. They knew what will happen if they dare move, so they continued to lie on the bed, hoping that the cat will decide to wake up soon. It seemed that their prayers were answered. Not even ten minutes later the kitten woke up, purring at the sight of Valdemar. They, on the other hand, put her on the bed as they finally got out, feeling somewhat refreshed. Once the two of them were in the dungeons the cat started scratching the doors of the elevator. Valdemar rolled their eyes as they grabbed the cat, going outside. But once they got there the cat stared at the scenery in front of her, deciding that she saw enough nature for today. However, Valdemar didn’t let her have her way this time.

“No,” they put the cat back outside, “You wanted to be outside so you’ll stay outside,” they walked back to the dungeons, making sure the cat wasn’t following them. Just before the got into the library, Nadia greeted them.

“Good morning, Quaestor,” she said with a smile, “Perfect time for the court meeting.”

“Of course, Countess,” they said with a fake smile on their face.

Valdemar followed Nadia, sitting in their usual place as they zoned off, thinking about all of the possible errors in their research. They would have pondered about it a bit more had Vlastomil not shrieked so loudly. They lazily turned their head to him, then at the thing they were staring at. It was Pepper who happily put down a dead bird in front of Valdemar’s legs.

“For me?” they asked softly as the cat took the bird in its mouth, putting it in Valdemar’s hands. They were deeply touched by this act. Only MC gave them gifts.

They picked the cat up and, ignoring the judging stares from the rest of the court, went back into the dungeons. From that point on, Valdemar and Pepper were vibing. Valdemar would continue with their research, examining all of the specimen Pepper would bring them. On one occasion Pepper brought them Malak, but unfortunately, Julian came into the dungeons, taking him away. He never lets Valdemar have any fun…

Once MC returned to Vesuvia Valdemar found it hard to get separated from Pepper. They’d occasionally visit MC’s shop, letting Pepper nap on their lap as they read a book.

@luciosjuicythighs

#the arcana quaestor valdemar #the arcana valdemar #quaestor valdemar #valdemar #the arcana #The Arcana Game #the arcana courtiers #the arcana courtiers headcanon #courtier #courtiers #courtiers headcanon

88 notes · View notes

forevercaroline · 4 years

Text

Forbes chapter 1

This is a spin off of beautiful dirty rich another fic I have. I didn’t expect this first chapter to be so long but it is this is also an au. Tagging @misssophiachase, @caritobear, @crazychicke, @bearolle24, @infernal-panda, @walter-boswell428 , @karinanic, @austennerdita2533

Xxx

The forbes are the cousins of the Salvatore family one of the richest families in the world the mother’s side of the family. Where as they live in New York City the forbes reside in Bel Air California. They live in a beautiful fairy tale like gated estate with views of the Pacific Ocean and downtown Los Angeles.

Lexi Forbes wakes up in her big bedroom with white walls, a purple egg shaped chair in corner that has pillows on it, sun shining through her window above the window seat she has blankets and pillows on. After a shower in her en-suite bathroom she sits down at her vanity table and after she’s finished doing her hair which she has her long blonde hair wavy and flowing down her back and makeup which she keeps simple. She picks out a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings.

As she enters the breakfast room which is smaller then the dinning room. The breakfast room has double doors to go out to the front lawns. The quaint room is yellow, with flowers painted on the walls and fresh flowers in a vase on the table. Her mother designed their many homes.

She kisses her father on the cheek as she sits down next to him, Sabine a member of their staff at the mansion brings her a bowl of raspberries, strawberries and watermelon. “What are you doing today dad?”

Peter Hale Forbes has sharp cheek bones that would cut glass, his short but volumed brown hair is always styled. He always looks incredible and wears a lot of v necks. Today he has on a grey v neck and a pair of fitted jeans. Their wealth comes from his hotel’s but also the Forbes family comes from old money making 19 year old Lexi an heiress. “I’m going to check in on the hotels.”

As Lexi is bringing the last piece of fruit in the bowl a piece of watermelon to her mouth she asks, “Is your friend coming over today?”

Peter raises an eyebrow how does Lexi know about her he’s been so careful only bringing her around while Lexi was at school or out for a extended amount of time. He looks away from his breakfast of fruit; watermelon, blueberries, peaches and mango’s. “What friend are you referring too?”

Lexi pulls a orange cheetah print bra out of her purse. “The friend this belongs too, I know its not mine. The only other teenage girl here is Greta but since she’s in high school and works for us I doubt she’s helping her mom clean the mansion in cheetah print lingerie, nor any of the staff.”

Peter grabs the bra out of his daughters hand and puts it on the other side of him on the table. “Where did you find this?”

“Outside your suite couldn’t even wait till you got inside the first set of double doors. I didn’t find it Aiden did. He found it the day before we left for New York City and there was no time to bring it up then and when we got back they came with so now is the perfect time. That day I needed to finish packing and Aiden and Ethan came up with me, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye and it was that.”

Peter closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He knew he had to have this conversation with her eventually but he didn’t think it would be this soon. “I miss your mom everyday, But I have to learn to move on. I have been seeing a women named Alexis she beautiful, eclectic, fun I enjoy her. “

“Dad mom’s been dead for almost five years I miss her too I don’t think mom would be mad at you for moving on. I’m glad you have someone.”

As Lexi gets up Peter adds. “I forgot to mention Alexis is a escort, I don’t pay her for her time it’s not like that. There is actual feeling on both sides.”

Lexi closes her eyes and bites her lip. She knew there was a woman but she never thought there was actual feelings which she knows is wrong of her. She remembers when her grandmother Cece’s new boyfriend who is only 11 years older then her showed up a couple weeks ago and Cece introduced everyone to him that took awhile to get over, some of the grandchildren are still not over it. “I hope to meet her one day.” She leaves a kiss on her dads cheek. “I’m going to school see you later.”

Xxx

Before Lexi can leave she has to go get her two best friends identical twins Aiden and Ethan who live in their guest house but Lexi knows they like to take a morning swim.

So coming into the backyard from the kitchen she goes down the stairs off the Balcony. There is a little sitting area at the top of a slope which has long steps and water cascading in between the two staircases at the bottom of the slope there is a fountain surrounded by statues of the four seasons in their own alcove. To the right there is a bush/pathway to the pool which has a glass bottom. The 75 foot size pool is in the middle with potted trees on the sides. A table off to the side with an umbrella and chairs surrounding it, on the other side of the pool there are lounge chairs. Behind the pool is the pool house/dome.

The pool house/dome is practically another house, Its three floors. Before her mom died they would have pool parties all the time. The pool house lounge level always had drunk happy party people coming in and out of it, teen and adults alike.

The first floor is a living area is simple from the plain white and brown stripes of the wallpaper to the tan furniture. Her mom always said nobody will be looking at the walls when they enter this place. The white French style windows letting in the morning light over the navy blue curved couch underneath it with the red, white and blue striped pillows. The cushions of the couch have been washed so many times the blue has faded.

On the opposite side of the room is a fully stocked circular bar. In the middle of the room there is a tan matching table and chairs that seats eight people. Off to the side there is a door to a kitchen. Opposite the kitchen there is a doorway to a full changing room with lockers, and a floor to ceiling mirror.

When you walk into the living area the smell of popcorn and chlorine fill the air popcorn from the home theater with concession stand upstairs and chlorine from the indoor pool downstairs it never bothers anyone since they are so busy doing other stuff.

Her heels echo through the enclosed spiral staircase as she descends down to the lower level and opens the glass door to come into the indoor pool/jacuzzi room. All the rooms in the lower level have glass doors except for the sauna which has a wooden almost bamboo like door.

Aiden and Ethan are identical they are both lean and muscular and are of medium stature not only do they look alike but they have the same short reddish brown haircut which the sides of their hair are shaved shorter then the top of their hair but only by inches. Ethan is slightly taller then Aiden. They are currently in the indoor pool seeing who can do more laps. They are to occupied in competing with each other that they don’t notice Lexi. The main house and the dome are the only two homes on the estate that have spiral staircases.

Lexi, Aiden and Ethan have been best friends since they were two. Their moms were friends and Lexi’s mom had invited the twins mom over one day and she brought her two year old twins and the three have been inseparable ever since.

“Get out of the pool time for school.”

Both twins say at the same time. “Aww but mom.”

All three laugh. “You know how we all laughed when Aiden found that bra and joked my dad had a hooker.

They nod as Ethan is climb himself up out of the pool and Aiden is floating on his back to the side to get out. “Well turns out not a joke my dads been seeing a hooker named Alexis but not in a sexual payment way. There’s feelings involved. I just don’t know how to feel.”

“Aww honey we’re there for you whatever you need.”

“Yeah hon you can always stay with us in the guest house.”

Lexi smiles at them they can always make her feel better. “Thanks guys.”

Xxx

Beautiful red haired insanely smart and very social 19 year old Lydia Martin is awoken by her phone ringing. As she slides a hand out from underneath the covers and cracks an eye open to read the text from her best friend Allison Argent “Where are you? You didn’t come home last night.”

She notices the time out of the corner of her eye and her eyes widen and she quickly sits up waking the guy in bed next to her.

“Oh my god is that time I have to go.”

Lydia scrambles around his bedroom looking for her clothes from last night. As she is zipping up her ankle booties she leans back and kisses the guy in bed on the lips. “Last night was fun see you later.”

The twenty four year old brunette watches as Lydia hurries out of his apartment.

Xxx

“I had an idea.”

Lexi cuts Aiden off. “Aiden I love you I really do you and Ethan are the brothers I never had but because of your idea’s the police know where we live.”

“True but hear me out.”

Lexi pulls up to a stop sign and looks to Ethan who has the apprehension look on his face too. They both turn to look at Aiden in the backseat of the hot pink lamborghini convertible Lexi got for an eighteenth birthday present before she was driving a black Ferrari. Lexi has a couple different luxury cars and all of them are different colors. “Ok Aiden what is your idea?”

“We throw a party at the end of the year one last bash before summer.”

“Way to go Aiden you finally had a good idea.” Ethan leans back and hits his brother in the leg. Which earns him Aiden sticking his tongue out at his brother and Ethan laughing.

As the stop light turns green Lexi asks. “And where would we be having this party, I doubt there are many abandoned warehouses in Bel Air and our home yes it’s gorgeous but there are not many open area’s for people to party besides the pool.”

Aiden looks up into the rear view mirror and Lexi notices him. “I know what your thinking and I doubt people would drive a little over an hour to Montecito for a party. Even if our home there would be big enough.”

“Its a black light party and the night club would be perfect for it.”

As Lexi is pulling into a her spot behind the Kappa Kappa Gamma house on sorority row at UCLA she tells them. “I’ll ask my dad for the keys no promises he said he’s going to be out today so I might have to steal them. I love that home but it doesn’t get used often which is a shame its very beautiful.”

“All your family homes are beautiful.”

“Why are we at Kappa?”

It’s to early for anyone to be coming in and out of the house. Lexi mainly lives at the Forbes estate but some nights she spends at the sorority house. She loves being a kappa and with her friends but with the good comes the bad. “I left some lip liner here and I was looking for it this morning. See you later in psych.”

Xxx

The Kappa house is styled like an old Tuscany villa. As she is coming down the hallway from the kitchen to the stairs the front door opens and Lydia quietly comes in wearing the clothes she had on yesterday a red floral mock mini dress and black heels

Both girls hear voices calling them. One from the living room and one from the stairs.

Isaac Lahey who is tall with a lean and muscular build and dirty blonde hair that is slightly curly, and large deep set blue eyes. He is sitting in the living room in kappa waiting for his friend Erica Reyes to finish getting ready so they can go to class when Lexi walks past. Isaac has only been in America for six months and since Erica introduced him to Lexi Forbes he has thought she was so beautiful.

“Lexi hi.”

Lexi turns towards the living room and smiles at him, “Isaac are you waiting for Erica? I have to go upstairs anyway I’ll see what’s taking so long.”

Allison Argent and Malia Tate has come down the stairs and noticed Lydia just coming home. “Lydia spill, your still wearing the same clothes from last night.”

“Lydia Martin smartest women in the house is doing the walk of shame I’m so proud of you.”

Lexi puts arm around lydia’s shoulders as Lydia tells her friends. “It’s not a walk of shame and if you must know I maybe seeing someone. That is all the information I’m giving now I have to change I have class in fifteen minutes.”

Lexi opens her door to see her roommate Erica Reyes who is tall, lean and beautiful with light blonde hair and large brown eyes putting on her signature cheetah print pumps. “Isaac is downstairs, is it just me or did he get hotter?”

Erica flips her light blonde hair out from underneath her black leather jacket. ‘It’s just you, maybe you should ask him out?”

Lexi looks at her through the mirror as she puts on her pink lip liner. “Maybe I will.”

Xxx

Later that morning Lexi sits between Aiden and Ethan in psychology. “I’m going to go back to the estate for lunch and see if my dads there and get the keys to the Montecito home.”

Lydia walks past them to her seat with Allison and Malia next to her Aiden leans forward and calls out to them. “Hi Lydia.”

Lydia looks back at them and raises an eyebrow. “The answer is still no.”

Lexi and Ethan laugh. Ever since Aiden met Lydia he has asked her out multiple times and every time she has rejected him. “What is that now 112?”

“No I think it’s closer to 174. We should of kept a tally.”

Aiden glares back at his best friend and twin brother. Erica walks past them and Lexi leans over and whispers in Aiden’s ear. “Since Lydia is never going to say yes, she came into Kappa this morning doing a walk of shame. Rumor has it she is having a fling with one of the campus security guards Jordan Parrish. Maybe ask Erica out you know she’s been a little down since Stiles left for Quantico.”

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at Erica laugh at something Boyd said.

A couple minutes into class the professor has not shown up, “ If the professor doesn’t show up we’re leaving.”

Ethan leans over to his brother. “If he doesn’t show up want to go for coffee.”

Aiden nods and they both look at Lexi.“Someone rushed us out of the house this morning before we could grab anything for breakfast.”

“Not my fault you decided to go for competition rounds this morning instead of your usual fifty.”

As everyone is getting up to leave a handsome guy in tan pants, and a long white sleeve shirt comes in. “I’m your new professor, your last professor has had a mental breakdown so I will be taking over my name is Derek Hale.”

Allison leans over to Lydia. “He’s cute.”

Lydia shrugs her shoulders.

Ethan leans over to Lexi, “He is cute.”

“I think his mom is my business professor. Plus don’t you think your hands full with Jackson and Danny.”

He runs a finger down her nose. “Don’t be jealous.”

She scrunches up her face at him.

Jackson who is sitting next to Danny a couple rows in front of them looks behind him and spots Ethan they share a smile.

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the car gallery she notices all her father’s cars are here so he hasn’t left yet. Off of the car gallery is the temperature controlled wine room and an elevator. The elevator takes her up to the bedrooms level of the mansion which is the second floor. Her dad has the biggest bedroom on the floor. On a daily basis only two of the eleven bedrooms get used.

Peter Forbes’ bedroom has two sets of double doors, the first set opens up to a little hallway with a private elevator that almost never gets used, and extra shelving. The second set of doors opens up into the bedroom across from double doors are three sets of double doors to go out to a balcony. The amount of natural light coming into the room makes the black silk sheets shine. Across from the bed is a marble two sided fireplace and tv. On each side of the marble is a black bench.

As Lexi’s perfectly painted purple sparkly nails wrap around the first set of door knobs her phone rings with one hand she reaches in her back pocket and grabs her phone while turning the knob. It’s a text from Isaac. ‘My next class is not for another two hours I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or coffee.’

‘I’m not on campus right now but will be back soon I’d love to do lunch or coffee. I’ll text you when I get back.’

She is focused on her phone when she opens the second set of doors and walks into her fathers room. “Hey dad. The keys to the-“ Lexi finishes her text and puts her phone back in her pocket. “Oh my god.”

The black silk sheets are all messed up because her father is on top of a brunette very pretty woman who she assumes is Alexis and thrusting into her.

Lexi looks up to the ceiling. “Put some clothes on. I have a simple question, I’ll just wait downstairs.” As she is walking backwards she announces. “Nice to meet you Alexis.”

“Door.” As Peter is rolling off her and pulling the sheet over both of them.

Lexi nods but to late she hits the side with her back. “I’m ok.”

Xxx

Peter scrambles out of his bed and grabs his jeans. He finds his daughter in her room throwing clothes in a bag. “What are doing?”

“I can’t sleep here tonight, I also can’t get the image of you thrusting into that woman out of my head.”

“Her name is Alexis, and when I told you about her this morning you didn’t seem to have any problems and you were nice just now to her.”

Lexi turns back to her father who never did grab a shirt so he’s in fitted blue jeans and nothing else. “I was faking it. I had other things on my mind when you told me. Thankfully my business class is in the morning because there is no way I would of focused on that test after this. I’m tempted to skip my afternoon class I’m so traumatized but I have a coffee date and I drove Ethan and Aiden so I can’t.”

Peter rubs his forehead this family can be so dramatic. The whole family the whole Forbes/Salvatore family is one big rich dramatic family. “This is not how I wanted this to go. Also where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll sleep at the sorority house or the guest house. What do you mean you never wanted it to go this way. How did you want this to go?”

Peter is leaning against the wall just inside her bedroom with his arms crossed and his toned physic on display. “Eventually I wanted to invite her over and have you two meet. Did you only have morning classes?’

Lexi is still in her big walk in closet where her clothes are sorted into sections of party clothes, tops, pants/skirts/shorts, dresses, sweaters/jackets. The back wall is just one big shoe rack with heels, wedges, boots. All her jewelry is in the glass top island in the middle of the closet. Her belts are hung up on each side of the shoe wall.

“No my next class is not till 1:30 I need the keys to the Montecito home we were thinking of throwing a end of the year beginning of the summer party.”

“We meaning Aiden?”

Lexi nods, “We meaning Aiden had the idea but after telling us Ethan and I thought it was a good idea. A black light party in the night club would be perfect. Think about it live band on the polo field black light party in the nightclub. Plus the home does not get used enough to this party would really show the home some love.”

“I don’t like that this was Aiden’s idea, let’s hope this does not end with the Montecito police being called. The keys are in my office. What is it about Alexis you do not like.”

She turns back to her dad she can’t believe this question she barely knows the woman. “Other then the fact that I hardly know her and then see her getting rammed by my dad. She looks a couple years older then me and our names are similar.”

“She’s twenty six almost twenty seven I didn’t even realize the name thing.”

Lexi picks up her bag and as she is leaving she notes. “Why is this a theme in this family Cece cougar is with Chris who is thirty, you and Alexis who twenty six and a half, and Uncle Sawyer who has had sex with a hooker too.... Maybe the same one.”

Lexi gets halfway down the stairs when Peter calls after her. “We are not done with this get back here.”

The blonde turns around on the white with black and brown fabric spiral staircase. Her father is coming down to meet her. The light is shining on them through the three windows on the side of the stairs and there is a chandelier hanging from the cathedral high ceiling of the white marble grand foyer showering the grand foyer in natural light.

“I’m not a cougar like Cece, Alexis and I there is a relationship there. You know not to bring up Uncle Sawyer. Plus for us to have the same woman he would have to stay in the same place for more then a few days.”

“He’s been in Europe for a while, can you blame him for not wanting to come to America his money was withheld from him and he was in that plane crash. Are you forgetting Alexis is a hooker she sleeps with men for money and makes them feel good about themselves while she does. I do not want you to get hurt when you realize this.”

While the two forbes are on the stairs having this conversation their staff is busing around the estate some are cleaning, some are making food but nobody wants to go into the foyer.

Peter puts a hand on his daughters upper arm it’s just been the two of them for almost five years. No matter how old Lexi is she is always going to care and want to protect her dads feelings. His wife and her mom’s death hit them both hard.

“She’s an escort she is not just playing me. I know what I’m doing.”

Lexi nods. “Why couldn’t you decide to sleep with the sorority house mom Melissa or anyone else.”

Peter laughs “You know us forbes we don’t fall for the boy or girl next door.”

“True Aunt Liz is dating a drug kingpin.”

“That wedding when it happens will be interesting.”

XXX

Erica, Lydia, Allison and Malia are walking Greek row back to the house when they see campus patrol officer Jordan Parrish, young twenty four brunette Parrish. “Good after noon ladies. Miss Martin I found this on the ground and was wondering if it was yours?”

Parrish holds out a gold bracelet that Lydia was wearing last night as she takes it they share a smile. Alison Erica and Malia are watching this and once Parrish walks past them all three girls look at the red head. “Oh my god you and Jordan Parrish.”

“ Scandalous.”

“He’s hot.”

Lydia puts a finger up to her lips “Will you please keep it down.” They are passing Kappa Kappa Theta who tries to compete with Kappa Kappa Gamma. They do not need the president of Theta Hayden Romeo knowing this piece of gossip to use against Lydia and Gamma.

Once they get past Theta Lydia keeping her voice down tells her friends “Yes I’ve been seeing Jordan Parrish. “

All three girls get a text from their house mother Melissa McCall. “House meeting 3’o’clock.”

Kira is in Japanese history when her phone vibrates.

Xxx

Peter runs a hand through his hair before he returns to his bedroom expecting to find Alexis waiting for him in bed but the bed is empty, he glances in his big walk in closet his side is full of clothes his wife’s side is empty. A year after her death Lexi and him mustered up the courage to clean out her side of the closet they sold of the clothes but kept most of it and is now in storage.

He finds Alexis in his big en-suite bathroom she is in his bathtub which is full of bubbles. He bends down next to her. “I’m sorry about that earlier.”

She smiles at him and cups his chin with her hand which is dripping water on the floor. “Usually it’s the wife that walks in this is the first time a daughter has walked in on me.”

“How would you like to meet her?”

Her eyes widen and she drops all flirtation. “Excuse me she just walked in on us and you want the three of us to have a sit down dinner family style.”

Peter lets out a sigh and reaches out to push back a piece of her brunette hair behind her ear. “Of course not but maybe a actual meeting where nobody is caught having sex.”

Alexis puts her hand on her chin on the side of the porcelain tub. “She is not going to accept me. I doubt she will even take me serious I’m an escort who is dating her father.”

Xxx

While driving back to campus Lexi is tapping her finger against the stirring wheel, her phone rings but she’s busy driving so she doesn’t answer. When she gets back to Campus and meets Isaac at one of the coffee carts and after they get their coffee’s they both get French vanilla Frappuccino’s.

They sit down and while Isaac is talking about how he loves California he misses London Lexi is tapping her finger against the cup. “Are you ok?”

His voice pulls her out the trance she was in while he was talking she didn’t mean for it to happen. “Huh... oh yeah just a lot on my mind and Ethan and Aiden have a class I can’t tell them.”

Isaac feels bad for the sad blonde in front of him he likes her and he wishes she would confine in him. “Maybe I can help.”

She smiles at him it’s sweet he is offering to help her. “ Thanks maybe another time I will take a hug if your offering.”

They stand up and Isaac wraps his arms around her and she snuggles her head into his neck and he can feel her breath of relief during their hug.

Xxx

As Peter is walking her to the door something has been bugging him since Lexi mentioned he knows she brought it up tp hurt him but he has to know. “By any chance have you ever been with a tall, attractive I guess, super annoying, egocentric, has nicknames for everyone, blonde shaggy hair, wears leather jackets or button up shirts, probably conned you out of some money guy named Sawyer?”

Alexis stops at the front door and thinks about it everyone before Peter was a one and done. Peter is the first where they come back to each other and she enjoys him. “I don’t think so why do you know a Sawyer?”

Peter smirks as he open the door but she doesn’t see. “No.”

Xxx

House meeting always take place in the living room. There is a very open living layout of the house. There is a fireplace which is not used often since California and two couches with a table between them. There are a few chairs in the room too, two in front of the windows and one on the other side of the room in the corner. Above the fireplace there a photo of everyone in the house in front of the house.Lexi and Erica are always next to each other during house meetings and usually leaning against the pillars on each side of the entrance of the living room. Allison and Lydia are sitting in the chairs in front of the windows and the other girls are filling into the room. When everyone is there house mom Melissa McCall who is a mom to all the young ladies in the house but also a trained nurse and helps out in the hospital part of the school. Her long brown curly hair is dangling over her shoulders as she addresses all the ladies.

“Friday night is movie night and our annual sisters retreat is coming up where do you girls want to go.”

“Vegas.” Malia looks down at Lydia since Malia is sitting on the arm of her chair. “We all know she wants to go to Vegas to gamble.” Lydia nods.

“Mexico.”

Melissa looks over at the two girls sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, “Not twenty one and let’s keep it in America.”

“Aspen.”

“Who knows how to ski or snowboard.”

Half of the girls raise their hands including Lexi, Erica, Allison, Lydia and Malia and her roommate Kira.

Erica leans over to Lexi and whispers. “I remember the last time we went to aspen us, the twins and your parents for winter break. We had so much fun.”

Lexi smiles at the memory then gets sad because that was their last winter with her mom. “We did have a lot of fun. My dad is thinking of selling the place since we haven’t been there in a while.”

“Aspen it is, Now does anyone have any homes in Aspen or are we staying in a hotel?”

Most of the girls look up at Lexi. Some of the girls are jealous that Lexi has so much money and can have anything she wants on the outside looking in her life looks perfect little do they know her life is more dramatic then perfect. Her life may not be as dramatic as her cousins in New York City but she still deals with dramatic moments.

Melissa notices the young ladies look at Lexi. She’s heard their snide comments about Lexi, Melissa is privy to all the gossip in the house. As house mother Melissa is to care for these ladies and she treats them like her children. She also has a son who goes to UCLA Scott when he drops by the house sometimes the younger ladies of the house go crazy and surround him.

“Meeting dismissed. Lexi can I speak with you for a moment.”

Erica and Lexi share a look they both know what Melissa wants to ask her.

Xxx

Peter’s black Shelby 1000 Cobra pulls up outside his hotel and the valet take the keys and park it while he goes in and and makes sure everything is still running smoothly.

Xxx

Aiden and Ethan have been waiting behind Kappa for Lexi for almost fifteen minutes when she comes out. “What was going on in there and why do you have a duffel bag in the backseat?”

“House meeting were going to Aspen and guess where everyone is staying if you guessed our home you are correct.”

Ethan and Aiden share a look of worry as the doors unlock and they get in. Sure they could of got in before the doors were unlocked its a convertible and there is no hood but they are respectful of the Forbes family.

Lexi pulls up to a stoplight on sunset strip and her fingers are tapping on the steering wheel. The light turns green and she does not drive Aiden who is in the backseat looks behind them at a car and before the car can honk he waves his hand for the car to go around them. Ethan leans over and puts a hand on Lexi’s shoulder. “Are you ok hon.”

That touch of familiarity brings her out of her haze, “Huh oh right um.” She goes to put the car in park and Ethan puts a hand over hers. “I don’t know what’s wrong but before we get into an accident or someone flips us off I’m driving.”

Lexi does get to pull the car off to the side so they are not in the road. Ethan gets in the driver seat while Lexi is in the passengers seat and Aiden slides over so he’s behind the passengers seat then behind the driver seat.

Aiden slides his hands on each of the head rest and massages Lexi’s shoulders while she puts her head on the headrest and closes her eyes. Ethan takes a breath and looks in the mirror at his brother and they nod at each other. They live at the forbes estate and Lexi’s calls them the brothers she never had but they never drive the Forbes cars and this is a custom Lamborghini.

Once they are back on the road and headed to Montecito. Aiden asks “What happened to you this afternoon? You were fine when we left psychology.”

Lexi leans forward and runs a hand through her long blonde hair. “I met her when I went home to get the keys.”

“Met her as in....”

“Yes well met is not the right word saw her today.”

Ethan still keeping his eyes on the highway asks. “Saw her, saw her where?”

Lexi turns towards him and raises an eyebrow. Both twins at the same time go. “Ewww.”

“Yeah can’t get it out of my head. Forgot to mention I’m sleeping in the guest house tonight its still to fresh to step on the bedroom floor.”

“Totally get it.”

“So what is she like?”

Lexi looks back at Aiden in the rear view mirror. “Seriously.”

He shrugs and she sighs “Young she’s twenty six and a half brunette hair and has long dangling feather earrings and tattoos I couldn’t see what tattoos I was busy averting my eyes from the image of my dad thrusting into her.”

Xxx

Once they are through the gate and up the long driveway leading to the courtyard of the house. Since they are not going to be here long they just park outside the home not in the garage.

As they enter the octagon shaped grand foyer with natural lighting streaming in from a skylight, glass chandelier hanging down from the ceiling. A pink couch against the wall below a painting opposite the front doors are there are stairs going into the main house. “I love being in a sorority, but with the exception of Erica, Lydia Allison, Malia and Kira everyone thinks I’m made of money and I can just throw money at every situation. News flash people just because I’m rich doesn’t mean I have to spent it on you and stop expecting me too, plus stop expecting me to give up our homes as a place for you to use. Our home in Aspen we might be putting up for sale so we might not have it anymore but everyone just expects me to give up our home to host retreats. So they can brag we have a Forbes in our sorority. I just wished they wanted me as a person and not as Forbes.”

Both Ethan and Aiden put an arm around her shoulders. “We love you as you not because your a Forbes.”

They go through the mansion and where other homes have basements this home has a nightclub, wine tasting room, wellness center, sports bar and movie theater. The nightclub has a dj booth, six area’s for seating including white chairs, sofa and tables. On the far side there are doors to go out to the pool but with the black shades down it darkens the room to make it have more of the club vibe.

While Aiden is looking around the room planning the party in his head Ethan and Lexi flop onto one of the white fluffy love seats. Lexi has her head back and her eyes closed. “You need a massage after the afternoon you’ve had.”

“The masseuse is not here.”

Ethan smiles as he stands and grabs her hands to pull her up. “You go to the wellness center and I’ll call her or him then we’ll leave, it will give you time to get a massage, Aiden enough time to check this area out and I’ll be in the find something to do. Maybe catch a movie.”

“You love living vicariously through my heiress life.”

Ethan goes to open his mouth but Aiden who is at the clear dj booth which when on changes colors answers. “Yeah but don’t lie you love your heiress life.”

Lexi shrugs her shoulders “Your right I do its a hard life but someone has to live it.”

They laugh as Ethan slides his arm through Lexi’s linking their arms by the elbow. “Now my dear you are coming with me and Aiden is calling a masseuse.”

At the end of hallway there is three steps then a door and inside the door is the wellness center. A little waiting room with chairs, and a water jug and a little fridge with cucumbers and lemons to make cucumber and lemon water. There is a little changing room with robes, next to the massage room with two massage tables always ready.

As they are waiting for the masseuse Lexi and Ethan are just sitting on the table’s Lexi has a robe on ready to go when the masseuse gets here.

“By summer I’m going to choose between Jackson and Danny. I know I can not keep stringing them along.”

“I choose Jackson only because yes you and Danny are cute together he’s a hot guy from Nebraska he doesn’t understand the luxury of our lives, I think he’s only seen the guest house but was still surprised by it. Meanwhile Jackson is from Malibu he understands our lifestyles better. Plus while you and Danny are adorable you and Jackson are hot.”

The doorbell echo’s through the empty long halls of the mansion.Lexi slides off the table to get it but Ethan stops her “I’ll get it.”

Ethan opens the door to a cute tall man with light blonde hair, hazel eyes and stubble on his chin and mustache. “Cute you’ll do, let me show you to the massage room.”

When they enter Ethan hops back on the other table while Lexi is laying on her stomach and leans up to look at the masseur.”mmmh.”

While he is getting everything ready Ethan and Lexi are continuing their conversation like there was no interruptions. “So I can either be adorable or hot?”

“What is Aiden’s thought?”

”Jackson.”

The masseur slides his hands down Lexi’s bare back and up her shoulders. “Your shoulders have new stress.”

“Very new.”

“I’m going to text Melissa instead of going to Aspen in march why not come here for the retreat this home has everything.”

The masseur hands move from the knots in her shoulders to her lower back and Ethan agrees. “Good idea, since your selling the Aspen house that home could be gone by march.”

“Considering where it is and how much it is I doubt someone will snatch it up quickly plus its not even on market yet.”

Ethan stands up and bends down to be face to face with her “Have fun I’m going to the theater.”

“This is a beautiful home you have here Miss-“

Lexi even though her head is through the hole on the table she smiles all she can see is his black jeans and black shoes. “Forbes, Lexi Forbes you can just call me Lexi if you want.”

“Oliver.” He moves his hands from her back to her leg and runs them down her legs massaging the tissue.

Lexi loves to get a massage it’s more then just a spa day activity for her, it’s a relaxation thing where her life is so hectic people always around but when she gets a massage it’s just her and the masseur or masseuse.

“You really do have a beautiful home Lexi.”

“Thank you its one of my favorites.”

Oliver has made her flip and has gone back to the shoulders. “Was that your boyfriend that let me in.”

Lexi lets out a little laugh. “No that is one of my best friends his twin is around here somewhere.”

Xxx

After her massage she walks Oliver out, “Hope to see you again.” He nods as he leaves.

After Lexi changes back into a pair of teal skinny jeans a white tank top and a grey sweater with tan knee high stiletto boots and a white and tan purse. She has matched it with tan sunglasses and her rose gold diamond choker her mom gave her and a couple rings. She finds Ethan in the soundproof movie theater. “What movie is this?”

“Couldn’t decide didn’t want to get invested only to be interrupted.”

“Ready to go home?”

Ethan puts an arm around her shoulders as they leave. “I’m driving?”

Lexi smiles she might have just created a Lamborghini monster letting Ethan drive. “I feel great after the massage my mind is clear the shock is wearing off. Oliver really knows his stuff.”

“Ohhh Oliver.”

Lexi shoves him as they enter the night club and find Aiden on one of the couches. “Shut up. Ready to go hon?”

Aiden nods as he joins his twin and best friend. “Coming here really was what was needed today.”

Xxx

Lexi pulls her car into the gallery and they take a golf cart to the guest house. The estate is so big that there are several golf carts around the estate. If they don’t want to walk or are tired they can just get on a golf cart.

Xxx

Jordan Parrish is having trouble putting his key in his door while he has one hand holding Lydia up and she has her legs around his waist and peppering his neck with kisses. After a couple more tries he does get the door open.

Lydia’s lips go from peppering his neck to attacking his lips.

Xxx

Romania:

Six foot shaggy blonde haired Sawyer Forbes he has stubble on his chin and mustache. His innocent face and his smooth talking gets him in and out of so many problems he’s got himself into over the years. He walks into the bar and spots a familiar brunette at the bar and smirks. “We just keep running into each other freckles you going to tell me your name this time.”

The brunette turns around and smirks up at him. “Hello Sawyer your place or mine.”

He downs a shot and smiles down at her. “We went to mine in London so your place here.”

She downs her shot before picking up her coat “Your place last time my place this time if this happens a third where will we go that time?”

“Depends on where we are.”

She flips her hair out from underneath her coat and looks back at him. “It’s Kate.”

He smirks and puts an arm out “Lead the way freckles.”

#Forbes #lexi branson #ethan and aiden #Lexi Forbes #peter Forbes #lydia martin #erica reyes #isaac lahey #my writing

21 notes · View notes

ladytrelaw · 4 years

Text

Nothing Like a Lord

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998838

Thinking about how Grinpayne’s only experience of young lords/highborns who grew up in court would have been Josiana and Dirry-Moir, and how our self-destructive anxious boy would definitely have questioned his character identity if he grew up in the same system as they did. Thanks @ratcarney for inspiring me to write again and actually finish this drabble that’s been sitting in my notes. Set in the new world which you know means that sweet sweet crimson lethe withdrawal.....

***

He’s bored. He’s so very, very bored; everything from his pianoforte in the sitting room to his library in the study filling him with nothing more than a dull greyness. He flops into a chair at the dining room table, swinging his legs over the arms in one smooth movement, and voices his grievances despairingly. The man at the head of the table raises an eyebrow, but does not look up.

“If you’re so bored you can come with me to hear the people’s complaints this afternoon.”

Well. That’s not what he meant at all.

He tells his father so, voice curving upward in a pitiful whine, but his father simply turns a page of his book and motions a servant for more tea.

“If you’re going to inherit my estate,” he says calmly, “you had better start learning how to run it. Listening to the people is a part of that duty.”

“But they’re so ugly and pathetic, Father” he points out, rising from the dining table only to collapse dramatically on his back in the window seat. “It makes me feel truly ill to be near them, you can’t expect me to endure it.”

“I don’t just expect you to, I’m ordering you to.” His father says, in the tone that allows no further argument, and he tips his head back with a groan of resignation. The day, already dreary, has just been utterly ruined.

***

The chair in the welcoming chamber is stiff and rigid, and he has to sit with his hands neatly folded in his lap and his feet firmly on the floor. He fidgets uncomfortably, eyeing the grounds outside the window with bitter longing and only stopping his squirming at a sharp glance from his father. The older man raises a hand, ushering the next pitiful creatures forward to moan and gripe about some trivial matter or other, and he keeps from rolling his eyes only with monumental effort.

The family that step forward is small, just an old, weary man and a young girl with the most peculiar silvery-white hair holding onto his arm. They’re both filthy, of course - peasants always are - but at least the girl seems to have made something of an effort to not appear utterly despondent, with a light purple crocheted cloak of sorts hanging over the usual assortment of rags that always turns his stomach to look at. He leans forward slightly as the man coughs and bows before speaking.

“My lord, I come to you with a plea on behalf of my daughter. I am a potion-maker, and I rely on certain ingredients to brew not just the tonics that I sell at market but also the medicine that will keep sickness at bay when the winter comes.” He pauses, hesitating. “The harvest has been poor this year, my lord, as I’m sure you know, and I’ve been unable to source many of the ingredients I need. Without them, our income has suffered, and I have no medicine for my daughter.” He pulls his daughter forward slightly, and she looks up towards where the Lord and his son sit with a blank expression. Rude child, he thinks, to not have the decency to look her benefactors in the face.

“She is already blind, your lordship. A small donation from the grace of your heart would go towards making sure she suffers no further.”

Ah. That explains the blank stare, at least. He turns to see what his father will make of this wretched man and his defective daughter, but to his surprise when he looks over he finds those familiar cold eyes already turned on him.

“My son is learning the intricacies of managing an estate,” his father says coolly, addressing the peasants without looking at them. “He will respond to your plight as he sees fit.”

He turns, surprised, to look back at the peasants whose fortune he now apparently holds in his hands. A flicker of something crosses the old man’s face, so fast he almost misses it… but not fast enough. It was a flash of offence, of irritation, plain as day. He narrows his eyes. So this pauper thinks he’s not good enough to preside over them as his father does? Very well.

He sits up straighter, lifting his chin.

“You say you’re a potion maker?”

“That’s right, my, uh, my lord,” the man says, bowing his head slightly in deference, but not nearly as deep a bow as he gave his father. Hesitating over his title too, the nerve of it.

“Well then, what will you do with any money we give you?” He scoffs, leaning forwards. “Buy medicine from your competitors?”

“If that’s what it takes, then yes” The old man says through gritted teeth, glaring up at him as though he has any right to be so insolent. His heart, already hardened, grows icy.

“And how much money, exactly, would you be asking for?”

The man starts to speak, but he cuts across him.

“And how much will the man after you ask for, who is also living through the bad harvest? And the man after him, and after him?”

The peasant at this point is growing red with rage, but in response he simply smiles sweetly; the picture of innocence.

“We help those who are needy, sir, not those who have simply failed to plan for a bad season. If your daughter grows sick, you have nothing to blame but your own poor preparation. Good day.”

He turns to gauge his father’s reaction, but a voice rings out, snatching his attention back.

“You know nothing of darkness.”

It’s the girl with the strange silver hair, her eyes milky-white with blindness more visible now as she steps out of her father’s grasp into a beam of light falling through the window. She smiles, and he feels his blood begin to boil as she continues. “You know nothing of pain, or suffering, and therefore you know nothing of the world. You cannot govern that which you do not know, and it will be your downfall.”

Her voice is soft, but he could not be struck more dumb if she had shouted. His mouth hangs open for a moment.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” he hisses, rising from his seat even as the old man pulls the girl back hurriedly. “Do you not comprehend who I am? How much power I have over you? What I could do to you?”

The old man is stammering apologies, all insolence wiped from his face now, but it is too little, too late. He chances a look at his father, who is frowning but making no move to intervene. Perfect.

“In fact,” he says, emboldened by the knowledge that he truly has been entrusted with power over these two miserable creatures at least. “I think a display of insolence like yours should be made an example of. I won’t stand for it, before or after I inherit this estate.”

The old man starts begging, pleading, knowing what’s about to come, but he holds up a hand and two guards stride forward to silence him. They pull him struggling away from the girl who now stands alone, blind and with no one to guide her. The chamber falls silent. He sits down once more, taking a moment to adjust his gown before leaning forward, savouring the weight of the words on his tongue.

“You’re going to die come winter anyway, according to your father. I’m simply speeding up the process.”

He smiles widely, baring his teeth like a wolf.

“Take her to be hanged.”

***

He’ll be reprimanded for this later, he knows that. But it’s not as though his father will make a scene here in court by jumping to the rescue of this one peasant girl, and besides, she was the last straw in an utterly miserable day. In his mind hanging is a perfectly reasonable punishment, and it will at least mean the evening will be at least partly salvaged with some mild entertainment.

He leans back, waiting for the inevitable screaming and wailing and begging that usually follows a proclamation like this.

But it never comes.

Instead, the peasant girl looks him in the eye, and says his name.

Well, almost says it. She gets stuck on the first syllable, her pretty little mouth curving in all the wrong ways, lips turning out when they should be turning in. Truth be told, she’s butchering it, really, and he almost laughs. ‘Grinpayne’, as though she can’t even speak-

She says it again, insistent, and he frowns. This is not how it is supposed to go. She is supposed to scream and cry and struggle, fighting his soldiers as they drag her out into the streets where she belongs, and instead she’s ruining it all, standing there so brazenly and butchering a perfectly good lordly name-

Grinpayne, says Dea.

He freezes.

Her name is Dea.

The girl he knows, the girl he loves. The girl he has just ordered to be executed.

Her name is Dea.

His world explodes in pain, and he wakes up screaming.

***

For a short while after he wakes, all Grinpayne can focus on is agony. With nothing to numb it besides Dea’s calming voice and tight grip on his trembling hands, the pain is excruciating, but it passes relatively quickly. He’s growing stronger, faster now at recovering than those first few weeks after they’d left Catherine Palace; weeks that Grinpayne barely remembers and Dea refuses to talk about; weeks where the pain had been so bad he’d struggled even to breathe for hours at a time. Now, it is only a few minutes before his nerves stop screaming and he’s able to unclench his taut muscles slightly, to relax a little into Dea’s patient embrace. She brushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and presses a kiss there before resting her own brow against his and nuzzling his nose, her arms wrapped around his neck.

“What did you dream of?” she breathes, and he shudders slightly. He’d been so focused on fighting the wave of pain that he’d almost forgotten the hideous vision he’d been ripped from.

“I was a lord.” He says slowly, and she laughs softly.

“You are a lord,” she reminds him, but he grimaces, shaking his head and pulling away from her a little.

“I dreamed that I… that I grew up as a lord. In a palace. My parents were alive, and I’d never been cut, and I…” he trails off, unable to voice it. Dea frowns.

“And you...?” She prompts gently

He allows himself to look at her, the moonlight lighting her hair up silvery white. She is almost otherworldly in her beauty, an angel in the bed of a monster, and it cuts him to his core.

“I was so cruel” he whispers, the word lodging in his throat and breaking as it comes out. “I was spoilt and petulant, and…”

She takes his hand in hers, raising it to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles.

“What happened, Grinpayne?” She asks, her voice not a breath above a murmur. He swallows.

“You came to ask us for help, you and Ursus, to ask for aid after a poor harvest, and my father instructed me to make the decision, and I… I said…”

He can’t repeat it, he can’t tell her what he did, but she’s waiting, so lovely in the moonlight, so trusting, and he never could lie to her. He takes a shaking breath, closing his eyes and realising as he does so that his lashes are wet.

“I sentenced you to hang, Dea. Because I was bored, because I could. I-” his breath catches, a sob choking him. He opens his eyes, forcing himself to look at the pained face of his love as a stray tear slips over the jagged grooves of his cheek. “I executed you.”

She shakes her head; a tiny movement in the dark of their room.

“My love, it was just a dream. I’m right here.”

“But what if that’s what I would have become?” he hisses, desperate for her to understand for once the beast that he’s always known he must be, the monster everyone else can see slashed across his face as plain as day. “If I’d grown up in the court, who’s to say I wouldn’t have been like that? Who’s to say I wouldn’t have done that to you?”

“You would never have been a man like that, Grinpayne.” She says firmly, gripping his hands more tightly in her own. “Your parents were good people, they would have raised you to be a fair ruler-”

“My parents lived on an estate while people like your mother froze in the snow, Dea, I inherited a castle for god’s sake-”

“Your parents were killed because they fought that system, Grinpayne!” She interrupts, her voice rising as she refuses to allow him to talk over her. “They were kind and fair and just; everyone who knew them has told us so. You of all people should know titles aren’t everything, Grinning Man. Don’t discredit their memory because of their position. ”

She reaches up and cradles his cheek in her hand, and he can’t stop himself leaning into her touch, even as guilt rages through him. She wipes her thumb over his cheekbone, frowning unhappily at the wetness she finds there. “Your only experience of the court was at Catherine Palace.” She says slowly, firmly, as though teaching something to a small child. “The people you met there were spoiled and thoughtless because they were the children of an awful man, the man your parents died fighting, and even his children were made better by meeting you.” She moves her hand from his cheek to press against his bare chest, right over his heart.

“You’re a good man, Grinpayne. In this life and in every life.”

He says nothing, not trusting himself to speak as she shifts forward and pulls him into her embrace. He tries to resist, but her touch is intoxicating and he can’t help himself; he ducks his head and curls into her like a child, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck as she runs her fingers through his hair soothingly, teasing out the tangles in his curls. After a while she gently shifts them both down in the bed so that they’re lying flat once more, limbs entwining automatically. He traces the edge of her jaw with his finger. She is so beautiful.

“I will never deserve you, Dea. In any life.”

She silences him with a kiss, and it is softness and kindness and goodness in a single touch. When sleep takes them both once again he dreams not of palaces or princes but of her, his Beauty, his love, his own soul. In this life. In every life. For ever.

#the grinning man #the grinning man fic #tgm fic #is this a lil ooc? Maybe #was it fun to write? absolutely #gwynplaine trelaw #grinpayne #dea tgm

31 notes · View notes

trashboatprince · 4 years

Text

I had another idea for Tentoo and Rose, and I had to write it up.

Summery: Clearly, if you’re going to be living in a new world where you can’t just always get away with psychic paper to get into places, you’re gonna have come up with an identity for yourself.

And that includes a name.

So, Rose and the Doctor have an afternoon to kill, why not figure out what works best for the guy?

The name I give Tentoo is pretty much my headcanon name for him, do with it what you will. Also, the names suggested are mostly for fun.

On with the fic!

To Name a Doctor

A thwump sound caught the Doctor’s attention from the banana he was peeling, and his attention was drawn to the puce folder in front of him. It was still weird that puce was the color for folders rather than manilla in this universe, but it was the little things that seemed to catch his attention more than the big things.

Like how the chips here were terrible and he was working on genetically modifying a root vegetable in order to make actual, good chips.

The Doctor looked up at Rose who sat on the opposite side of the kitchen’s bar, gently pushing the folder closer to him. “Dad wanted me to give you these yesterday, but I forgot them in the car last night.”

“And they are…?” He asked, opening it up to see documents that required him to fill out information.

“Well, they’re identification papers that Dad and I wrote up yesterday over lunch. You’ve been here for over a week now and you’ve done a number of things but have not given yourself an identity here.” Rose replied and the Doctor set down his banana, giving this a little bit of thought.

Yes, in just his ten days here in Pete’s World, he’s built himself a screwdriver, bought himself some clothes, pretty much moved into Rose’s room (though he technically had his own in the Tyler estate until he and Rose found their own place), and had gotten on Jackie’s nerves at least thirty nine times. Oh, and he was able to properly identify and disarm an alien gas bomb that Torchwood had discovered through a phone call with Pete.

But Rose was right, he had yet to do anything about giving himself ‘official’ documents here. Rose had her own made forever ago, excellent fakes, no one could tell that they weren’t real, which means he’d have to get himself some too.

“Hmm… do we have anything planned today?” The brunet asked as he looked over the papers.

“Nope.” Rose spoke, popping the P. “So, wanna lie on some documents?”

The Doctor’s grin rivaled the one his girlfriend shared, and he took the pen she offered him. She got up from her seat, saying she was gonna make them some tea and he nodded, looking down at the papers in front of him.

“Alright, let’s fill out the easy stuff.” He commented, quickly writing down his weight, height, hair and eye color for IDs and ‘updated’ information, before hitting the roadblocks. “Birth date… hmmm, what do you think works best? Christmas Day, or when the meta-crisis happened?”

Rose looked over her shoulder, confused. “Christmas Day?”

“You know, when…?” The Doctor raised his right hand, wiggling his fingers.

This got a laugh out of the blonde as she put the kettle on the stove. “Oh, that’s a good one! I’d say Christmas, I mean, technically it was the day you were born, both as the hand and as the new Doctor.”

“Well, actually, I was regenerated on that day in the Game Station, and we arrived back on Earth on Christmas Eve, but still, close enough!” The part-Time Lord wrote down December 25th on the document before frowning. “Okay, parents… technically myself and Donna.”

“Then put down John Smith and Donna Noble.” Rose snickered. “Oh, I bet they’d have real laugh about that.”

“Donna might! Before she’d get angry about it. ‘Oi, spaceman! I am not gonna be your mother, even if I did help make you’!” The Doctor spoke, putting on his best impression of the fiery redhead, which sounded way too much like her, so he quickly shut his mouth. Rose burst out laughing at this and he scowled, before laughing as well. He quickly wrote down the names before pausing.

“I do have to give myself a name. John Smith won’t work. I mean, it’s worked a number of times, but some people are so suspicious of how generic it is, ya know? And I’m technically another version of the Doctor, still him, but upgrade, in a sense.” Like Hell he’d say he was downgrade.

Rose shrugged. “You could be a junior, or a second.”

The Doctor made a face. “Hmm… I dunno… maybe I could try for a new name? Something a bit different. What do you think of David?” He asked, saying the first name to come to mind.

“Hmm…” Rose thought, looking him over. “You sort of look like a David, but we’ll put that in the maybe pile. What about Matt?”

“Nah, don’t look much like that. Peter?”

“No, not that. Alec?”

“I feel like that name would make me ruder than I already am. Anthony?”

Rose snorted. “No, that’s my brother’s name! Though, if you were ginger with that name… Crowley?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Don’t think I could pull that off. Corin?”

Both paused and made faces. “No, no, terrible name, you’re right.” He shook his head. “Somehow that sounds ruder than Alec! Cassiopeia?”

“Doctor, I know I probably won’t call you these names except around people who don’t know you’re the Doctor, but there is no way in hell I’m callin’ you that.”

The Doctor looked at her funny. “What’s wrong with naming myself after a constellation?”

Rose just looked at him, raising an eyebrow, crossing her arms with an expression that basically shouted ‘are you seriously asking that question’.

“Right.” He sighed, scratching his head. “Jack?” He joked and she laughed. “Nah, good point. Oh! Wait, I’ve got one! Wilfred!”

This got Rose to raise an eyebrow. “Donna’s grandpa?”

“Yes! He’s a good man, really enjoyed his company, got to spend some time with him. Did you know he got a star named after him after he discovered it? Amazing, real proud of that man.” The Doctor smiled softly, toying with the pen in his hands. “I hope he’s doing okay.”

Rose knew there was a quiet, unspoken addition to that, but she didn’t bring it up. “Wilfred is a good name; do you want that?”

“I was thinking that’d be my middle name. I might go with John as the first, for old time’s sake, but Wilfred is the middle name. And… Noble, for the last name?”

The blonde gave this a bit of thought, tapping at her chin. “John Wilfred Noble… I like it.”

“Sounds good enough to tag on Tyler to it in the future?” The half-alien grinned and Rose walked over, giving him a little shove before a kiss on the cheek.

“John Wilfred Tyler-Noble? I think that’s an excellent name. Just don’t be writin’ that down on that paperwork! Don’t want Dad asking us a million questions!”

“Oh come on, it would be hilarious to show my ID card to your mom and watching her reaction!” He got a punch to the arm, making him wince. “Alright, alright, I’ll save that for later.”

Rose smirked and kissed his cheek again. “Right, so, for now you just leave the Tyler part off until we get that far. But this looks pretty good, now, onto figuring out your birth year.”

“Oh, that’s gonna be a challenge.”

END

Just something short and sweet. I’m in that group of Tentoo fans that loves the idea that he took on Wilfred’s name and Donna’s last name, especially cause I’ve been looking into the side content involving Ten and Donna and how much he seems to enjoy the Noble family (yes, that includes Sylvia, to a smaller extent, I mean, he even pretended she was his mother-in-law in an audio adventure). And yes, Wilfred does have a star named after him, its from one of the novels.

I might make this a little series of one-shots of Tentoo adapting to Pete’s World, spending time with the Tylers, and exploring this universe.

Thanks for reading!

#doctor who #tentoo #rose tyler #tentoo x rose #john's drabbles

21 notes · View notes

mvnvgedmischief · 4 years

Text

home is where the heart is; remus takes sirius to wales as a suprise, to meet his parents. hope imparts some motherly wisdom. it’s cute, and remus is welsh. i swear

2.2k words. sorry about any bad welsh, I do not speak the language.

Sirius propped his feet on the dash, heavy boots making a loud thump against the dashboard. He looked over at Remus, silver eyes lit up with joy as his hair whipped around in the airflow from the open window. His eyes scanned over the expression on Remus’s face, trying to read what was going on. He knew Remus wanted to surprise him, and he wasn’t against suprises. But that didn’t mean he liked not knowing. Not when he was could see Remus was excited, and he just wanted to share in that joy. “Moony–“ He whinged, his grey eyes blown wide as he notices the way the sun illuminates Remus’s hair and his face, like a halo. “Where’re you taking me?” He knows his voice comes out as a smooth whine, and he could only hope that Remus found it endearing.

“You’ll figure it out, Pads. Promise.”

“Ugh” He groans, throwing himself back on the passenger seat. “Fine Moony, don’t tell me. But then I’m choosing the next cassette!”

“No, you’re not. I’m driving, I pick the music!”

“Well then tell me, Moonshine!”

“Pads, I promise you, I’m not taking you anywhere you won’t want to be.” I hope lingers on the tip of his tongue, but remains unsaid. He thinks– hell– he hopes that Sirius won’t be upset that he hasn’t driven him to Paris, or somewhere equally exciting.

“Please Moonbeam! Moon of my life! Please just tell me where we’re going!”

“Iesu mawr! Cau'r ffyc i fyny” dear god, shut the fuck up. Remus says it with that sweet, Welsh lilt to his voice that he always has, and the reverence that he always has when he’s talking to his best mate.

He knew that Sirius was starting to go a bit nutty in the Potter house. It was lovely, having Euphemia and Fleamont around all the time, and it was great to spend all of his time with James. He knew Sirius would never complain. But there were parts of Sirius that were quieter, parts that he knew he hid from James. Things that came from the silencing charms he put on his bed every night, or the way he didn’t like to talk in the morning, because his throat felt too raw. It was so fantastic that the Potters had taken him in, but Remus and James both knew that some time away would do him some good. That, combined with the fact that James, Euphemia, and Fleamont were off to a cousin’s wedding this week, one that Sirius didn’t know, gave Remus the perfect opportunity to take his best mate up to meet his parents. His parents, who he hoped wouldn’t embarrass him with baby pictures and talking about the letters Remus wrote about the way Sirius’s eyes lit up in the moonlight, or the way his laugh could make Remus’s whole day.

“Remus, are you taking me to Wales?” Sirius asked, his voice like a quiet scale on a piano. Remus wondered if it was soft around the edges because he wanted to go or because he didn’t, but at this point, he didn’t have the option to turn back around. Not tonight, at least. The original plan had been for Sirius and Trixie, the Potter House Elf to spend the week at their estate, but Remus had immediately told James in his last letter that it was a dumb idea. There was no way when they came home, that Sirius would not regress into the shell of a person that he had been just a few short months ago. If he were left to his own devices, Sirius would lose his mind.

Remus tried to suppress the smile on his face, or the way a blush heated up his cheeks, but it didn’t work. Instead, Remus had a small smile on his face and a beet red neck, but Sirius could see the joy written all over him. Sirius’s shoulders; however, tensed incredibly swiftly. When Remus said they were going on an adventure for a few days, Sirius had mentally prepared himself for lying in bed, intertwined with Remus, all soft touches and softer smiles, the way they had had for the majority of sixth year. He steeled himself to the possibility of finally telling Remus he liked him, that he wanted those touches to be more than when his mind was convinced he was trapped in the walls of Grimmauld place, or when Remus forgot that the person came before the wolf. But all of those thoughts were wiped clean from his mind, when the beaten up old care pulled into the gravel path off the main road, and pulled up in front of a small cottage.

“Rem, this isn’t–“ Sirius started, his eyes wide and his smile large with admiration.

“I told you that you’d figure it out you bloody drewgi.” smelly dog.

“Nobody’s met your parents, Rem! Are you sure!”

“We’re already here, Pads, can’t exactly back out now can I.”

Remus pulled a key from his keyring, something that still amazed Sirius to no end. Why, when he had a wand, did he need a keyring. Nonetheless, Sirius was thankful for it. Thankful, because he got to watch Remus’s hands, his beautiful, confident fingers, make quick work of unlocking the door.

“Mam! Tad! Rydw i adref!” Mom! Dad! I’m home!

A disheveled looking man with the same fluffy tawny hair made his way down the stairs, and Sirius wondered if this was what coming home would feel like for him someday. If someday that smile that Moony wore would be the same smile that he wore when he walked into the Potter manor. But this was no Manor. Sirius scanned the room and noticed it immediately. It was the same small cottage on the outside as it was on the inside, no bells, whistles, or magic to make it something new. It was a cottage, that smelled much more strongly of that same something that Sirius could smell on Remus’s jumpers but never place.

“Ah! Young Master Black! Welcome! I’m Lyall Lupin, Remus’s dad.”

“Mae'n gwybod pwy ydych chi, Tad.” He knows who you are, Dad. Remus mumbled beside him, clearly exasperated. Sirius nodded, reaching out his hand to shake Lyall’s. Lyall’s hands, just like Remus’s, were confident, and Lyall wore that same tired expression that Moony always had. Sirius wondered if it ran in the family, or if something else was going on.

“Mae eich mam eisiau eich gweld chi yn ei hystafell. Bydd hi'n falch iawn o gwrdd â'ch Sirius.” Your mother wants to speak to you in her room. She’ll be delighted to meet your Sirius.

“Rydych chi'n codi cywilydd arna i.” You’re embarrassing me!

“Ewch ymlaen wedyn! Fe af ag ef i'ch ystafell a phan fyddwch wedi siarad, gallwch eu cyflwyno” Go on then! I'll take him to your room and when you're done talking, you can introduce them.

Silently, Sirius hoped he wouldn’t be left alone, but when Remus started to walk away, not looking back at Sirius to gesture for him to follow, he knew he had no choice.

Remus walks up to his mam’s room with a bit of pep in his step. Hope Lupin, his favorite person in the entire world. He was so thankful for the summer holidays, because it allowed him just a bit more time. A bit more time to sit beside her and talk about her romantic theories of the world, about how beautiful everything is. A bit more time, to talk to his mam about school, about books he’s read, about anything because he knew just as well as Lyall did, that the time was dwindling to a close. When he finally arrives at her room, just a week after he had been here last (James had demanded his attention, if he was coming all the way out to the east side of England, for at least a week) and is startled by the sight of her. He felt like she looked so much sicker, even though it had only been seven days.

“Remus, fy nghariad. Croeso adref.” Remus, my love. Welcome home. She smiles at him, and it’s almost enough to make him forget the breathing apparatus in her nose. Almost.

“Mam, beth ddigwyddodd? Sut wnaethoch chi - rydych chi wedi bod yn sâl.” Mam, what happened? How did you– you’ve been sick.

“Fy machegan” She tuts, shaking her head with the saddest, most knowing look he’s ever seen. “Mae popeth sydd gyda ni yn cael ei fenthyg, cariad. Mae'n mynd i fod yn iawn. Rwy'n addo.” Everything we have is borrowed, love. It’s going to be okay. I promise. (This is a Welsh Proverb). He doesn’t want to cry. Not when Sirius is in the next room over, ready to meet his mother for the first time. But he also wants to make sure she’s alright.

“Felly ydy e yma? Rydw i eisiau cwrdd â'r bachgen hwn rydych chi wedi dweud cymaint wrtha i amdano! ” So is he here? I want to meet this boy you’ve told me so much about!”

“Mam!” He whines, a smile breaking out on his face. The smile Hope returns to him is identical, and had Sirius been in the room, he’s sure that the boy would have commented on how alike they truly look.

“Rwy'n addo dim ond codi cywilydd arnoch chi yn Gymraeg, Remus. Nawr dywedwch wrthyf, a ydych wedi dweud wrtho eto?” I promise to only embarrass you in Welsh, Remus. Now tell me, have you told him yet?

“Dim mam, nid wyf wedi dweud wrth fy ffrind gorau fod gen i wasgfa arno.” No mam, I have not told my best mate that I have a crush on him.

“Why on Earth not, Remus! If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times. You never know until you try.”

“I know Mam. I promise I’ll tell him eventually.”

“Promise you’ll tell him while you two are here. I want to know how he reacts.”

Remus let’s out that same tired sigh he always has, and it’s one he’s also inherited from Hope Lupin. Remus calls Sirius towards the room, smiling at his mom as best as he can even though his eyes have welled with tears. He knows why she wants him to speak to Sirius about his feelings. He knows it’s because she wants to still be around when her son finds his first love. And despite how confident Remus is in his own feelings about Sirius, he can’t tell her whether or not they’ve been reciprocated because he doesn’t know. His mum just wants to make sure that if she can see her son’s first relationship, she does.

“Sirius, this is my mam. Mam, this is Sirius.” He introduces, and Sirius is struck by her. Sure, she’s propped up in a bed, nose occupied by a see-through bit of tubing and features gaunt. But she looks so like Remus, down to the stars in their eyes, that her illness is one of the last things he truly notices about her. He’s so struck, he does the only thing he can do, the thing he’s been trained all his life to do. He steps forward, and bows.

“Sirius!” Remus was startled by the reaction, and in response he provides a gentle elbow to the ribs. “My mam’s a muggle. You don’t need to bother with all that trite.”

“Mae'n well gen i, fy machgen. Gadewch iddo chwysu ychydig.” I rather like it, my boy. Let him sweat a bit.

“Mam–“

“Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Lupin. Remus has told us, the other boys and I that is, a lot about you.” Remus is shocked because Sirius sounds so nervous. Maybe his mother was right, maybe Sirius was sweating a bit. Either way, he could not be more thrilled with the way this was going.

The boys enjoyed their time in Wales, and on the final day, Remus resolved to do what he had promised his mom he would. He resolved to tell Sirius how he felt, if only so that he’d be able to tell his mom that he had. To talk to her, have her help him with love, the thing she believed in, in nothing else. What he hadn’t expected, was for Sirius to make it so easy.

“When we arrived, what’d your mom think of me, Moons?”

“My–My mam?” He starts, eyes still cast over the horizon, past the cliffs amongst which they were sitting.

“Yeah, Re, your mom. I heard my name while you were talking. Besides, I want to know if I have the Hope Lupin seal of approval.”

Remus stutters out a soft oh. It’s now or never, but that doesn’t mean the whole thing doesn’t set his teeth on edge. “She wanted me to tell you something.” He begins, taking a deep breath. If he didn’t force this admission out of himself right now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the chance, or the courage, to do it again.

“What’d she want you to tell me?”

“Sirius I– I really fancy you.” He knows that even though his eyes are screwed shut, they should be open, he should be making sure that Sirius doesn’t hate him for this.

“You – you really–“

“Yeah, but I know you don’t….” He pauses, biting down on his lower lip. “Merlin, I know you’re not a shirt lifter. Just– nothing has to change, she just really wanted me to tell you.”

“Remus” Sirius sighs, and it almost sounds like the Lupin family exasperated sigh. “Where in Godric’s name did you get the daft notion that I don’t fancy you.”

Before Remus knows it, the boys are kissing in the light Welsh rainfall, hair full of sea spray and adoration. when they pull apart, the only thing he can think about is how he can’t wait to tell his mom.

#wolfstar drabble #wolfstar fic #sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #my writing #my shit #moony & padfoot #r/s #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders era #moony and padfoot #hp

64 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 4 years

Text

Field Guide to the Rock Humans

I wrote this earlier today and Tumblr ate the post. I've noticed that ever since Tumblr last changed the dashboard, this will happen. I don't think it saves drafts like it should, and if you zoom in on the screen too much it closes the post editior window. So I'm doing what I used to do on Livejournal and writing this out on Notepad before I commit to posting. So Tumblr's regressed to 2005 standards.

Anyway, what I want to do here is go over all the Rock Humans in JoJolion. While reading Part 8, I kept getting frustrated that there seemed to be an endless supply of Rock Humans running around, and every time Josuke turns around, there's another one waiting for him.

But as it turns out, there really aren't that many of these guys. The JoJo Wiki lists 13 characters, and three of them are Rock Animals who may not even have Stands. Two of them are the A. Phex brothers, who are only a threat when they work together, so really, you're only dealing with nine Stand Battles, which seems like a pretty reasonable number when you put it that way. Even so, I want to write all this out, because it helped me make better sense of the plot.

What I'm going to do here is list each character, with their Stand's name in [Brackets], followed by the span of their first appearance to when they were last active. Let's get the Rock Animals out of the way first, since they're fairly minor characters.

A. Iwasuke, JJL #22-Present

Iwasuke is either a stray dog who wandered onto the Higashikata estate, or he was purposely sent there by Yotsuyu Yagiyama to get Tsurugi's attention. I just assumed Iwasuke was a normal dog who somehow got strange rock characteristics from all the weird stuff going on with the Wall Eyes and the Higashikata land and whatever else, but the JoJo Wiki calls him a Rock Animal, so okay. Whatever his ties to Yotsuyu, Tsurugi adopted the dog after Yotsuyu's death, and gave him the name Iwasuke. I don't think he's appeared since Chapter 77, but as far as I know he's still alive.

B. Doremifasolati Do, JJL #65-70

Unlike Iwasuke, Doremi is unmistakably a Rock Animal because he looks absolutely nothing like any real-world animal. He burrows underground, and his master, Urban Guerrilla, can ride inside him like a tank. They died together while fighting Josuke Higashikata, Rai Mamezuku, and Yasuho Hirose.

C. "Hair Clip Rock Animal", JJL #71

This creature lived and died in 2005, several years before JoJolion takes place. A 13-year-old Yasuho purchased a hair clip, not realizing it was actually a Rock Animal. For some reason it inflicted various misfortunes upon her, including a dandruff-like skin condition, and making her see a simulation of her father telling her that he would never visit her again. Yasuho nearly committed suicide because of the Rock Animal's machinations, but Dr. Holly Kira saved her. While in the hospital, her son Yoshikage Kira stepped on the hair clip, never realizing that it had been alive.

I never quite understood the point of this flashback, except to illustrate the depth of the connection between Yasuho and Josuke, and to show that the Rock Humans must be inherently evil, since even Rock Animals appear to delight in cruelty and suffering for some reason.

And now the Rock Humans.

1. Yotsuyu Yagiyama, [I Am A Rock], JJL #26-32

Yagiyama was the first Rock Human in the series. He claimed to have killed Yoshikage Kira, but in the flashback shown in Chapters 50-53, that's not actually how it went down. Like all Rock Humans, he had no name until he stole the identity of some unsuspecting human. Yotsuyu became an architect, building the Higashikata House, as well as renovating the Morioh baseball stadium. But he was also part of the Locacaca Organization, a group of Rock Humans who smuggle Locacaca fruit into Morioh to sell to humans and for research at the TG University Hospital. Yotsusu was with the smuggling wing of the group.

Pre-JoJolion, Yoshikage Kira and Josefumi Kujo stole a branch from one of their imports, and Yotsuyu and his boss Tamaki Damo ambushed them and interrogated them to get it back. Later, he discovered Josuke at the Higashikata house, and manipulated Tsurugi into helping him trap Josuke. His plan ultimately failed, and he died when Josuke submerged him in the sea to interrogate him. When his body collapsed into rubble, Josuke and Norisuke Higashikata realized that they were dealing with a group of inhuman enemies.

"I Am A Rock" has the power to cause specific objects of Yotusuyu's choosing to fly toward his target. He has to touch a target to activate the ability, and then the objects will be attracted to the victim and eventually push throug the victim's flesh to reach his very center.

2. Aisho Dainenjiyama, [Doobie Wah!], JJL #38-42

Aisho was apparently the sales and delivery guy for the Locacaca smuggling ring. Pre-Jojolion, Kira and Kujo stole a Locacaca Branch from him while he was transporting it through town.

Following Yotsuyu's death, Yasuho Hirose discovered his connection with Aisho, who worked as a security guard at the baseball stadium Yotsuyu renovated. She and Tsurugi tried to spy on him, only to run afoul of his Stand. During the battle, it was revealed that Aisho knew Jobin Higashikata, but he was killed before anyone could find out the extent of that relationship.

Doobie Wah! is an automatic pursuer Stand. When activated, it chases after the victim, producing miniature tornadoes from the victim's own breath. These tornadoes will attack the victim relentlessly, and the only real defense is to stop breathing or attack Aisho directly.

3. A. Phex the Elder [Schott Key No. 1] JJL #44-46 4. A. Phex the Younger [Schott Key No.2] JJL #44-46

These two guys were the assassins for the Locacaca Organization. Pre-Jojolion, they were tasked with pursuing Kira and Kujo after they escaped from Damo and Yotsuyu. Then they were sent to kill Karera Saknami, due to her connection with Kira, and followed her for trail for six months.

Their chase led them back to Morioh, where Josuke saved Karera from their attack. She then returned the favor, setting the brothers on fire while they were attacking Josuke.

Their Stands are somewhat limited in power. Schott Key No. 1 merely teleports objects from the left hand to the right. Schott Key No. 2 emits toxic gas at all times, so the user has to keep it inside a soccer ball most of the time, as even he is not immune to the gas. Working together, the brothers can combine their abilities to be more formidable.

5. Tamaki Damo [Vitamin C] JJL #47-55

Damo ran the "Damo Kan" Cleaning Service as a front for his smuggling ring. When his four subordinates all perished, he seduced Hato Higashikata so that she would bring him home to meet her family. Once inside, he used his Stand to incapacitate them all, hoping to interrogate them for answers. But Josuke appeared and managed to free Hato, enabling her to fight back against Damo with her own Stand. Before dying, he offered to help Josuke get Locacaca fruit for his mother, but Josuke killed him instead.

Vitamin C liquefies its victims, reducing them to malleable fluids that Damo can torment with ease. The ability is triggered once the target touches Damo's fingerprints, so his strategy is to enter a room without being suspected and then touching lots of things so that his victim will touch the same objects without realizing the danger they're in.

6. Dolomite, aka Masaji Dorokoma [Blue Hawaii] JJL #59-63

This guy was never part of the Locacaca gang, and had no interest in the Locacaca fruit, because he lost his limbs and most of his teeth in an accident, and figured the fruit's equivalent exchange powers would do him no good, since he was missing too many body parts already.

But somehow, Dolomite knew Jobin Higashikata, who sought his help in obtaining the "new" Locacaca fruit that would come from the stolen branch that was hidden somewhere in the Higashikata Estate by Yoshikage Kira and Josefumi Kujo. Jobin suggested that this new breed of fruit might even be able to heal Dolomite, so he agreed to make a go for it. Instead, he was defeated by Yasuho Hirose before he could kill Josuke and tell Jobin what he had learned from him.

Notably, Dolomite is the one Rock Human that the good guys haven't killed. Josuke decided that he's no longer a threat, and he doesn't really know anything.

Blue Hawaii can control the mind of a victim once they touch something that was connected to the user, like a tooth. The victim will attack and pursue Dolomite's target, and the mind control can be transferred to another victim on contact. Blue Hawaii seems to only be able to control one person at a time, but the power is very difficult to escape, so the only real defense is to attack the user.

7. Urban Guerrilla aka Dr. Ryo Shimosato, [Brain Storm] JJL #65-70

The other side of the Locacaca Organization was a group of four Rock Human doctors based out of the TG University Hospital. Dr. Ryo Shimosato, operating under the guise of "Urban Guerrilla" was sent to intercept Josuke and the "Plant Appraiser", Rai Mamezuku, before they can locate the New Locacaca branch on the Higashikata estate. He was defeated, along with his Rock Animal, Doremifasolati Do. Unlike Damo's group of smugglers, who were only out to recover their stolen property and protect their secrets, the four doctors seem to view the New Locacaca branch to be a breakthrough discovery, and they want to take possession of it for their own research.

Brain Storm is perhaps one of the bullshittiest Stands of them all, in that it's not only incredibly overpowered, but also fails to actually do what's it's supposed to do whenever it's inconvenient for the plot. Supposedly, it dissolves flesh, and when it comes into contact with flesh, it drives "feelers" even deeper into the victim, which supposedly causes even more damage from the inside, and it "multiplies exponentially". So you'd think this would destroy a person within minutes, but instead the good guys just seem to shrug this effect off, because no one has any healing abilities in this part, and no one wants to see the main characters with gaping holes all over their faces.

8. Poor Tom [Ozone Baby] JJL #70-76

This is the second of the four doctors, although we never got a real name for the guy. Does everyone in the obstetrics ward call him "Doctor Poor Tom?" Following Urban Guerilla's defeat, Poor Tom contacted Jobin Higashikata and offers to stop Josuke from finding the branch. You'd think that by now Jobin would know better than to trust the Rock Humans, but whatever.

Jobin buried Poor Tom's Stand, Ozone Baby in the Higashikata Orchard, believing it would prevent Josuke and Rai from entering the property. Instead, it nearly killed everyone in a 100 meter radius, including Jobin himself. Tom's real plan was to search the orchard for the branch once everyone was safely dead. So Jobin set fire to the orchard and called Tom to tell him it was on fire, just so Tom would have to come to the orchard in person and cancel his Stand's attack in order to keep the branch from burning up. Soon after, he was defeated by Josuke, but he managed to secure a branch and get it to a waiting ambulance, only to die from a gunshot fired by... someone. But Tom died in vain, as his allies received the branch, only to find that it was not the right one, and Jobin had managed to hide it in his house.

Ozone Baby alters the atmospheric pressure of its surroundings. The pressure increases greatly outdoors, but even in an enclosed space, it slowly increases, so that there is no real escape from the effect.

9. Dr. Wu Tomoki [Dr. Wu], JJL #76-82

The third doctor of the Rock Human cabal at TGU Hospital. I'm not quite clear on how this got started, but somehow Jobin's wife Mitsuba paid Dr. Wu 200 million yen for medical treatment, and he just kept giving her doses of Locacaca, which would heal one body part only to inflict a new ailment on a different part. So Mitsuba kept coming back for more treatments. I'm not sure if Wu was doing this to use Mitsuba as a test subject for his experiements, or if he was just bilking her for money, or if he was using her to get information about the Higashikata household. Maybe all three. When Yasuho tracked Poor Tom to the hospital, she discovered Dr. Wu's scheme, and she and Mitsuba fought against him. Josuke finally killed Wu by drowning him in medical cement.

Wu's eponymous Stand allows him to transform his body in a cloud of fine particles, which drifts along air currents. Upon contact with a victim's body, he can penetrate the body and trigger allergic reactions, or fuse with the victim's tissues to control them like a puppet.

10. Dr. Afeku Satoru [Unidentified Stand], JJL #76-Present.

Presumably the final boss of JoJolion, and the sole survivor of the Locacaca Organization, unless Dolomite wants to join.

Satoru acts as the Head Doctor of the TGU Hospital, a largely ceremonial role. His Stand apparenly causes objects to collide with anyone who attempts to follow him or get a look at his face. The Stand's exact abilities are not yet clear, although it seems reasonable to assume that something has to trigger this ability, since it only seems to work on Satoru's enemies. He gave a lecture announcing a new Locacaca-based medicine, and his audience was able to see him just fine.

Satoru appears to show up in multiple places at once, leading Rai Mamezuku to speculate that the image of the elderly doctor is actually the Stand, meaning that the user must be someone else, somewhere else. Whatever the case, he's been roaming the Higashikata estate, searching for the Locacaca Branch, and in Chapter 96 he entered the house, since that's where Jobin's been keeping it.

One wonders why he doesn't just strike some kind of deal with Jobin and Josuke. They only want the fruit to lift the Higashikata Curse and save Holly Kira, and he only seems to want to push the boundaries of modern medicine. You'd think everyone could get what they want, but Satoru seems to think he's invincible, so maybe he sees no need to bargain.

More to the point, Holly Kira probably got sick in the first place because she was involved in his Locacaca research to some extent. She helped set up the lab they used for the research, and when she started asking too many questions, she would up bedridden. So maybe Satoru doesn't want Holly to recover for fear of the secrets she might reveal, but this begs the question of why he doesn't just have her killed.

As for Josuke, he seems to have shifted tactics. Instead of pursuing Satoru at all costs, he's taking Holly's advice and concentrating on a different goal. If it puts him in Satoru's path, so be it. On the other hand, Jobin seems to be determined to fight him head-on, which is probably the worst possible move...

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojolion #spoilers #jojolion spoilers #part 8 spoilers #rock humans

14 notes · View notes