#he killed his own children and cooked them into a stew and fed it to the gods | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bumbleklee · 3 years

Text

trying to induce labor

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | pregnancy series

pairings: diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: pregnancy (so close to baby)

diluc

As the days drew closer, you were getting more and more anxious to get the twins out of you. Not only was your belly huge with both babies, it was causing you a lot of pain. Fed up from another sleepless night of twisting and turning, you put your sneakers on first thing in the morning and waddled to the front door.

“Where are you off to?” Diluc asked, raising his eyes from the paperwork he was completing at the dining room table.

“Your children have overstayed their welcome.” You grabbed a jacket and slipped it over your arms, letting the front hang open since you were too big to zipper it. “I’m going to do laps around The Winery.”

Diluc was by your side now, “Is that safe?”

“Walking in the most effective way to induce labor,” You told him, “But if you’re worried, you can join me.”

Your husband slipped his own sneakers on instantly.

Diluc held your hand as you walked the property line of The Winery. Your feet began aching right away but you pushed through, needing to at least try this method of inducing labor. The thought about meeting your babies finally gave you a rush of adrenaline and you walked for thirty minutes before your body began showing restraint.

When you stopped to lean against a nearby tree, Diluc was in front of you with a concerned look on your face. You rubbed your belly and tried to catch your breath, feeling sweat drip down your forehead.

“Is it happening?” He asked, a hint of excitement rubbing off on his tone.

You shook your head, “I just need a break.”

Diluc held back the frown trying to creep on his face. Like you, he just wanted to meet the twins as well. “Can you make it back to the house?”

You glanced up to look at the house. It wasn’t too far, just past the vineyard, but your throbbing back was a good enough reminder for you to take it easy. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall,” You admitted sheepishly, “Maybe we should just stay here for a while.”

“Nonsense,” Diluc said. Before you could recognize what was going on, Diluc had lifted you off your feet and was carrying you bridal style. Upon seeing your bewildered expression at lifting both you and your babies, Diluc continued. “I’ve been working out for a reason.”

kaeya

Kaeya couldn’t cook. He tried, he really did, but time after time dinner ended with take out. So when you suggested trying spicy foods to help induce labor, Kaeya knew this would be a job for someone else.

You watched intently as Noelle leaned over the stove in your kitchen. The smell of spices and flavorful armonas filled your house and your stomach rumbled everytime a waft came near you. Her eyes glanced between the open cookbook beside her and the boiling pot of something on a burner.

“Sit, sit,” Noelle instructed poliety, “Dinner’s almost ready.” You made Kaeya set the table as you and your husband sat down. Noelle finished up in the kitchen before she brought over a serving bowl and placed it in the middle of the table.

“What is it?” Kaeya asked. He peered over the bowl and, like yours, his stomach growled in anticipation. “It smells great.”

“It's a spicy stew but I added some extra Jieyun Chili peppers. Barbara gave me the recipe.” Noelle smiled sweetly and poured some of the stew in Kaeya and yours’ bowls before serving herself. When Kaeya opted out in cooking your spicy dish, he immediately ran to Noelle who had no problem serving you dinner.

Kaeya thanked Noelle before digging into his meal. You hesitantly watched Kaeya, knowing how he couldn’t handle spicy food, and almost burst out laughing when he almost spit the stew back into his bowl.

His tongue hung out of his mouth, “I think that could kill someone.”

Noelle giggled at his comment and tasted the stew herself, beaming at the taste. Unlike your husband, she didn’t seem to have an issue with the heat level. Kaeya shook his head at you in disbelief.

“Now I’m nervous,” You said, half jokingly and half serious. You poked your fork into a piece of beef and placed the food in your mouth. Instantly, your mouth lit up in a fire. You held back a cough as you chewed the food. Kaeya stared at you in disbelief, watching your eyes water from the spices.

Kaeya rubbed your bicep as you grabbed another forkful of the stew. “If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will,” You said, “There’s no way I’m going to have taste buds after this.”

childe

When Childe comes home one day, he doesn’t see you resting on the couch like usual. He follows the light down the hall and finds you in the middle of the floor in the bedroom, your body stretched in a weird position.

One of your arms was standing high in the air and the other was low to the ground, causing the top half of your body to be vertical. You were taking mediated breaths and counting slowly before you switched sides.

“What are you doing?”

Without opening your eyes, you responded to your boyfriend. “I’m doing yoga,” You said flatly, “It’s time for Nikolai to come out.”

“Oh,” Childe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Is he?”

“He won’t move an inch.”

Childe smiles to himself. Any day now your son would be arriving and he could feel the excitement radiating off your body. He was three days overdue, preferring to stay in the comfort of your womb, but you were ready for him.

“I’m surprised,” Childe continues, “I thought you wanted to wait for him to come on his own.”

You stood up straight and opened your eyes slowly, placing your hands on your back to try and crane out any kinks with your knuckles. “I was,” You started, “But I changed my mind. I want to hold him so badly.”

Your boyfriend smiles again, this time at you. He agrees with you but decides not to say anything, knowing inducing labor was your decision and your decision only. Childe stands up and comes near you, “Let me help.”

With the help of your boyfriend, you get on the ground and prop a knee up. Childe holds your hips as you shakily lift the other leg into the air and extend it straight. He reminds you he has a solid hold on you so you lift your opposite arm, replicating the action.

“This is hard,” You complain, wanting to put your leg down already.

“You got this,” Childe grins, “Do it for Nikolai.”

zhongli

“Archons, it’s cold out.”

“Perfect.”

Zhongli’s eyes watched you intently as you stood at the edge of the dock at Liyue Harbor. You were bundled in several layers and your hands rested on your large baby bump. There were even some premature snowflakes floating down from the sky and resting on your nose.

You never thought you would be someone to induce labor but when a week had passed past your due date, you knew you should at least try. You tried the common methods first (eating spicy foods, walking, doing yoga, etc.) and when none of them worked, you and Zhongli decided to look up some old wivestales in books. The easiest one to try was extreme cold, since it was already January.

“Can you feel anything?” Your husband asked, readjusting the hat over your ears for the tenth time that hour.

You shook your head, “Not really.”

Zhongli caught a snowflake on his finger and rubbed it off on your cheek. You giggled and leaned into his warm side. When you spoke, your breath turned into visible puffs of air. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the Cryo Archon.”

“Oh, hush,” You playfully said, rolling your eyes. “Do you want to meet Jia or not?”

He reached forward to take one of your hands in his. He squeezed your fingers, instantly warming them up, “Of course I do. I just don’t want us to freeze before we can.”

a/n: sorry zhongli got the short end of the stick again </3

#genshin pregnancy #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin writing #genshin hcs #genshin x female reader #genshin x you #genshin self insert #diluc #kaeya #childe #zhongli #tartaglia x reader

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therealcalicali · 4 years

Text

Apple Thief

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and even more Angst

Type: One Shot

Wordcount: 7,003

“Y/N! You need not go.” Your ailing father called out from where he was sat by the fireplace. Though you lived in a cramped quarter, the main room was always the warmest. And due to his injury, keeping his temperature up was best. “From the looks of things, a storm is brewing. Did you hear me, Buttons?”

With a smirk you threw his cowhide overcoat atop your woolen pullover. It wasn’t as nice as the fur-lined cloaks most girls wore. But it kept you warm despite being unfashionable. After grabbing your gloves, you bounded into the main room. Peering out the window, you realized the skies were indeed overcast.

However, you couldn’t stay home.

Rain or otherwise, you had to earn some coin. Especially since the sum your Uncle left was depleted. He had given all he could before leaving for a nearby town to sell his wares. And since you had no inclination of when he would return, you had to be resourceful.

“Just look at you, Buttons….” Your father exclaimed as he did his best not to chuckle. “You look like someone cast a shrinking spell upon you.”

“The coat may be ill-fitting, but it’s warm. So, if you keep taunting me, I might never give it back.”

“Please, stay.” He said as his smile began to fade. He then pointed his walking stick in your direction. “As my only child, I have no desire to see you fall ill.”

“Papa, I cannot sit around hoping Uncle is on his way back. He is far off, and your medicines are finished. And what’s more, we are in need of foodstuffs.”

“We are not.” Your father countered. “What of the red yams and potatoes? We can get by cooking them with cabbage and carrots.”

“First off, we have two red yams and no potatoes. And as for cabbage and carrots, I used the last of them in last night’s stew. So, like it or not, I must venture out.”

“It’s times like these I wish we still had our chickens. The eggs would bring in good coin.”

“Don’t fret, Papa. I’ve been saving what Uncle gives me for my upkeep. I intend to buy at least four of them. Soon, we could even own a nice milking cow again.”

Your father’s gaze went to fireplace.

He was a proud man, and it truly hurt your soul to see him dejected. But it made sense for a former Kings’ Guard to feel inadequate. At one time, your father provided a very posh lifestyle for the family. But once he was maimed in battle, he was forcibly discharged with a paltry severance. Once that was spent, your father had no choice but to start using what had been saved.

As expected, hardship followed. So much in fact, your mother decided to abscond with the little coin that was left. That was nearly three years prior. But for you, the betrayal felt like it had occurred only yesterday.

“Papa, please do not guilt me going outdoors.” You said, walking to him and taking a knee. “If I promise to come home should the weather should take a turn, would that ease your mind?”

Reluctantly, your father nodded.

“And take my dagger.” He said, pointing to the table nearest the front door. The weapon was a magnificent piece of military craftsmanship. Something only most decorated of fighters were ever bestowed. Still, your father wanted you to have it. “From now on, it is yours.”

“But Papa, that is a relic of your service. You earned it with much blood and sweat. I cannot possibly think of wielding it. Besides, it’s far too valuable to be taken out of the house.”

“Y/N, the only thing of value that I have, is you.”

You couldn’t help smiling. After sheathing the dagger, you informed your father that you would soon return. As you exited the cottage and approached the stables, you were suddenly filled with great hope.

You made your way to the town square on the back of your Uncle’s trusty steed, Moss.

Being a thoughtful man, Gadin left town in a hired wagon so you would have transport. So, as you tied the horse to a wooden post, you gave him a soothing pat.

“Have no fear, boy. We shall not stay for long.” You said before reaching into your leather satchel. After grabbing a handful of apple slices and oats, you fed Moss. “Well, things are really bustling today. No doubt I will make some coin.”

And you had good reason for being confident. Aside from the handmade gloves you made, you intended to sell some jewelry. The silver necklace and earrings had been intended for your mother on her Naming Day. But since she abandoned the family prior to him surprising her, your father passed them to you.

When Moss suddenly whinnied and stomped his hooves, you grabbed hold of his bit.

With that, you turned on your heels and began walking toward the marketplace.

Trade was truly flourishing because you had never seen so many foreigners in Stillwell before. But it was a good sign. It meant that soon, there would be expansions and all the other benefits that came with being a thriving village.

“Move your corpse, jackass!” A gruff voice bellowed.

When you turned to see who had spoken so rudely, a grey-haired elderly man pushed past. He was in such a huff, he nearly knocked you over. It was enough to make one angry had it not been so amusing.

Because though he appeared exceptionally frail; the man hauled his cartful of wares with the strength of twenty men.

“Magic.” You mused. “Everyone that wields it or buys it, is a nuisance.”

Suddenly, something else caught your attention. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a foreboding man cloaked in black. Naturally, this piqued your curiosity. From what you could assess; the armor signified his status as a formidable warrior. Likely a mercenary or something along those lines.

You knew this because the symbol that hung from the stranger’s neck didn’t appear to belong to any King.

When you noticed the tufts of white hair peaking from his hood, you promptly realized he was no mere mortal. Mostly because such a hue was not be found amongst your kind. As he walked, the stranger behaved as if he didn’t wish to be amongst people. But despite this, he had a traveling companion. A pleasant looking fellow who seemed to be relaying information in a lively fashion.

“Those two cannot be from any of the nearby townships.” You mused. “Perhaps they hail from some of the wealthier domains.”

Realizing that you were getting distracted, you returned your thoughts to selling your wares.

As luck would have it, your devotion to Ryrdohr, the God of Wonders, paid off.

Not only did you manage to unload your mother’s earring and necklace, but the silver merchant gave a fair price. Mainly, at the behest of his partner. As you were haggling, the man had taken one look before exclaiming that you reminded him of his late niece. For that reason, he forced his miserly friend to cough up more coin.

What you received, eighty Denars, was equal to a month and a half worth of wages. Thus, you were feeling quite blessed as you walked down the pathway toward The Bargainers Lot. It was where people that didn’t own traditional stands or storefronts conducted business.

As you passed a barrel-lined walkway, you heard a faint whistle. There, stood only yards away, a shabbily dressed boy, no older than twelve beckoned.

“Lass, might you have any food to spare?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder before looking at you again.

“Do not take me for a heartless person, little boy. But why ask such a thing whilst standing in an alleyway?”

“Apologies…….” He said as he rubbed his hands together. “But I must take care. I do not want the Sentries to see me begging. They are quite rough with street children these days.

Your father was right. It did appear that a storm would soon come. For that reason, you wished to give the child something. Enough to buy some food and even bestowing a pair of the gloves you intended to sell.

However, you had no desire to enter the alleyway to do so. After all, nothing good ever came of venturing into secluded places.

“If you want food..…..” You said, reaching to your coat pocket and producing eight Fenning. It was coin to buy two meat pies and some peach ale. But the boy needed it far more than you. “I am willing to be of help. But you must come here and------”

The first shove cut you off midsentence. But the second swiftly knocked you to the ground.

Before you grasped what was occurring, you were set upon by three other children. As you struggled to unsheathe your dagger, one kicked you in the shoulder as another seized your satchel. Infuriated, you quickly realized that you had to fight back or risk losing everything.

“I am being set upon by bandits!” You screamed. “Help!”

You had expected your words to bring someone to your aid. But after a few seconds, you realized it was for naught. In Stillwell, as in most townships, people preferred to keep to their own affairs. That meant unless a Sentry happened upon the attack, you were on your own.

When you rolled onto your back, you managed to break the buttons on your coat. With shaking hand, you finally unsheathed your father’s dagger. Taking note of this, the three children stared, wide-eyed.

“Now, you little monsters! Return my belongings before I cut your throats.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” A raspy voice countered.

Peering into the alleyway, you spotted the owner. A man with a crescent moon upon his left cheek was now stood next to the boy that had beckoned you. Only a foot away, a fiery-haired woman aimed an arrow in your direction.

“Let’s kill her and be done with it.” She suggested.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem eager to comply. After pondering a moment, he motioned for one of the children to take your dagger. Alarmed at losing your father’s prized weapon, you pointed it menacingly.

“If you prefer, we can kill you and take it, all the same.” The man threatened.

From his tone, it was apparent that he was not simply mincing words.

He spoke very much like an experienced butcher. Still, you could not compel yourself to hand the dagger over. As the three children stared wearily, awaiting their next directives, everything suddenly went black.

“Aye, she finally returns to the living.” An amused voice announced.

As your vision adjusted to the light of day again, you winced. For whatever reason, a dull pain within your head became more prominent. Indeed, even looking at your surroundings proved difficult. Still, you managed to lift yourself off the bench and sit upright.

Since the pressure seemed to be concentrated at the base of your neck, you attempted to feel it. However, a hand swiftly caught you by the wrist.

“Do not go touching the wound, jackass.” The old man commanded. “You’ll only smear the Black Mares ointment that’s been applied.”

“Wha…………………where did those children go?”

“What children?”

It was then you realized whom you were speaking to. The old man tending you was the very same one that had nearly bowled you over. For whatever reason, he was the only person that came to your rescue.

“Sir, did you happen to see which direction those bandits went in?”

“I do not know what you speak of. But here is your eight Fenning.” He replied, shoving the coin in your palm. “It was scattered about your person when I found you.”

“But what of my satchel? Those people took everything!” You exclaimed as all that had occurred came to memory. “I must find a Sentry.”

The old man cackled as if you had said the silliest thing in the world. After stating that the Sentries did their job well, he added that they only did so for the affluent. However, someone of your caliber would have to pass coin to their hands.

“And from the looks of it Lass, you hardly have enough to sway them.”

After securing the kerchief to your head, he practically jumped his feet. You could only stare in astonishment as he then took hold of his loaded cart.

“But sir…………I have not even properly thanked you.” You said, scooting forward on the bench. “At least take this, for your trouble.”

The man eyed the four Fenning in your hand before sneering. With a gruff tone, he advised that you keep it. Adding that he did not assist you because he lacked the means to care for himself. Apologetic for offending him, you stated that you had not intended imply such a thing. Nevertheless, he had already begun walking away.

He moved so swiftly, you could only shout words of gratitude as he disappeared into the crowd.

As you entered the small shop marked ‘The Long Caravan’, you pulled your coat closer to your body.

The light rain had already begun. Thus, you knew you only had a short time before the full gale set in. Though you had been robbed, you simply couldn’t go home empty handed. Especially without your father’s necessary medicines. So, if nothing else, you meant to buy the herbs.

“I accept no beggars in my establishment.” The snobby shopkeeper announced upon seeing you. “The soup house is down the road by the Great Sawmill.”

Incensed at the insinuation, you glared at her.

She then snapped her fingers at her young assistants, ordering them to set down two massive bags. One marked ‘corn’ and the other, ‘oats’. And that’s when you saw him by the Alchemy portion of the shop. The massive stranger clad in black. Even now, he appeared disinterested in his surroundings.

This was quite peculiar since he was apparently making purchases. But as for his companion, he was gingerly conversing with the shopkeeper’s husband.

“I said, no beggars!” She said once more.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not one!” You fumed, tired of her relentless assumptions. “I’ll have you know I’m here to purchase medicines. Or do you no longer take coin?”

Distracted by your words, the more jovial of the strangers stopped chatting.

He then leaned against a banister and folded his arms over his chest. Pardoning herself from the cloaked stranger, the woman sized you up before asking what you required.

“Four packets of Pearl Moss, two packets of Lakebarberry Leaves and four packets of Sour Quassia”

Despite wearing a spiteful expression, the shopkeeper went behind the counter. She then began measuring things out as you glanced around the shop. It was then you noticed the sizeable fruit display. From dragon pears to apples, there was good variety available.

“I’m so famished. I hope there is something left over.” You thought, pulling the eight Fenning from your pocket.

When you realized you were being watch, your head jerked in the direction of the white-haired man. At first, he appeared to be looking directly at you. But as you studied his expression, it became clear that he was looking past you.

Taking notice of his fascination, the shopkeeper’s husband went to him. He then began explaining that they had purchased the mounted head on the wall from a passing tradesman. As always, the stranger remained quiet. But suddenly, he actually glanced at you for the first time.

“Demon eyes.” You thought. “He is no mortal. Of that, there is no doubt.”

“That will be twenty Fenning.” The shopkeeper announced. “And do not dawdle, girl. I have other customers.”

You sighed. Apparently, the cost of herbs had gone up significantly since the last time. Placing all you had upon the counter, you eyed the woman.

“I……………I only have eight. However, look at these gloves I’m wearing. I made them myself. Pure cowhide with rabbit fur lining. Surely, they are worth the remainder.”

“Does this look like the trade-in post?” She snapped. “Either you have the coin, or you don’t.”

With tense jaw, you asked that she remove two satchels of Pearl Moss since it was the most expensive. But unexpectedly, the nicer of the two strangers walked over. After asking the woman to wait a moment, he looked at your hands.

“I know a lady that would really fancy those.” He said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I’m Jaskier, by the way. Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

Though your day had been nothing but terrible, you couldn’t help giving a smile in return.

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking his hand.

You then removed the smartly made gloves and set them down. When you asked if he was truly serious, Jaskier nodded firmly. After placing twenty Fenning on the counter, he took possession of his wares.

“I now have my gloves, and you, have your coin,”

Utterly beside yourself, you couldn’t help thanking him several times. Truly, he was an answer to your silent prayers. Such a show of kindness not only lifted your spirits but gave you a more optimistic outlook. While the moody shopkeeper finished tying the bundle of herbs with twine, Jaskier informed you he was a Bard.

A renowned and much sought after one, at that.

“You?” You exclaimed in astonishment.

“What’s the matter? Do I not look the part?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that you appear……..………you know….”

“Appear what?”

“To be quite honest. From your style of dress, I swore you were a Lord or something of the sort.”

From nearby, his companion made an odd grunt.

“Pay him no mind.” Jaskier said, looking in his direction. “He isn’t known for his manners.”

“If you take your time, I will leave you.” The cloaked man replied, ignoring the insult.

Though his tone of voice was cold, there was something within it that held some humanity. Perhaps, the Bard was his charge.

“Is that man your Hired Sword?” You asked.

The question sent Jaskier into a fit of laughter. However, his companion was not amused. In fact, he appeared meaner than he had been already. Leaving your side, Jaskier went to the shopkeeper’s husband and pointed to the waterskins.

It was then the woman finally handed you the satchel of herbs.

As you walked to the middle of the shop, you realized it was now raining quite hard. Not wanting to get your purchase wet, you opened your coat and pushed the satchels into the inner breast pocket. After closing the flap, you were buttoning your coat when the apples caught your eye.

Though you had eight Fenning left, thanks to Jaskier, you had not desire to spend it. So, as the storeowners busied themselves with their wealthier patrons, you began slipping a few into your coat. But as you finished taking the sixth and last one, the woman swiftly rushed over.

“Thief!” She shrieked, grabbing hold of your coat immediately. “I knew you were trouble from the moment you set foot in here!”

Though you were caught, you wished to turn the items over yourself. However, the shopkeeper refused to let go.

“I’m no thief!” You protested. “At least…………………….not really.”

“Not a thief, she says! Well, we shall see about that.” The woman mocked, holding your coat more firmly.

She then began shaking the fabric until the apples started coming lose. One by one, they soon dropped to the ground at your feet.

“Hmm. The girl is either an apple tree, or a thief.” Geralt remarked.

He then picked up the bags of corn and oats and hoisted them over his shoulder. As he walked to the exit of the shop, Jaskier stared at you and the shopkeeper. From his expression, you could see he felt your humiliation.

Thus, you averted your gaze.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled as he departed into the busy street. Though it was now raining, he made no attempt to seek cover. “Geralt! We cannot leave that poor girl to that woman. She will likely report her to the Sentries.”

“Why do you care?”

“Well, the laws against theft in Stillwell are harsher than in most townships. And she appears quite sweet……….……………. but desperate.”

Geralt scoffed as he kept to his path.

Nevertheless, Jaskier refused to give in. As he tried to keep pace, he confessed that he felt compelled to help. And if he had to convince the storekeeper and her husband alone, he would return to the shop.

“Then, go.” Geralt replied. “But remember, I will not wait long.”

“I swear, Madame, it was not my intention to take from you.” You said apologetically. “I had a great deal of coin a short time ago. However, I was robbed of it, and the rest of possessions. It’s the only reason I didn’t wish to spend the little I have left. That’s the truth of the matter.”

“Do not give me your sad tales.” The shopkeeper snapped. “When the Sentinels come, you may tell it to them, if you like.”

Just as you were about to drop to your knees and beg her mercy, Jaskier returned. With damp hair, he walked over and looked the woman straight in the eye.

“Allow me to pay for the value of the apples, plus a little extra for compensation.” He said. “Surely, that ought to be enough to allow the girl to leave peaceably.”

It sounded like a reasonable solution. But to his astonishment, the woman refused. After stating she was tired of your “type”, she added that you had to be an example.

“I cannot have every thieving liar thinking my shop is a free market. She must be turned over to the Sentinels.”

“Madame, have mercy.” You implored. “I cannot be away from my father for days on end. He is a cripple. If he is left alone, he could fall ill or even worse.”

Jaskier’s expression went soft. The revelation only made him more determined to be of help. But no matter how much he argued your case, his words fell on deaf ears.

“Natasja.” The shopkeepers husband said as he approached. “The girl seems genuine. Besides, she didn’t take anything of true worth. Only food. It’s obvious that she meant no real harm.”

Despite his attempt to defuse the situation, his wife proved hardheaded. With a hand still grasping your coat, she informed both he and Jaskier that she had already sent one of the shop assistants to fetch a Sentinel.

And thus, the four of you waited.

Whilst the time passed, the shopkeeper’s husband stated he would not give a statement. In fact, he wanted no parts of anything should the lawmen ask anything of him. Still, his wife didn’t seem moved.

“Bastien, if that is what you wish, so be it. But I will make sure this girl is made an example of. I will not become a target for every poverty-stricken bastard.”

“How dare you! I’m no bastard!” You seethed. “My father is an honorable man. He was a King’s Guard in Narin.”

“Ah, King Jethofius.” Jaskier mused with an impressed expression. “It’s said that he only commissions the most-skilled.”

“Most-skilled.” The shopkeeper repeated with a chuckle. “You keep listening to her tales.”

Angered by her flippant attitude, you countered that you spoke the truth. Not just about your father, but about being robbed earlier in the day. But none of that mattered. Because it wasn’t long before two well-armored Sentinels entered the shop.

“That is her.” The young worker said, pointing you out.

With annoyed expressions, the two men walked over. After politely acknowledging everyone, they looked you over.

“Your boy tells us that you caught the thief in the act.” The taller of the Sentinels said. “What did she take.”

“Apples.” Jaskier interacted. “Simple, ordinary apples. Hardly anything to take you from your patrol.”

The shopkeeper cut him a mean glare, however, she added that he was correct. You had stolen apples.

“But I would hardly say it is trivial. A thief, is a thief at the end of the day.”

“Do you wish to have her locked away until you can petition the Justice?”

When the shopkeeper nodded, her husband grumbled. He truly disliked how his wife had forgotten their struggles. There had been times even they came close to stealing. And though they never did so, he understood your plight.

“Let me state this now. I will not participate.” He announced.

Somewhat taken aback, the Sentinels looked between the husband and wife. One then grabbed you by the arm.

“Alright, it’s time to go.”

“Please! There must be something I can do to make things right.” You protested as you looked at the shopkeeper. “I am needed at home!”

“You should have thought about that before you went about nicking things.” The man countered. “Now either you move your legs, or I’ll resort to brute force.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Geralt said in a calm tone.

When you all looked towards the entrance, he was stood there with an annoyed expression. In an unhurried pace, he made his way over. He then scowled at poor Jaskier, who could do nothing but shrug in response.

“Stranger, this is none of your affair.” One of the Sentinels cautioned. “It’s best you keep moving before you are charged with interfering with the law.”

“The girl is my servant.” Geralt said, ignoring everything he had said. He then tossed the shopkeeper’s husband a small black pouch. “That’s nine Denars. Twenty times the value of what she took.”

Angered by the meddling, the shopkeeper declared she wanted justice, not coin. She then informed the Sentinels that Geralt did not speak truthfully. You had come to the shop alone, thus, you were not a servant of either man. But as she continued raving, her husband suddenly placed a hand upon her shoulder.

“Do not take offense, love…” He began. ‘But for once, shut your mouth.”

Ever the jovial one, Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter.

This caused one of the Sentinels to chuckle as well. However, things quickly subsided when Geralt shot both men a severe look. Approaching the lawmen, the shopkeeper’s husband first apologized for wasting their time. He then assured them that the coin was more than enough to resolve the matter.

“It appears there is nothing for you to do here. But gratitudes, all the same.” He added.

Obviously, the shopkeeper was livid. But as she followed the Sentinels, they ignored her pleas to return.

“So, we may take our leave?” Geralt asked of the husband.

“Aye.” He replied. “The little Lass is free to go.”

“I cannot stay.” You protested as you entered the Blue Raven Tavern with Jaskier and Geralt. “I must begin my journey home!”

As expected, it the place was quite busy due to the storm. As you were guided to a table, the patrons appeared to be mostly traveling merchants, migrants and Mercenaries. All of them in search of a temporary place of shelter until the weather improved.

“Sit.” Geralt gruffly commanded.

Naturally, his tone didn’t sit well with you.

“My Lord, I am no dog!” You protested despite doing as asked. “I’m quite grateful for your show of kindness. And as promised, I intend to repay the coin you parted with. But I must ask that you speak to me like I am a person.”

After staring for a moment, Geralt simply looked away. Frustrated by his odd behavior, you gave Jaskier your attention. Unfortunately, he was too busy staring at the ample breasts of the Tavern maid.

“Look here! Do you intend to ogle me all night or is there something you are in need of?”

“Oh, I am in need of many things.” Jaskier replied cheekily. “But let us start off with a pitcher of Black Mead. And perhaps a platter of rose-honey rolls with fresh churned butter on the side.”

The woman gave a flirtatious smirk before turning to leave. As she walked, Jaskier stared at her equally ample backside.

“You have coin for that?” Geralt asked.

“No, but you do.”

When he took note of your smile, Jaskier stated he had spent most of his coin repairing his lute. He then lifted it for you to see. From the way he spoke of it, you could tell the instrument held great sentimental value.

“It’s simply exquisite.” You remarked. “It makes my Uncle’s own look plain by comparison.”

“Do you play?” Jaskier asked with great excitement.

Reluctantly, you confessed that you did. Adding that music was one of the main sources of entertainment in your household. When you stated that you could play most string instruments, Geralt closed his eyes. Seeing the two of you bonding over your music, made him fear either of you playing a song.

Because after the exploits they had encountered in the last township, he had no desire to hear noise.

“Would you play something?” Jaskier asked, passing you his lute.

You were flattered that he would entrust you with his prized possession. However, you hesitated. Though you knew many songs, you played according to mood. And with how you were feeling, a sorrowful melody was likely to come through.

“Go on, Lass!” A man drunken man shouted from a nearby table. “Help me drown out my talkative companions.”

Carefully, you positioned the lute, finding that your fingers eased about the instrument comfortably. With a deep breath, your eyes shut so you could drown the noise around you. From the pluck of the first note, a sense of peace washed over you.

youtube

You were no longer in a dimly lit, packed Tavern. But rather, sat by the scenic lake nearest your cottage.

As you played, the commotion in the establishment began to die down. From weary traveler, to the most imposing of Hired Sword, everyone was soon listening to your haunting melody. As for Jaskier, he rested his cheek in hand as he watched.

It wasn’t often he came across someone like you. Not only were you amiable, but you now proved to be quite talented. After setting down the rolls and pitcher of Black Mead, the Tavern Maid observed a while before getting to her work.

She too seemed to prefer music over the usual cursing and threats to take fights outdoors.

When you struck the last chord, you were astounded by the eruption of cheers and mugs hitting the tabletops. Your father and Uncle always complimented your playing. However, you had assumed they only flattered you because they were family.

With a bashful expression, you passed the lute back to Jaskier.

“Y/N, you are quite fascinating.” He remarked. “Not only can you sew beautifully, but you have the makings of a Bard.”

“Though I hardly deserve such praise, I will accept it graciously.”

“Good. Now, how about you start eating while I pour us some mead.”

Naturally, you were still quite famished; however, you didn’t want to make a pig of yourself. So instead of taking several rolls, you took one and began spreading the butter. As you were doing so, you realized Geralt staring at you once again.

“My Lord, is there something on my face?”

Though he appeared irritated by your very voice, he replied that you were bleeding. How he could know such a thing was a mystery. Because, at present time, you were sat across from both he and Jaskier.

When you touched the back of your head, and looked at your palm, Geralt was proven correct. Apparently, the wound had begun to seep.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaimed. “That’s why that fabric is about your head. All this while, I thought it was some new trend.”

“If only.” You replied with a weak smile. “An old man applied ointment to my head before tying this. I only wish I got his name before he disappeared.”

As you removed the kerchief and folded it, Geralt reached inside his cloak. He then produced a small vial and held it towards you.

“Here. Drink this.”

“My Lord, I will do no such thing.” You replied. “First, tell me what it is. Even better, tell me how you knew I was bleeding.”

Despite your words, he said nothing more. Instead, Geralt studied you as if you were an inanimate object.

“My Lord…………”

“For the last time, I am no Lord.”

“Oh, so you CAN put more than five words together.” You jested. “At any rate, since you refuse to tell me how to best address you, I shall keep using the title. My father says it’s best to err on a high position.

Refusing to be drawn into banter, Geralt set the vial on the table.

He then took hold of his mug and got to his feet. When Jaskier asked where he was off to, he nodded towards the door. Despite the storm, it appeared that he was in no mood for company or conversation. As Geralt departed the table, you watched with great curiosity.

“How did he know I was bleeding?” You asked, your gaze following his dominating figure out the Tavern. “Is he part Demon?”

“Demon? Why do you assume such a thing?”

“For one thing, his hair. That alone tells me that he is no mere mortal. But also, his eyes. They seem…………well…………sinister.”

Though he tried, Jaskier burst into laughter. Indeed, he had called Geralt many things whenever they fought. But sinister, was not one of them. Between chuckles, he assured you that his brooding companion was no Demon. In fact, he was one of the few people that stood between such creatures and the innocents.

But from your expression, it appeared you weren’t convinced.

“Why do I get the feeling that you distrust, Geralt?”

“It’s not that, my Lord.” You replied. “However, where I’m from, magic and magical being are not trusted. People are put to death for simply buying magical items.”

“But Stillwell seems quite open-minded.”

“I did not grow up here. I spent most of my life in Narin.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your father was King’s Guard there.” Jaskier remarked, recalling your past conversation. “Tell me, how did you come to reside here?”

Though you stated it was a long tale, he shrugged. Lifting his mug, he reminded you that there was nothing but time. After all, the storm didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Since they had been so kind, you figured it wasn’t an unreasonable request. Thus, you quickly decided to oblige.

So, as Geralt sat in the enclosed stables, drinking his mead beside Roach and Moss, you shared your life with Jaskier.

“Apple thief.” Geralt exclaimed.

He the grabbed hold of Moss’s bit before rolling his eyes.

Though you had insisted on riding, it was apparent that you were too fatigued. Not only had you fallen asleep twice, but you kept saying things that made little sense. Typically, such a thing wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Especially since your Uncle’s steed followed your companions at a good pace. However, you had also nearly fallen both times.

And since a broken neck would do no one any good, Geralt was becoming irate.

“Y/N, you slept again.” Jaskier remarked as he brought his hired mare alongside. “Either you ride with one of us, or risk having an even worse headwound.”

You yawned as you looked about the forest. Though you had given proper directions, your mind was hazy.

“Are you certain we’re headed the right way?” You asked as you stifled another yawn.

“We exited the Western gate and veered left when we passed the guard tower.” Jaskier replied. “So, by now, we are quite deep in the Highland Grove.”

Though he repeated your directions perfectly, you still had quite the time processing your surroundings. Everything felt somewhat………off.

“Perhaps it’s best if you rode with me the rest of the way.” Jaskier suggested. “Otherwise, you are likely to get hurt.”

You wavered, however, you soon brought Moss to a halt. As Geralt held the bit, you dismounted and stretched a bit more. Suddenly, his neck snapped to the left. With a tense expression, the brooding warrior peered into the darkness.

Evidently, he was observing something neither you nor Jaskier could see.

“Don’t move.” Geralt commanded.

In one swift motion, he dismounted before pressing a finger to his lips. Unsheathing his sword, he shoved you behind his person. It was then the cold of the night finally hit you. As you held your coat about you more firmly, you tensed your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

“There are five of you.” Geralt declared into the darkness. “If you wish to live, keep to your business.”

“And whom are you, stranger?” A voice replied in amusement. “From what I see, you appear a foreigner. Therefore, unless you are a patsy of the Magistrate or Town Council, your word holds no weight here.”

You expected Geralt to say something more. But instead, he simply grumbled before looking over his shoulder. After advising you to stay where you were, he began moving in the direction of the voice.

Without warning, the distinct sound of an arrow broke the silence.

It was enough to make you and Jaskier draw anxious breath. But had you blinked; you would have missed what came next. Though it had been headed right for Geralt, he deflected the arrow as if swatting a fly. In fact, not even his expression changed as he pressed forward.

Stopping at the tree line, he suddenly extended his free hand.

At first you were confused. What Geralt hoped to accomplish, you did not know. However, it became apparent that he was casting. Rapidly, an odd blue light formed in his palm. When satisfied with the scope of it, he released the energy into the darkness.

And it must have hit its intended target. Because what came next was a cacophony of agonizing screams and curses. When all the noise died down, three furious men came bounding out from the tree line.

“Damn abomination! You killed my mates with your sorcery!” A man wielding two blades shouted.

In the entirety of your life, you had never witnessed such a battle up close. Sure, your father and Uncle had protected the family on many occasions. However, nothing to the degree of what was before you.

“Keep behind me, Y/N.” Jaskier whispered as he kept hold of the steeds. “If anyone wanders close, I will protect you.”

You wanted to ask what weapon he intended to use. Because from observation, the only thing he could wield was his lute. Nevertheless, since it was the thought the mattered, you remained silent. As things got bloodier, you avoided the carnage by looking to the ground.

Mercifully, the violent commotion began to fade. Before long, it was replaced by the song of crickets once more. When you looked at Geralt, he hardly looked like he had just fought off three men. Not only was he breathing normally, he was calmly wiping the blood from his sword.

“You used magic on them.” You said, peeking out from behind Jaskier.

Ignoring you completely, Geralt commanded you to continue the journey on the Bard’s steed. Incensed at being snubbed, you stared at him.

“Though you are no mortal, my Lord, I must say this. You simply do not understand how things work in Stillwell.” You said as he tied a rope to Moss’s reigns. “You cannot simply execute people here. The law states that one must give opportunity for surrender.”

“Hmmm.”

“Is that it?” You asked. “You just killed five people and all you can do is grunt.”

“Apple thief, get going.”

“Apple thief? I have a name, you know!”

As if you had said nothing at all, Geralt pointed to Jaskier who was stood by his hired steed. Sensing the awkward tension between you, the poor Bard gave a meek wave.

“Alright!” You fumed. “If you will not address anything I have said, at least answer this. What are you, exactly?”

After giving an exasperated sigh, Geralt grabbed hold of you. With little effort, he then set you upon the saddle by force. Hiding a smirk, Jaskier mounted the steed, taking his place behind you. As he took hold of the reigns, you perceived the Bard was on the verge of laughter.

“The absolute nerve of him!” You seethed. “That man is not only a Demon, but a rude one, at that.”

“You know something? Despite being his closest friend, I cannot argue with the last bit.”

Jaskier then snapped the reigns as your little convoy continued down the road.

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wishingforatypewriter · 4 years

Text

The Price (Fantasy AU)

Summary: Sir Eishi and Lady Rindou are called away from their country estate once again. (Original AU posts here and here)

After the hunt, Eishi prayed over the deer he had killed, and butchered it himself before handing it over to the kitchens at his estate. He then soaked in the bathhouse, admiring the dragon mosaic on the ceiling and missing the gold Rindou had spent on its installation less and less. He had never expected to live the life of a lord, but he’d be lying if he ever said it didn’t agree with him.

After the bath, he walked the grounds of the estate, checking in with the farmers and taking stock of the ripening crops. The lemon trees were coming along nicely; Rindou would like that. She always managed to acquire new tastes and cravings whenever they traveled.

Eishi had just been discussing the possible addition of a fountain to the gardens with the landscaper when the messenger arrived. He could tell just by looking that it was one of Azami’s men.

“Just me, or both of us?” he asked with a sigh.

“Our lord requires you and the lady both, sir.”

He ran a hand down the length of his face. “Head to the manor house and our servants will see you fed. I’ll go tell her.”

He found Rindou in her menagerie, heating dragon eggs in a kiln while she fed tiny strips of meat to the fledgling griffin perched on her left shoulder. A gaggle of the manor’s children stood around her, listening with rapt attention to her stories of collecting kraken ink on the eastern sea and pixie pollen in the vale. Eishi stood in the doorway for a moment, memorizing her wolf grin and open posture. The news he brought would sour her mood, and he needed a smile to remember before they entered the fire of battle again.

The wolf grin broadened when she spotted him, and she kindly sent the children back to home and field. “There you are. How was the hunt?” she asked, bouncing over to him. “Will there be something yummy for dinner tonight?”

“I think I heard one of the cooks mention venison stew.”

She licked her lips at the thought. “Wonderful! I hope they make a cake as well. Or maybe a pie. They had lemon pies in that town we captured last year and maybe when the trees are ready—”

“Rindou,” he said, filled with regret for having to tell her and wanting very badly to be over and done with it. “Lord Azami has called on us again.”

At once her mouth became a hard line. She rolled her eyes. “What does he want from us now?”

“The citadel, and the free mage city.”

“The mages have done nothing,” she said, crossing her arms. “They have not brought arms against him. They’re not even a kingdom. Why should we interfere with them?”

“Because the Lord Azami asks it,” Eishi replied with a sigh.

Rindou scoffed. “The Lord Azami can hang. I will not do it.”

“Rindou, the life we’re living now comes with a price, and we both know it. Before Azami found us, we had nothing. We were nothing.”

“And now he is nothing without us,” she said. “How long are we supposed to serve him? Do you not wish to be your own man?”

Eishi took her hand in his, and rubbed at the center of her palm with his thumb. “With luck, soon he will retake Totsuki Kingdom and be satisfied, and if not, we will break our ties with him when the time is right.”

Rindou raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I hear the talk at his court. If Azami retakes Totsuki, he will have you married off to his daughter and rule through you both.”

“He may try,” Eishi leveled. His lord had alluded to it once or twice before, and always tried to dissuade him from formalizing things with Rindou. “But I will refuse him.”

“You’ll need a backbone to do that.” Her tone was still sharp, but her eyes had softened to him. She wouldn’t stay angry for long.

He smiled at her then. “Good then that you have enough for both of us.”

“When are we to leave?” she asked, conceding.

“He wants us there in a week, and it’s six days’ ride to the citadel. We’ll feast tonight and leave at daybreak.”

Rindou shook her head at him. “Six days’ ride is an afternoon on dragonback. We’ll fly.”

“Rindou,” he groaned. Each time he made her get near that infernal beast, he swore he’d have an apoplexy and keel over once and for all.

“We fly or I’m not going.” Her voice had taken on the tone of a stubborn child and he knew there’d be no dissuading her this time.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But we will take horses on the way back.”

#shokugeki no soma #food wars #eirin #eishirin #eishi x rindou #tsukasa eishi #kobayashi rindou #fantasy au

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

Dumpling ch 31

“Mama,” Nenani asked from where she had curled up against her mother, one of her long thin arms draped over her daughter protectively. Haiyer was fast asleep and curled into his mother’s other side with their mother’s other arm wrapped around him. She had slept a little, but the rhythmic lilting of the pack they were being carried in make it hard to stay asleep. At least for Nenani it was and such restlessness did nothing but urge on the many questions that stewed inside her mind. “...am I a fire mage?”

Her mother’s fingers laced through her hair, pulling lightly at the tangles and only paused for a moment at her query before resuming the idle grooming.

“Yes,” her mother replied softly so as to not rouse Haiyer. “I hope you can understand why it was that I put the seal on you.”

“...to protect me?”

“Yes. But more than that,” she said. “There are so few left with the Flower’s power. You and I may very well be the last. Haiyer might still bloom, but...there are people who crave power and to people like that, fire mages are useful tools. Someone born with the potential for magnificent feats of magic. Or monstrous feats of destruction. They would seek you out and try to make you do things. Things you wouldn’t want to do.”

“Barnaby said that people use to kidnap children who were fire mages if their family wasn’t rich...”

“Yes,” her mother said. “It was horrible. My father encouraged it, calling it a mercy for the families and a blessing for the child. That to surrender your blood in such a way...for the good of out kingdom.”

She shifted as she considered her next question. “Was grandfather...a bad person?”

Her mother did not answer right away. “People are hardly ever just one thing. And they’re different things to different people,” her mother explain. “My father was not a gentle man, no. He was strict, but I knew he loved me. In his way.”

“But he banished you...” It was hard to get around the idea that a father could just throw his child away like that. She couldn’t imagine her own father doing it.

“I broke his heart first,” Oira replied, her voice sounding thick. “He was crying as he read out my punishment. So I knew it pained him, but...I was still forced to leave.”

It wasn’t a satisfying answer and she felt inclined to think ill of her maternal grandfather regardless.

“Sometimes I wonder if what he was trying to do was grant me mercy,” her mother continued. “If I had stayed, both my life and yours would have been horrible. By leaving, he gave me a way to start afresh. At least...that’s what I hoped he meant. I still love him even now and he did allowed Captain Haiyer to honorably discharge your father so that he could come with us. Instead of facing possible execution.”

“He...he would have killed Papa?” Nenani asked in real alarm and raised her head, but Oira pushed her back into place, petting her hair as though to sooth her back into calmness.

“No, it wouldn’t have gone that far. But others may have pushed it to further their own agendas. Any sort of upheaval at court was always a chance for someone to get an upper hand in some dealing or another.”

“Did uncle have to go too?”

“No, Halden stayed. He only found us much later after the capitol fell. He was one of the few that made it out. It was actually by chance he found us at all. He’d bargained for passage on a barge on its way to the Southland Port where he ran into your father. It’s how….how I found out about...how my family died.”

Nenani fell into an uneasy contemplation and then quietly asked, “Would you be able to teach me how to be a fire mage?”

“I was only ever taught the basics. Mostly how to control the flames so they didn’t just burst out whenever I became upset. I wouldn’t be able to teach you much. But I will teach you what I know.”

“I wonder if Maevis would be able to teach me some too,” she contemplated allowed. “And maybe...maybe if I got good at it...I could help.”

“Aidus would kill you if you stood up to him,” Oira said firmly. “No. I want you as far from that as I can get you. And from what you have told me, it sounds as though there are plenty of others in Vhasshal who would agree with me. You’re a child, Nenani. Not a soldier.”

“I don’t want him to hurt any more of my friends...”

“Perhaps,” her mother said. “Once I have spoken to King Warren, we might be able to assemble a defense against Aidus. He’s strong enough to take on several giants all on his own. But he has an army of bewitched serpents at his command as well. It will take...a lot to bring him to heel. You bought us time by killing the dragon. But we can’t hope for more than a month or so.”

They settled into a nervous silence with only the sound of rustling leather and the muffled sound of Keral’s boots to fill the silence. Eventually, sleep came for them all, though neither Nenani or her mother had pleasant dreams.

…………………………………………………………….

When Nenani woke up, she felt sluggish and the air inside the pack was stale and smelled of body odor and whiskey. She was curious about when had woken her when she heard a voice. “Captain, we weren’t expecting you back for another –!”

“Give this note to Captain Rheil,” Keral barked. “It’s of the upmost urgency. I’ll be waitin’ fer him in the west wing’s solar.”

“Uh, sir. There was a fire in the west wing and...”

“East wing then. Hurry on, boy.”

“Oh, of course. But sir, I...”

“Now, you useless halfwit!”

“Yessir!”

“And have some wine brought too!”

She could hear the young Vhasshalan guard scamper off to hurriedly carry out his orders and Keral moving away down a corridor. After several long minutes of silence, there came the sound of large metal hinges screeching as a door was opened and then slammed tight again. The pack tilted alarmingly, and its occupants let out cries of alarm.

“Sorry,” Keral said, flipping the top of his pack open and allowing fresh air in. “Forgot to warn ya.”

He had set the pack down on a wooden bench that faced another bench of similar design and wood. Between them was a low table with the whole affair arranged beside a tall and beautifully ornate stone fireplace. The room’s ceiling was high with its wooden support beams showing through the plaster. He sat down heavily beside them, running a hand down his tired face.

“Can we come out?” Nenani asked as she fidgeted inside.

“Not just yet. I don’t want anyone to be seein’ ya until we’re in front of the King. So just sit back fer a bit.”

“Who is Rheil?” Oira asked, setting Haiyer in her lap. The little boy’s eyes drooped heavily and he was only dimly aware of his surroundings.

“Captain of the guard,” Keral said. “Probably the most trustworthy man here. He took up the post when I refused it.”

Oira snorted. “They wanted you to be Captain of the guard?”

Keral eyed her in annoyance. “That surprise ya, does it?”

“Greatly.” In response, Keral flipped the lid of his pack back over them. Oira gave a startled “Hey!” before Keral shushed her.

“Someone’s comin’. Hush up.”

The door to the room opened and a slim girl carrying a large decanter of wine walked in. “Apologies, my lord. The kitchens are still a mess and they had to move the wine stores to make room for the temporary cook camp.”

“Never ya mind, lass,” Keral said amiably. “I thank ye.”

“Will that be all, m’lord?”

“Fer now.”

“I’ll take my leave then.” The door closed and left them in silence for only a few short moments before it opened again.

“Rheil,” Keral said in muted greeting as he rose and met the Captain halfway.

“Keral,” said the captain, sounding confused and apprehensive. “We weren’t expecting you back for a few more days.”

“There were some...developments that brought me back early.”

“Oh,” Rheil said seriously. “So then..?”

“I need to have a conference with his Majesty. I want you, Maevis, and Barnaby there as well,” Keral said as he poured himself a generous cup of wine and took a long drink. “It’ll make this a hell of a lot easier if everyone is all in one place so I don’t have to go about repeatin’ myself and folks gettin’ the facts backwards.”

“Very well, I’ll see to it that they’re all assembled. Is this of a...sensitive nature?”

“The less folks know, the better.”

“Ah, then I suggest we have this conference in the King’s private study if he permits.”

“Agreed. I’ll wait here until everyone’s ready.”

“Why not simply come with me?”

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

“Very well,” Rheil said. “It’ll come back once everyone is assembled then.”

“I have a question for you Rheil before you go,” Keral said, voice serious and strained. “Jae. Is it true? That the Mage killed him?”

Nenani’s heart pulled alarmingly at those words and to her further dismay, her hands started to glow. She gasped and began to flail her hands as though to shake the affliction off of her. Oira reached out and grabbed her daughter’s hands, bringing them to her lips and kissing them lightly.

“Breathe,” she whispered. “The flames will feed off your fear if you do not control it. Just breathe, baby. You have mastery over the flower, not the reverse.”

“Is Jae…?” Rheil’ asked, sounding confused. “No, he’s not dead. Bruised black and blue from here to Timberbrook, but he’s alive.”

Nenani’s eyes widened and she could not suppress the relieved smile that spread across her face. Even in the dark of the pack, she could see her mother smiling back at her and the glow from her hands faded.

“Seven fuckin’ hells!” Keral said in abject relief and then laughed despite himself. “I’d heard the fucker had killed him.”

“Not for lack of trying, trust me. Threw the poor boy from the Library roof. Luckily for Jae one of my men was right below when he fell and caught him. But only after he’d hit the edge of a lower level on his way down. He’s busted up and his arm is broken, but he is very alive.” Rheil said and then his words grew soft and sad. “But...Farris’s little ward, Nenani. She’s dead.” He paused. “That Mage...the fucker fed her to his dragon. Right in front of me, Keral. I couldn’t get to her in time...”

Keral did not say anything for several moments and then in a quiet, but firm voice, said simply, “Best get going Rheil. Sooner what needs to be said is said, the better fer everyone.”

“...aye.”

The sound of the door closing once again marked his departure and Nenani could hear Keral’s boots clopping against the stone floor as he returned to the bench. “Sorry, lass. I’m thinkin’ it’s best we keep yer miraculous survival to ourselves until we’re before the King.”

“Will I be able to go see Farris and Yale and everyone soon?” she asked anxiously.

“In time,” he said. “But first we need to sort this mess out and see to yer Mum and brother. Just sit tight fer me, sweetling.”

The next half hour was spent in uncomfortable and anxious silence. Nenani could feel her mother becoming more and more agitated as time continued on and the only real sounds beyond their own quiet breathing was the sound of Keral drinking glass after glass of wine.

“I don’t know if I can do this...” Oria said quietly; her breathing having become more and more rapid. She was panicking. “Keral...I can’t do this.”

“Far too late fer any a’ that, lass,” Keral replied grimly. “Just keep hold a’ yer lil’uns and remember to breathe.”

“Don’t cry, Mama,” Haiyer said, cuddling up to her. “Don’t cry.”

She wrapped her arms around her son, but did not speak. Nenani wished she could go see Jae and talk to him. Or to Farris to let him know she was alright. But she was also loathed to leave her mother’s side, especially in such a state. She was beginning to feel awfully anxious herself. It was reminiscent of when she had waited for the King to judge her for stealing fruit from him. The pit of her stomach felt as though she had swallowed rocks and no matter how she sat or shifted, she could not get comfortable. So she concentrated on her breathing so her excessive emotions would cause her hands to spark again. How awkward would it be to get upset and mistakenly burn the King’s study down?

The flap of the pack opened, dousing them in warm sunlight and Keral frowned down at them.

“Ye all look like yer waitin’ fer the executioner’s swing,” he huffed. Oria did not rise to his taunt and he studied the woman for a moment. “Tell me, what are ye afraid of, Oira?”

She spared the ranger a glance and shook her head. “Everything. I’m afraid to look into his eyes and tell him the truth of his brother’s death and all that followed was my doing. That he’ll allow the children to stay,” she whispered. “But demand that I leave. Leave them forever and return to Aidus and to that life.” She let out a breathless sob and fat tear droplets dripped from her chin. “I...I don’t think I could ever return to him. I...I don’t want to, even though I know it’s what I deserve. It might even stop him. But...I can’t.”

“Give Warren a little credit, lass,” Keral replied gently. “He is Thadeus’s brother after all.”

“And the Blood King was their father,” she replied grimly. “I can’t expect his familial connections to save me.”

“Yer not on trail, y’know.”

“Yes I am,” she replied very softly, perhaps intending for the ranger to not even hear her. “From the moment I was presented at court at fourteen years old, all I have ever had on me were judgmental eyes. Deciding how much I was worth. What status my hand would bring. What they could have from me. And the very few people who never did are dead now.”

Keral opened his mouth to reply, but a knock at the door disrupted anything he would have said.

“We’re ready for you, Keral.”

“Aye.”

Keral flipped the pack’s lid and sealed them all back into the dark. Nenani heard him lock the pack’s cover into place and with a measured slowness, eased the pack onto his shoulders. The three humans were rocked inside along with the ranger’s gait as he left the room and followed Rheil down the long halls. Beside her, Nenani heard her mother stifle a sob and wished there was something she could say to make her smile.

“I’ll warn you now, Keral,” Rheil was saying. “The last couple days have left everyone on a razor’s edge. And this hasty meeting hasn’t done much to quell that. The King’s out for blood.”

“I would expect so,” he replied. “How bad’s the damage to the west wing?”

“Not nearly as bad as it could have been. The dragon only set fire to one portion of the roof and after it left, Maevis was able to easily douse the flames. Donal is overseeing the reconstruction plans. His Majesty’s been with Jae for the most part.”

“Injuries?”

“Minimal. A few burns. Some tapestries were destroyed, but nothing as bad as it would have been,” Rheil said and then added, “And then of course we lost Nenani.”

“How’s Farris and the lads?”

“Ruined,” Rheil said. “Farris sent Yale home for a few days to grieve in the comfort of his mother’s home. Everyone else is carrying on, but...you can tell.”

Keral rumbled noncommittally. Inside the pack, Nenani was miserable. She hated the idea that her very dear friends were in pain, believing her to be dead. For the life of her, she could not understand why she could not just go see them. She had to quell the swell of sadness before she began to spark. Another door opened and together, Rheil and Keral entered the King’s private study. The very place that Nenani had been brought months earlier to face the King for her own petty crimes. She hoped that he would be as kind to her mother.

“Keral,” came the angry voice of the King. “I hope you bring news of the Smoke Mage and how me might bring him to justice. Because I have a pike I’m sure his head would fit on nicely.”

“Your Majesty,” Keral replied and Nenani could swear she could hear the smirk in his voice. “I come to you bringing everything.”

“Explain yourself, then. Because right now I’d very much like to tear that human into pieces for what he did to my son and to that little girl.”

Keral very slowly sat his pack onto the ground, but made no motion to reveal its contents. Beside her, Nenani’s mother reached out and gripped her daughter’s hand and Nenani squeezed back.

“Fer months I’ve been chasing this shadow that we now know is a Smoke Mage. It’s attacked the villages, several people, and then killed a man. The Hill Tribes are the only ones to have reportedly seen the thing and none of the reports match one another. Then we have a seemingly happenstance Wyvern attack here at the castle. Maevis didn’t think it was so happenstance, though. There was...some weird magic all around it. Then Farris’s lil’ ward admitted to me that she had seen a man she claimed was “made of smoke” during the attack. During which he attempted to kill her. He did not succeed and after the wyvern had been killed, the Smoke Mage was no where to be found.”

“Keral,” came Maevis’s voice, but he did not sound at all like himself. “We know all of this, why do you need to...”

“Maevis, please,” Keral said. “It’s taken me a good while to string all this together. Once it’s all laid out, what comes next will make more sense.”

“Apologies. Please continue.”

“Then a field scout reports to me that a dragon’s attacked Vhasshal. On my way back, I spotted the damn thing and followed it for a half league or so. If the Smoke Mage is using these beasts, I might be able to find where he’s hiding. Just as it flies over the Daehil Nenani river, the fucker explodes.”

There came a weighted silence as Keral’s words were mulled over.

“The dragon...exploded?” came the incredulous voice of the King.

“Yep. Big ol’ ball of flames. Ripped the damn thing’s jaw clean off and it fell into the river. Then the river caught fire.”

Maevis made a strange sound of surprise as though he was choking on air.

“The river...caught fire?” Rheil asked incredulously. “...like at Riftside?”

“Aye, s’what I said and yeah. Looked the same too. And the closer I got to where the dragon fell, I could hear somethin’. Or rather, someone. Screamin’ their fuckin’ lungs out and each time they did, the fire got bigger and bigger.”

“A fire mage,” said the King, his voice serious. “You found a fire mage?”

“Aye, a right an’ proper fire mage.”

“Keral, sir,” came Barnaby’s shaking voice. “You...you don’t mean to tell us that...”

“She was in the water screamin’ her little head off. No worse fer wear ‘cept being torn from her wits and senses. Suppose almost being eaten by a dragon’ll do that to anyone, let alone a wee lass.”

“Answer me plain, Keral. Who did you find?”

“Nenani. She was sparkin’ up a storm and gettin’ ready t’light whole valley up.”

“Nenani? She...bloomed?” Maevis asked. “But what of...”

“You mean she is alive?” Rheil asked.

“Keral, where is she now?” the King demanded.

Light flooded into the pack once more as Keral lifted the top away and reached inside for Nenani and pulled her out. “She’s right here.”

He sat her gently onto the King’s large desk and her eyes were still adjusting to the light when there came many voices of surprise and elation. The King sat in his chair behind the desk and to his right stood Rheil. They looked at her as though she were a ghost and she supposed she sort of was, but it wasn’t a moment later that Rheil broke out into a wide smile. Then Barnaby was suddenly at her side, wrapping his arms around her and crying. “Oh, Nenani, you are alive!” he cried. “Praise the Seven Seals! Gods above!”

“Dear child,” Maevis said, breathless with relief and when she looked up into his honey colored eyes, he was smiling warmly, holding one hand to his heart. “We were sure he had killed you.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” she said, burying her face into the old man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, pish-posh! You haven’t a thing to be sorry for! What an idea, apologizing for being attacked by a dragon!” Barnaby said, pulling her away from himself to study her over. “Oh, young master Jae will be so glad to hear you’re safe.”

“And Farris,” Rheil added. He looked to Keral with an expression that was meant to be admonishing, but was tainted by his own relief. “You mean to say you had her stashed in there the entire time I was telling you how upset everyone was? You’re terrible.”

Looking as smug as the cat that just caught the biggest rat, Keral shrugged. “Ha! She ain’t the only thing I have in here,” Keral replied. “And if ye thought her bit was fantastical, well...” Keral reached down into the pack. “Come on then, lass. Up ye get, now.”

With a gentle hand, Keral helped Oira step from the pack and onto the desk. She was very pale and she held her hands clasped together as though to hide the fact that she was trembling. The gathered Vhasshalans looked to her in mute confusion and expectation. The King, however, was looking at her with a sharp and suspicious eye.

Barnaby’s hands left Nenani’s shoulders and he stared at Oira, mouth agape. In turn, Oira stared back and when recognition struck her, it was as though a damn had broke and she broke into a sob. “Oh, Master Barnabas...”

Barnaby slowly walked towards her, reaching out in an almost disbelieving fog. His wrinkled and worn hands cupped the woman’s face and he had tears in his eyes. “My dear girl. Oh, I dared not hope...that it might be true. That somehow...you had survived. Dear child...”

“You don’t know how good it is to see you,” Oira laughed through her tears and hugged the old archivist tightly. Though he readily returned the sentiment, his face was one of regret and pain.

“Barnaby,” said the King when the two parted and the old man had a moment to compose himself. Though his words were genial enough, there was suspicion in his eyes and his back was straight and stiff. “Might you be so good as to make the introductions for us?”

“Ah! Of course, forgive me, sire,” the older man said hastily and took a formal bow. “My lords, I have the immense honor and privilege to introduce to you all, Flowered Princess Aine Elaine Oira, Duchess of Ravenwood, and sixth child of the late King Haeral XVI.”

Nenani could see the way her mother seemed to tense up as her name and titles was said aloud and she did not meet anyone’s gaze. For several moments, no one spoke and the King stared into her with sharpness that made Nenani feel uneasy.

“Annie,” said the King softly, his eyes piercing. “You’re Annie.”

Oira did not meet his eye and only nodded in mute confirmation. The King’s gaze roamed over her figure, taking in her story that was written plainly on her body. Her hair cut shot, her neck marred with old scars, and most of all her demeanor. She carried herself much in the same way Nenani had when she faced his judgment and his eyes flickered between Oira and Nenani and there was a spark of recognition.

“We had thought my father slaughtered you with the rest of your kin,” King Warren said though not unkindly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Your Majesty...” she said, her head bowed and voice unsteady. “I...I have something to tell you. And I...I beg you to allow me to finish what I have to say without pause. Because if I stop, I am afraid I will never be able to finish and what I have to say you need to know. It is your right and I have taken far too long in coming to you.”

Warren considered her for a moment and then gestured to her. “You have the floor, m’lady.”

“...the night that Crown Prince Thadeus died,” she began and there was a palpable shift in the room. Muscles tensed and eyes narrowed, but she pressed on. If she stopped now, the words would never come. “He was in Silvaara because I asked him to come. I needed his aide. To leave. I...I had been banished by my father for defying him and taking a man not my betrothed. I was carrying his bastard child and he refused to allow her to be born under his sigil. He had Master Barnabas remove me from the archives so it was as though I never existed. He is wrong to call me a Princess because I have not held the right to that title in more than a decade.” She took a deep fortifying breath. “The man to whom I had been promised is named Aidus. When I was banished, he refused to accept it and he would not let me go. He tried to kill the child still inside me, but Thadeus stopped him.”

She took a breath.

“Aidus killed Crown Prince Thadeus when he tried to save me and my unborn child and the man that would become my husband. He told us to run and Aidus killed him for it.” She quickly dabbed at her flowing tears and continued on quickly before her courage ran dry. “I could not come to you to tell you the truth of it, because I feared your father’s wrath. That he might kill me and my baby and Hayron. So I stayed away while the war waged on. All these years I thought that your father still lived. So we hid away in the Southlands. But Aidus found us again just as I learned I was with child once more. He killed my husband and took me away and I was forced to leave my brother in law and young daughter. I was able to convince him that the son I bore was his blood so he would not kill him.

“But last year he threatened to kill my baby boy when he showed no promise of ever blooming. So I ran away with him. The Smoke Mage who had been ravaging your lands is Aidus. He has been looking for me. And also my daughter so that he may use her to force me to return to him.”

Oira was trembling terribly and her eyes swam with tears.

“Above everything, sire, the one thing I wish for you to know is how much I deeply regret involving the Prince in my matters and leading him to his death. I do not ask for forgiveness as I know I do not deserve it, but I beseech your mercy that my children may rely upon your protection. If Aidus gets the chance, he will kill them both and they’re the last of my father’s bloodline. If Silvaara is ever to live on, even as a memory, so must they.”

The room became very quiet and Nenani could see all the hard faces of the Vhasshalans gathered. All but Keral wore expressions of anguish and anger and it was almost as if she could feel their gazes upon her mother’s shaking form.

“Please,” Oira said lastly, her voice faint and wavering. “They’re innocent in this...they’re only just children...”

“My lady, are...are you alright?” Barnaby asked, reaching out to grasp Oira’s hand. Her eyes were unfocused and listless and all at once she crumbled to the floor as every muscle holding her up failed her. Barnaby fell to his knees, looking upon the Princess in anguish. “Oh –! Oh my lady!”

It seemed to break everyone from their introspection as they looked down at the unconscious woman. Keral stepped up and slipped his hand behind her shoulders and propped her up. “Oi, lass. Come on now, stay with us.”

“Gods above, m’lady!” Barnaby fretted, wiping his hands down her face and lightly patting her cheek, but there was no response. “Oh, please, answer me dear.”

“Mama!” Nenani went to her mother’s side. Her skin was clammy. “Mama? What’s wrong with her?”

“Don’t worry Sweetling. She’s just fainted is all,” Keral replied and looked to King Warren, who stared broodingly over the proceedings, his eyes shining. “After I fished Nenani from the river, she came out of the woods and tried to sneak away with her. She thought I meant t’hurt her girl. When I told her where I was takin’ the lil ‘un, she asked me to take her lil’ boy as well. Then she told me what she’s just told all of ye. Took a grand effort fer me to get her here. Fretted the entire way. Not all that surprised he fainted.”

Nenani let their conversations wash over her as she stared at her mother’s prone form. How many times did she wish for her mother to miraculously appear and make her feel better. To protect her. To chase away the nightmares. But now that she had actually appeared, Nenani felt...disappointed. And it made her hate herself for feeling that way. Her mother was broken and hurt and even she could see in her mother’s eyes the scars left from baring the life she had for so many years. In all her wishing, it had always been for her mother to come save her, but now she could not shake the feeling that it was her mother that needed saving. She was dimly aware of her hands beginning to glow, but she felt no desire to quell them. She wanted to feel the pain and to scream out like she did at the river. For that release. It hurt. It hurt so much to see her mother this way. So changed from the person shew knew. She hated him for what he did to her. Aidus was a monster and she hated him...

“Gods above!” came Barnaby’s startled yelp. “Nenani–!”

“Sweetling,” Keral said shortly. “Yer sparkin’ again, lass.”

She looked down at herself to see her hands and forearms up to her elbows were glowing and the fainted flames flickering at her finger tips.

“Calm, my friends. It is to be expected,” said Maevis as he reached out and gathered her up into his gloved hands, wholly unconcerned with the flames. Looking into his face, Nenani could see him smiling sadly at her. “She is newly bloomed and the current state of emotions do not lend for a calm environment. Her feelings are feeding the mage fire, but it is harmless. A fire mage has to be taught how hurt people with their flames. It does not come naturally.” He brushed a finger against her cheek and Nenani pressed her face into the touch. “You’re alright, my dear. No harm done.”

The King said nothing as he rose abruptly from his seat, the sound of the wood scraping loudly, and he walked to the window; drawing everyone’s attentions to him. He raised an arm up and rested against the glass as he stared at the world beyond its pane. “I never could understand,” he said at last. “Why my brother would have been in Silvaara. There was no reason for it to anyone’s knowledge. My father was so grief stricken that he would hear nothing of it unless it was to blame Silvaarans for luring him there under false pretenses. To deliberately invoke a war. Because how else did he get there? He must have gone under his own volition. And I suppose that was true.”

Warren turned his head so as to look upon the woman laying unconscious atop his desk, his eyes narrowed.

“Sire,” Barnaby said, his face pleading. “I beg of you to show her your mercy. She was but a girl at the time. Barely seventeen and with child and facing banishment from her home and having herself erased from the history of our country. There was no malice in her actions, she was only scared. She loved your brother.”

“Calm yourself, Barnabas. You do not need to fear for her,” said the King as he turned back to face the room. His eyes lingering upon Oira’s face and the hard steel of his eyes softened. “I do remember her. Thadeus considered her an intimate friend. And though it pains me greatly to know that such amiable feelings were what brought him to the scene of his own death, I do not blame Annie. She did not kill Thadeus, whatever the guilt she carries. This Aidus person was the one to drive the blade into my brother’s heart. My eldest brother’s memory is one of the last pure things I have left of my family. I cherish it beyond words knowing he was a good man. A true friend and if he had been given the chance, a noble King.” He took a breath and released it slowly. “And if he were here right now, he would not blame the Princess in the least. Nor shall I.” The King looked to Nenani and seeing the fretful way she stared back, he smiled warmly. “You have nothing to fear, Nenani. I shall see to it that your mother is taken care of and is given the rest and care she needs.”

“Thank you, sire,” she said, though the flames of her hands only diminished minutely and she looked down at them glumly.

“And should you feel any shame or misgivings of having bloomed,” he added. “Please know that you are still under my protection. You’re new...talent does nothing to change that.”

The flames slowly faded and dispersed and she smiled through her own tears. “Okay.”

“Hm,” Warren said with a nod before shifting his focus to the Ranger Captain. “Keral, she spoke of another child. A son. Do we know where he is?”

“Oh, aye. Little buggars’s sleepin’ right here in my pack there,” Keral replied and eased Oira back down onto the table. Pulling up the pack, he reached inside to scoop up the sleeping child and holding him out as though to show him off to those gathered around. Haiyer was curled up and quietly sucking on his hand, the bluish stone Nenani had given him gripped tightly in the other, and he oblivious to everything and everyone around him. The King broke out into a wide smile as he looked upon the boy.

“My goodness, he is a little thing,” he said. “Just a babe.”

“Skittish lil’ tyke too,” Keral said with a frustrated huff. “Had to tell him humans taste like dirt so he would believe me when I said I wasn’t gonna eat ‘im.”

“Gods above,” Rheil chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“What is his name?” asked the King.

“Haiyer,” Nenani answered from Maevis’s cupped hands. “His name is Haiyer.”

“Haiyer,” Barnaby said with a sad smile. “Named for his paternal Grandfather. He was the Thorn Guard Captain. Hayron was his eldest son.”

There was a small whine from Keral’s hand and Nenani looked to see that Haiyer has woken up and was now looking at the giants around him with unapologetic terror. He began to whimper in fright.

“Oi, now,” Keral said down to the little boy. “What’s all this noise fer, lad? Yer safe.”

“Mama...” the child whined as he looked around and when he finally spotted her down below and unconscious, he started to wail. “MAMA!”

It was then that Oira began to stir, her eyes slowly opening and Barnaby helped her to sit up. “Slowly, m’lady,” Barnaby said. “That’s it.”

“MAMA!” Haiyer cried again.

Oira suddenly jolted, becoming alert and frantic as she looked around herself. “Haiyer? Where is Haiyer?”

“Calm down, lass,” Keral said as he brought his hand down to let the boy scramble off and throw himself into his mother’s arms. “The pup’s just had a bit of a fright.”

“You’re alright, baby,” she whispered to him. Oira looked around and belatedly saw the large Vhasshalans around her and she blushed a fierce scarlet. “My...my apologies, m’lords.”

The King reached down to pick up the small brass bell the laid to the side of his desk and gave it a single firm ring. A footman opened the door. “M’lord?”

“Inform Lolly that we have guests and have her prepare the Blossom room for Human use,” he said. “And bring Yaesha to me. He is to bring both Sawyer and his kit.”

“Very good, m’lord.” The footman left and the King returned his gaze to the young mother and still whimpering child trying to bury themselves into her skirts.

“M’lady, I understand the difficult circumstances that have brought you here to me,” he said, firmly, but not without kindness. Oira was listening with brittle attention, still looking quite pale and ill. “And I thank you for telling me the truth of my brother’s death, despite your clear apprehension in doing so. I will not speak of all that followed. There is no one here who had not been touched by the war. Too much of our lives have been devoted to it and it haunts too many of us still. I would have you know that you have no reason to fear retribution from neither me nor my house. Thadeus’s murder was not your doing nor do I blame you for what happened. What young mother wouldn’t do everything she could for her child?”

The King’s words seemed to make her mother wilt in relief and she hugged her son closer to her breast, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. “I...I am so very glad to hear you say so, m’lord. So very glad. I thank you for your mercy.”

With sympathetic eyes, Warren studied the woman who could not even meet his eye. The little boy peeked out from his mother’s sleeve, watching the King warily and monarch smiled down at him. “I can see plainly you have had a hard life. As such, I would like the opportunity to honor my brother’s legacy and extend an invitation to you and your son to stay here in Vhasshal, under my protection. Just as you daughter has these passed months. A room will be prepared for you and your children within the royal apartments so you may rest and recover in peace.”

She nodded again, stifling a sob.

“Annie,” the king said and waited until she had composed herself enough to meet his eye. “I am glad to see you again.”

#DUMPLING #G/t story #g/t writing #male giant #KING OF VHASSHAL #Warren #Keral #Oira #Nenani #Haiyer #Rheil #Maevis #Barnaby #Silvaara #Fantasy Story

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neshatriumphs · 5 years

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A Boy Called Red 8

This chapter has a lot of narration from Granny, so I wanted to tell y’all that I’ve always seen this character like Violet Devereaux from The Skeleton Key, if you need some reference for how she sounds or imagining her, whatever. So, Gena Rowlands doing her best with an old Louisiana accent. It was actually a pretty damn good accent.

To Whom It May Concern

A lot of things have happened in my long life. Not too long ago, though, the world ended. I was prepared. I been prepared for the end of the world since I knew what the world was. Whenever my daddy came into the room where my sister and I slept and treated us like objects, whenever I had a baby behind it at 12, whenever I bashed it open and fed it to the wolves in the woods… My world was over long before the rest of it. So, I stayed ready. I was on my own at 13. I married at 14. Nice enough man for a pedophile. At least I was taken care of. At least he wasn’t my daddy. A few years passed with me learning how to survive whenever he was off somewhere before I got pregnant with my first baby. That other abomination - I didn’t even count it. I didn’t even think about it half the time.

I had my first baby and he was the love of my life. His daddy gave me two others before he got sick and passed on. By that time, I was 23, and I’ll tell you the truth, I didn’t like leaving my home. The town changed around me. It was growing, things were being built. I didn’t like being a part of all of that, but my children did. As they got older, they went further into the town, deeper into the city, moved to other cities… I stayed where I was.

Whenever the world ended, they were here, with me. I didn’t want them to leave, to go back out there. I had animals and plants I was raising. I always did. But, the wolves came through to take them. I shot a few. Skinned them, made myself jerky, froze what I could… But, being one person, I couldn’t fight them all off. Eventually, the wolves outnumbered me, outnumbered my guns, and I had to take cover when they came calling to steal my livestock. I had to start using tunnels that my husband had initially used for workspace and storage. I hadn’t used that space since he passed away. Then, I started having to use it on a daily basis. And my family was gone. I presumed that they were out there someplace. Dead. But, my little grandson Sammy is the proof that at least one of them is okay. Sammy made it back...

Mercedes sat Sam down on the ground and addressed his wounds. “I have to try to tend to these, now that we’ve gotten away from them. Since I gotta take a break anyway. I mean, I’m strong, but I’m not an ox.” She was used to tending to wounds. Wolf life was definitely scrappy whenever it wasn’t detrimental. Sam was unconscious. He was dead weight right now and she had been carrying him on her back for a while. Kurt checked his inventory. He needed more stones. They heard Marley let out a wild scream and Mercedes winced, “Are we going back for your friend?”

Kurt sighed and looked at her, annoyed, “What is with you, huh? Why are you so intent to rush into a pack and try to save someone?”

“Haven’t you ever felt responsible for something? For someone?” She wondered, unable to look at him, because she was checking on Sam.

“I have several people that I am responsible for. That’s exactly why I’m not in a rush to throw my life out of the window. You keep wanting to do things, not because you feel responsible for somebody, but because you feel guilty. You’ve had to make shitty decisions and you don’t like it and whoever your mother is, she isn’t around to take the heat, right now! Just shut up! They’ll hear us and figure out where we’ve run off to.” He grabbed Sam’s arms and began to drag him; but, Mercedes stopped him and put Sam back on her back.

“You know, just because you’re right about some things doesn’t mean that you always have to feel like you need to use your words against people. It’s a tough world. We all do things we aren’t proud of. Some of us don’t even try to make stuff right. I don’t get you being upset with me for trying to.”

“Get yourself killed if it eases your conscious. Leave me out of that,” he told her. “We aren’t too far from where we left her.”

The injury that I’m gonna die from is from the fall. If I would have just let that gullible cub help me out, I might be here, recovering. Instead, I’m here, barely able to breathe. My lungs feel like they’re working harder than they should be. Probably filled with fluid. I needed some antibiotics after that amputation. I needed… Maybe I should have just went into the city with my surviving kids. I lost my firstborn son, not very long after the world ended. That precious darling rushed here to make sure his mama was okay. He tried to get me to come with him. He tried to get his siblings to convince me to come with him. I assured him that it was safer here. Obviously, I was wrong. He died, right on that front porch, right in front of my face, right in my arms…

And I couldn’t give him my tears. I was in shock. I was frozen until I realized that I still had children and grandchildren inside. I dragged him in. I bolted the doors. I turned off all of the lights. His brother wanted to bury him, but by that time, the livestock was low and the wolves were multiplying. It was only right that we should benefit from his loss! His brother and sister didn’t see it that way. They took their children and left. They didn’t even want me to kiss my grandkids goodbye. “You let this all ruin you, Mama,” Dwight told me as he pried Sammy out of my embrace. “You let life ruin you.” They were gone. I ate my firstborn in rations. I prepped the meat with the utmost care and concern. I froze everything that I couldn’t cook or make jerky out of. I put spare parts into a stew. I wouldn’t waste anything of his body. I let life ruin me? But, your son has rushed back to his granny… in the midst of wolves. Had they stayed here, every one of us would have been fine. I’ve gotta get to my firstborn’s grave. I gotta do it so that they realize that’s where to bury me.

“Am I tripping, or wasn’t his meemaw right here?” Mercedes wondered.

Kurt frowned, “She’s moved. Why would she move? That’ll kill her quicker?”

“Maybe there’s a certain place she wanted to die?” Mercedes suggested.

“Well… She can’t walk, so I guess we follow these tracks in the dirt. She dragged herself to wherever that place is.” They walked a little bit further and sure enough, right around a corner, they found her, barely breathing, rested against a stone with carvings in it, with a photograph.

Mercedes sat Sam down next to her and tried to pick up the rock, but it was bigger than it seemed and the other part was buried in the ground. “Oh my God, I think it’s supposed to be a gravestone!” She read, “Michael Walton Evans… This must be her husband or something… No… Too young. Maybe a son. She had two and a daughter in the family photos…” She tried to take the photo that granny was holding to see, but the old woman swung at her. “She’s alive!” She cheered as the weak slap connected with her face. She shook Sam. “Sam. Sam, wake up. We’ve found your Meemaw.”

He started and tried to focus. “Oh look… It's you…” He said, touching Mercedes’ cheek.

“And oh look, it’s her,” she said, taking him by the cheeks with one hand to turn his head to face his grandmother.

He gasped and suddenly had more energy as he became aware of her. “Meemaw?” He quickly checked on her and her eyes fought to open and look at him. “Hey. You remember me? I know it’s been some years, but it’s me… Sammy…”

“I remember you, Boy. You look just like me. More like your uncle Walt than like Dwight, I always said." Sam was already crying. "Shush that up, Boy. Got a lot to say and only a little time to say it in. You and this girl, you got to watch each other's backs. Ain't no trust in that Mama o' hers. S'gotta be you now. The two of you. Good kids that deserve to live. Wolves lives don't matter, but get you a pack, if you can. I'll tell you how. You got about 225 lbs of meat right here for barter…"

"Granny…" Mercedes started.

"I said hush, Girl. Y'all eat your share and barter the rest, or you salvage and freeze… got a deep freezer down here. Got a burner too. Try not to make too much smoke. Lanterns here. Wood stored away." She coughed. "If you don't barter this meat, at least live off of it. Stay here a little while. Bury the bones next to Walt's. I already made my stone. Just put the end date on it."

"Meemaw…"

"You look good, Sammy. Beat up, but healthy. Nurse yourself before you leave here, ya hear me? How's your daddy doing? Did this life ruin him?"

"No. He's doing his best."

"Good. Never was my favorite, but I always knew he was a survivor. And since you're his son, you're one too. We're fighters, Sammy. My fight is over. So,make sure this meat don't go to waste.. or to that wolf mama that stole my leg."

"Yes Ma'am."

"Gimme that bottle," she pointed and Mercedes obeyed. "This is gonna help the pain. Tools in the cabinet," she pointed to a full sized wardrobe looking cabinet as she drank.

Sam asked, "What tools?"

Mercedes opened the cabinet and said, "Meat tools."

Sam cried with his grandmother strumming his hair and humming a song. She sounded weak and he couldn't make out a melody.

No need for tears. I lived a full life. I was always cut out for a dying world. When it ended I fit right in. And now I move out of it and I have an inheritance to share with the future of my bloodline, with the future of my family. I may be leaving, but they made it.

Soon enough, she stopped humming stop strumming, and after a few more heartbeats, stopped breathing. Mercedes convinced Sam to take a drink of the liquor and he fell to sleep soon.

"We have to crash here for the night, maybe even a few days," Kurt told her. "They'll be out hunting, so I'll try to sneak back into the house and snoop around. But, if I run into trouble, don't come after me. If you make it out. Only talk to someone who knows Isabelle. She'll ask you, "So, why are you here," and you should say, "Mama caught me in the right hole."

"What?"

"Ask for Isabelle. Tell her that you know me. She'll ask you the question. That answer is the way to confirm that you did know me!" He grabbed his backpack. "In case I can't get back down here." He touched the old lady's face and told her, "You will always be remembered." Then, he was gone.

Mercedes took Granny from Sam and let him sleep things off. She hated this, but the woman was clear that she wanted her meat used, not buried. So, she made some distance between them and began to follow through. There was a trough sink that she could use and plastic wrap and bags for the meat. She placed what she could into the deep freezer. It had room, thank goodness. She looked around to see where else she might store some and ultimately decided to dare to go back into the house and use that freezer.

Sam was asleep, so she just grabbed the bloody hatchet and went on her own… the house was quiet. There was a lot of blood and streaks where bodies were dragged out. She hoped that one girl made it out. She put the bags of meat in the freezer and grabbed the abandoned fried green tomatoes, in disbelief that the wolves left them. She quickly went back through the passage and locked it behind her. Whenever she made it back, Sam was awake, crying and drinking. "Hey," she said. He looked up at her. "I've got some day old fried green tomatoes, if you're hun-" he snatched the plate and began shoveling them into his mouth.

Sam hadn't eaten in days. He got lost in the woods, had to kill, chased by murderers, locked in a cage, beaten up, watched his grandmother die, gotten drunk from a few sips of what he could only describe as probably poison, and woke up to find her body butchered. He wouldn't have an appetite if everything hadn't been so physically affecting. She grabbed a shovel and told him, "There's a cot in a cubby hole, past the trough. I'll handle the burying. You still look pretty messed up."

He stood up, dusted off his hands on his pants and took the shovel. "I saw the cot. There's also a little shower and a chest full of clothes and furs. You've done more than enough. Get washed up, get dressed, and get some sleep. I'll handle the burial. She's my family."

She nodded and gave him a hug, "I'm so sorry," she whispered. He dropped the shovel, fully embraced her back and rested against her, still pretty out of it, now that he thought about it. He pulled away, picked up the shovel and started digging. She gave him his privacy.

She was asleep when she felt something move near her and she grabbed the hatchet. Sam jumped and covered himself. He was naked! "Sorry! I wanted to shower and change. I tried to be quiet."

She nodded. "It's so quiet down here everything makes a little noise. She sat up and checked her lantern. It would last.

Sam grabbed something to dry off with from the chest, then slipped into a pair of sweats and a red shirt. "Move over," he said and climbed into the cot with her. Her face warmed up as she did so and he wrapped his arm around her and immediately went to sleep. Still feeling bad, she figured. At this point, he probably doesn't even care where he sleeps or who's next to him.

But, she woke up with his face nested in her breasts, both arms around her and a chubby in his sweatpants. She wriggled to free herself and took the lantern to see if she might find a place to pee… "The trough," a woman's voice croaked. Mercedes reflexively screamed and Sam reached for a weapon. Marley stepped into view, barely able to walk, covered in blood. "I need the trough," she said and grabbed the lantern to go to it. She cleaned herself up and tied her hair out of her face.

"There's a shower," Mercedes said.

"Hasn't been dead one day and you've made yourself at home," Marley complained.

Mercedes sighed and went to pee in the shower, because she didn't know where else to go. Gratefully, she only needed to do number one. When she went back to the cot, Marley was near the trough with Sam, licking his wounds… Girl. You ain't a REAL wolf! She rolled her eyes and laid back down. She could hear the two of them in there, drowning our their pain. She got up and interrupted. "Sam.. you should have the bed. You two are pretty beat up." It was like when he saw her again, he forgot his pain a little. "Are you coming?" She asked Marley.

The three went to the cot, but only two could fit. Marley said, "I can protect you from here," and sat on the ground, near the cot. She stared suspiciously at Mercedes. Mercedes cuddled closely with Sam and he wrapped her up in his arms again, but didn't fall to sleep as easily. For one thing, Marley was watching him. For another, Mercedes had seen her kiss him and might have thought that he liked her or something like that when really, he just didn't know how to respond to a wild woman pledging to protect him, then kissing him in the mouth. He didn't want Mercedes to think that something was between him and Marley.

Sleep came after a while. He woke up hearing voices.

"I won't let you hurt him," Marley said.

"I don't know how many times I can tell you that I'm not going to try to hurt him. I wasn't trying to hurt the old lady!"

"You helped kill her. I will protect her family."

"Okay, Girl. Move. Shit," Mercedes pushed her to the side and turned on the burner.

Sam came in and stared at the meat she was about to cook. "It's not her," she assured him. "This was already in the freezer whenever I went to store her meat."

He walked over to her, gave her a hug and kissed her on the temple of her head. "Thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it without you." She felt her face warm and she looked at Marley. Marley was still starting at her. She didn't trust her. Sam gave her a hug too. "Your face looks terrible," he said. We should tend to it."

"Isabelle," she said.

Mercedes nodded, "He's not going anywhere like this. If you want to, then fine. But Sam is staying put until he recovers just like Granny said to!"

Marley said, "Careful with her."

Sam just said, "Leave her alone." Marley snarled at Mercedes and Sam pressed his forehead against hers and growled, "I said leave her!" Marley was breathing heavy as she stormed off. She left the tunnels and Mercedes smirked. Sam watched the girl leave, then turned to Mercedes. "Not sayin' that I trust you. It would be stupid of me to trust anybody at this point… But, I want to trust you. So, I've decided to treat you like I do, unless you give me a reason not to." She nodded her head. His meemaw told him that the two of them needed to have each other's backs. That was pretty much her dying wish. So he was going to be here for her, like he said, unless she gave him a reason not to.

#samcedes mercedes jones samcedes fanfiction sam evans au glee fanfiction a boy called red abcr #Samcedes #AU Glee Fanfiction #A Boy Called Red #ABCR

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lucifer-kane · 5 years

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Hey guys if you read this/reblog it I’ll be forever in your debt bc I finally did something in Helimire and might continue from here

Christopher presses his hands into the cool white marble of the outside walls of Helimire’s city walls, his entire body shaking, the adrenaline slowly seeping from his body as he takes a moment to catch his breath. Well. This is the first time he’s been run out of the city in the many many years he’s lived in it. He knows who sent the assassins after him, that was obvious. The three bastard council members who have had it out for him since he started working in the capital. Attempting to pull himself, forcefully, up the latter to get his well deserved seat on the council.

They know him. They have a vague knowledge of who he is and what he wants to do and how he wants to change the city for the better. And that’s the thing. It’s for the better, for future advancement and betterment, like years before. The city is ready for change and Christopher could easily help with the things. With his scientific knowledge and ability to help with a numerous abilities the humans. Well those without magic he should say, that they will need help. Maybe not his own, but there are people already attempting to change how the city is. Not a lot, not badly. Just to advance their city for good.

But there are three people who seem to have a power over the rest of the council, people fear them because they’re just a step or two down from the king and queen themselves. They have the ability to hire mercenaries and assassins to deal with people they don’t like and will use those abilities to get what they want. Christopher has the ability to do the same things they do, as do other members of the council, but these three bastards. Briar, Jeramiah, and Garett, three very smart and powerful people who can manipulate anyone they can think of to follow in their paths. They constantly sway the vote of other board members, since all decisions have a majority governs all deal, and if the majority of the council doesn’t agree on passing something, then it doesn’t.

But they are senior members, have the power they do, and people just fear them at this point. Christopher doesn’t, a couple other council members don’t, but they have just enough of a grasp on the other members, that they’re overruled each time. But now Christopher is just damn tired and he wants all this to be over, the controversy is tiring and he, at this point, doesn’t want Helimire to fall to people like them, but if he doesn’t somehow figure something out soon, it will.

Right now though, he’s just going to take a time for himself, outside of Helimire. Not too far, he could never stray too far, this is his home and straying too far almost physically hurts him. So too his families old cottage he goes.

The hills outside of Helmire are beautiful, especially this time of the year when it’s warmest and he can smell the bright red and orange flowers that only grow in the thick cropping of trees, the ones his family planted when they were young. Christopher picks a few as he walks through the woods, coming to a large clearing where in the middle is a two story home, only slightly run down, not at all modern. He comes by to clean it up every few months, to keep it nice and good enough where he could come and stay for a little time.

Christopher takes a few hours to do some stuff around the home, building up a fire to make something to eat, because this home was so old that there was no dedicated place to cook that wasn’t the fireplace. It was always cold there, not because of anything weird, just because of the location, so the heat is good anyways. After that he sits down in the small cozy study that was half the size of the one he had in his home in Helimire, but he adored it. He wrote a couple of letters, one to his sister, wherever she might be. One to Silaf, who is one of the people who can easily tell both sides of the community where he is and that he’s okay, and one to William, his prince and a man who he doesn’t want to worry.

He was a little shocked that the man befriended him, but after a while he did realize. William Bello, the prince of Helimire, would rather spend his days in taverns as a undercover bard and artist, he liked the freedom he got, and his parents hardly could care. They were young and an heir wasn’t required of William, things worked different here and Christopher knew William adored the requirements. He didn’t have to do much other than learn and be tutored, but he was already advanced, mostly in art in music but he was wonderfully smart in other places as well.

He tells everyone where they can find him, giving Morgan only a few words since she could find him easier out of anyone, being his twin after all. William is the only one he has to give some detailed notes to, directing him out of the walls of the city of Helimire to the hills and deep into the woods there. While nothing bad came from the woods, there were all the normal dangers; wolves, bears, other such animals. Just in case the man wanted to visit. And Christopher hoped for it, just a little bit, in the back of his head.

But a few days go fast, he works like he usually does, going into the woods and grabbing random herbs and flowers from around the cottage, going deeper and hunting for something more than simple foods, a deer is good, they’re large here, the bucks taller than himself and almost frightening to look at. But he kills it easily, painless death with magic and he carries it back on a small wagon. He uses every bit of the animal, there’s no such thing as waste to him with these sorts of things, Christopher can use all of it, weather it be in food or in potions, he stores away all the other things besides the meat outside where nothing can get to it, and makes a simple stew for himself, in a large pot over the fire with some herbs and sweet flowers to give flavor and some vegetables that still grew wild just outside the cottage.

The clearing was overgrown, but the view wasn’t ugly, it was covered in flowers and foods, that while didn’t sustain any humans anymore, animals fed freely from it and with the magic Christopher dusted over it many many years ago, things continued to grow from it as time went on, 350 years and things were still like the day he planted them with his sister shortly before they moved to a rapidly growing Helimire city.

Being there, he was brought back to his childhood, thinking of when he and his sister were children, before their parents were gone and Helimire was even a blip on Astor’s radar. There are moments when he missed that time, where he misses his mother and father more than anything in the world and it hurts his heart. Tears well to his eyes and he walks into the garden while food is still cooking, dropping down onto his knees in one portion to dig some weeds out of the area and put more magic into the grown, some of the plants growing before his eyes as he does so. Christopher picks another bundle of flowers, a bright shock of red, orange, and pink against the dark clothes he wears. He presses his nose into the petals and breaths in the scent, sweet and thick, like the perfume his mother wore and that his sister still sometime did. That only existed to the two of them anymore.

“I never picked you for a gardener, dove.” Christophers head shoots up at the voice coming from the edge of the clearing, not too far from where he kneels, a dressed down William stands, dark curls messy and soft brown skin specked with some dirt as he seemed to get into a few situations coming up into the hills. Christopher can’t help the soft chuckle that comes from his throat.

“Only when I’m here,” He smiles, standing and walking over to his dear friend. “I didn’t actually expect you to bring yourself all the way out here just to visit.”

“Well I wanted to check up on you, ask you why you’re holding yourself up in…” His eyes flicker to the cottage and Christopher snorts a bit. “Here…”

“Come inside, I’ll explain everything over dinner.” Christopher nods his head to the cottage and William follows behind, his eyes looking at everything once they enter, taking a deep breath and exhaling after a moment.

“Oh it smells amazing in here.”

“I would hope so, I know I’m an excellent cook.” Christopher chuckles and fills two bowls with the stew then pulling apart a loaf of bread for them both. They both sit down on the small table in the room near the warm fire.

“So…” William starts after a few bites of food and telling Christopher how good the food is. “What are you doing here and not in your large beautiful home in Helimire?”

“Someone tried to kill me in my own home, so I decided to come to a home of mine that know one knows of.” Christopher takes a bite of food, like he wasn’t just telling someone that people were trying to murder him. William drops the bread in the stew and looks at Christopher like the man has grown another head.

“You… Christopher who? You can’t just drop that on me of all people and expect me not to be worried for you.” Christopher waves a hand.

“William it’s nothing for you to worry about, darling I am going to be fine, it’s not the first time, it has just been a while.”

“That… Christopher I know you live a hell of a weird life, but dove… I’m still worried even more now that you say this has happened before.” Christopher shakes his head and reaches out and grabs both of William’s hands in his own and looks deep into the mans lighter blue eyes.

“William, my dear, my friend. You know who I am and what I am. You got the luxury of knowing that many months ago and that should be enough. Nothing bad will happen to me, I just need to stay out of the city for a few days and things will be fine.” William huffs and tuns his hands around to grip Christophers even tighter, gritting his teeth slightly, a small fearful expression on his face.

“Stay at the palace at least, you’ll be more protected there than anywhere else, especially not here.”

“William there are six people who know about this home, two of which have been dead a very long time. Darling, I am more safe here than anywhere else. I understand that you wish to protect me, and I love that you wish to, but I grew up in this small place, I know I am safe here.” Christopher pats his hand gently and pulls away after a moment.

“You… I didn’t realize you lived so close to the city.” Christopher nods.

“It’s been here since before Helimire was a thought,” A soft smile spreads across his sharp features. “I come here, I have come here, for so long because I want to keep it beautiful and my home. I have protections on this area so things can’t be destroyed. I can’t lose this land, because if I do, I’ll only have one other thing of the time when I was a child, and that is Morgan.” More tears spring to his eyes and he shakes his head, wiping them away.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize it meant that much to you.” Will runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “I still need to realize that you’re older than Helimire itself.” There’s a soft chuckle from the two of them after that.

“Sometimes I do as well. It seems as more time goes on, I’m more forgetful. I sometimes forget that Morgan is the same as I am. It’s annoying to her and I feel terrible when I do forget.”

“Well I’m sure I would forget a lot if I was as old as you.” Christopher laughs, throwing his head back and putting a hand over his stomach.

“There’s a lot of stuff I remember! There’s just a lot to remember in general.” Christopher kicks him under the table a little bit, shaking his head.

“I’m sure there is.” The two of them finish up the food, eating more than probably necessary, getting stuffed and falling onto a lumpy large chair together in Christopher’s study, Christopher grabbing a random book from a pile on the floor. Boy he should really start carting some back home to his library in Helimire, and probably donate some to the actual large library in Helimire as well.

William, as soon as he’s sitting down and realizing that it’s going to be quiet for a good time, pulls out a leather bound sketchbook that is stuffed with loose papers other things, as well as a small charcoal piece that seems to have seen better days and heavy wear. He begins sketching, at first it’s the room and the furniture in it, but then moves to Christopher who seems deep in whatever book he’s reading. The text is in another language William has never seen, even though his family has a large library in the castle, and he’s been to the one in the centre of Helimire numerous times as well. This is something totally new to him, and he sees Christopher reading through it like it’s common tongue.

It shouldn’t surprise him really, the man is one of the smartest people he’s ever met in his over 30 years of life, Christopher knows things more than anyone, knows about Helimire better than anyone except for the mysterious Silaf William has only met a handful of times in the past, all through Christopher.

But he draws the man, easily and almost one to one. William has drawn the man many many times, on spare pieces of paper in meetings he’s had to go to, he had a actual portrait planned out as a gift. One like all the higher council members had, and honestly, William was surprised that Christopher didn’t have one already. Maybe he did… but it wasn’t from him.

It was already planned out, he had sketched out numerous designs and used up numerous pieces of paper and supplies, but it was ready, and the sketch was already on the canvas. He had bought some oil paints in town a few weeks before and William was ready to get started on it once he returned home, he knew he’d end up locking himself away until he finished it, making sure it was utter perfection for the man he adored so much.

William thought the man was unattainable, romantically wise. While he had never tried to ask him about, William was so dead set on the fact, too anxious to actually attempt courtship with Christopher. Although his family was supportive, Christopher’s twin even caught onto the feelings William had for her brother and adimatly tried to convince him to go for it.

Maybe one day.

It’s hours later before Christopher finally makes another move, putting down the book and stretching, a few bones in his back popping as he does so.

“If the offer is still on the table, I’d actually like it if I could stay with you William. I’d like some company while I wait things out.”

“It’s always on the table, my dove.”

The two leave the next morning, Christopher waving a hand over the front door to keep it locked so that no one could get in, no matter how much they tried. He packed up other things he knew he would need, not wanting to make the trek all the way back up after a while, he was grateful to William that he could stay with the man and his family for a while, adjusting and figuring some things out while time passed.

During the walk back to the city that took a few hours, William happily filled the silence between the two of them, talking about anything and everything he could think of at the moment. He stops at one point to pick a couple of the deep crimson flowers that sprout at the edge of the forest, saying how he know his mother would love them when she and his father returned from another city later that week.

Finally entering the city, Christopher steps closer to William, hooking his arm through William’s, his head held high as he made his way through the streets again to get to Will’s home. While he knows that the other members of the council wouldn’t be out on the streets at this time, there were informants everywhere, disguised as anyone, you couldn’t tell who was one. Christopher put on that same face, the one of stone, where he knew no one would approach unless close to him. Others, stayed away, knowing that Christopher, while a good man, was not one to mess with when he seemed angry. It was a good face to put on sometimes when it was needed.

And finally, entering the large castle that was too big for Christopher’s taste, he lets the face fall into soft admiration for the building, crafted absolutely beautiful. He looks around before speaking.

“I remember when this place was being built, that’s when I realized the city was going to be made of beautiful marble and one of the greatest cities in Astor.” He walks through the halls, following William through large hallways, admiring the white stone and gold inlays. “Shockingly, I’ve never been in it.”

“Never?” William asks, coming to a stop in front of a door, opening it to show a large studio like room, smelling of paints and other art supplies. Christopher shakes his head.

“Never. Of course I know things have changed since it was first built, but it’s still so utterly beautiful, I love it.”

William looks at the man, a soft smile on his face, mirroring the one on Christopher’s as well. He loved how the other talked about Helimire and the things in it, how he witnessed so much over so many years. How Christopher talked highly of his home and the good people in it, how he’d do anything for any of them.

“You’re so passionate, dove. I don’t know how you can do it after so long.”

“You love your art and the art of others, no matter how much time you’ve seen it, yes?” Christopher asks, taking a seat on a chair on one side of the room, William busies himself with getting out paints and a new canvas, he’s going to draw Christopher today, with the man himself modeling for him.

“Of course, I guess I didn’t think of that. You’re right…. Do you mind if I paint you?” William asks, putting up a stand and setting the canvas on it, raising an eyebrow at Christopher as he peeks out from behind the canvas.

“Right now?” Christopher asks. William nods.

“Just as you are, if you have a book to keep you company, all you have to do is sit there and be your absolutely beautiful self while I attempt to get your wonderful likeness on a canvas.”

“Such words.” Christopher laughs. “But yes, of course, I’ll sit for you darling.”

#writing #oc #original character #ocs #original characters #original writing #my writing

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michaelshelbys · 7 years

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home. JOHN SHELBY

summary: everyone knew john shelby’s kids ran a riot every second of every day, their fathers distant presence leaving them with few options to entertain themselves and keep them alive. luckily for them, that’s where you come in.

warning: swearing, usual peaky stuff

gif does not belong to me!

“Don’t you kids have a home to go to instead of raiding mine?”

They knew the words weren’t sincere. It had been days that had turned into weeks that quickly faded to months since all five of the children had found comfort in your home. It had become a routine of some sort, for each and every one of them to end up in your house at one point during the day — and it was usually around tea time, too, because the cheeky little buggers had learned far too quickly that five p.m. was the time you ate, and they had also learned that you could never resist their faces and always ended up dishing plates for them all.

So when you spoke those words for the third time that night, the eldest two of the five siblings rolled their eyes and sent each other a smirk.

“You know you love us really,” William, ever the blunt one, said, his words muffled by the next mouthful of food he had shoved into his mouth. Katie sent her brother a glare as he did so, her small nose scrunching up in disgust. You matched her expression, shifting the two year old Henry onto your other hip as you leaned over the table and poked at William’s shoulder.

“Manners, Will.” You reminded him; the response you received consisting of a mumbled apology and a careless shrug, the young boy continuing his meal soon after. You turned when you felt a tug to your skirt, spotting James who pouted up at your taller figure, his short finger pointing towards his empty ball.

“Is there any more stew left?” James was only four, and he was by far the most polite and considerate of all the siblings you cared for (after Katie, of course), and the way he spoke your name and pronounced the word ‘please’ as his childish ‘pwease’, you couldn’t deny him the offer of seconds.

“Wait! Does that mean I get to have seconds too?” Oscar’s brows furrowed, and bless his heart — he looked so offended by the fact that James was offered the choosing of seconds, and following his exclaim, Katie and William’s soon followed.

Henry was clapping excitedly, the toddler having no idea as to what was truly happening in your filled kitchen, and you smiled down at him as you began to shush the siblings. “Alright, calm down you lot, you can all get seconds as long as you settle down and promise to eat it all.”

They immediately obeyed, and the children were handed their promised seconds of your stew, and like the good kids you knew they were; they kept to their own promises, and you were left with five completely empty balls to wash and no stew left to give out.

And as you stood by your sink washing the same dishes, the children having gone home around ten minutes beforehand, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Goodness, you loved those kids; even if their father had no idea that you even existed.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

It was around seven p.m. when all five of his kids came bounding through the front door, and John Shelby frowned as they came running in, barely even noticing their father stood in the kitchen.

John took the time to gaze upon his kids, with their wide smiles and hyperactive attitude, they looked different to him — different to how they looked months before. He noticed that they had gained some weight, because even though he tried his very best to make sure his children were proper fed at all times, it was a hard task to complete with his busy schedule and their lack of interest in Polly’s dinners that he had her cook for them. So, why were they suddenly gaining weight?

John also took notice of the fact that they were coming home with noticeably less scratches and grazes than they used to, from when they would run around the streets like wild animals let loose, barefoot and barely any clothing covering them. And that they always seemed cleaner than they used to be, because God, his kids hated baths and getting clean, but they were suddenly lacking dirt and grime on their bodies and in their hair; and surely if his kids were still running around all day, they wouldn’t be so clean?

John Shelby knew something was up. And he just had to figure it out.

“Dad!” Katie was the first to notice him, and he was struck out of his thoughts when his children surrounded him, each one of them finding a part of his body to hug close to them. John laughed, trying his best to work his arms around every one of them, pressing kisses to all their heads.

They even smelled nice, he noted. Like soap and vanilla — a clean and tidy smell, on his kids, the Shelby kids; something was definitely going on.

“A'right you lot?” He smiled down at them, lifting little Henry up with ease, resting him on his side as the other four continued to chant the word 'dad’ over and over again. John rolled his eyes playfully, patting Oscar’s head as the boy wrapped himself around the right leg belonging to John. “Right, calm down. And let me sit down, will ya’s? My back is killing me with all the extra weight.”

They had backed up for near a second as he sat down on the sofa, but as soon as his ass came in contact with the soft cushions, the kids were surrounding him once more, all fighting for a seat next to their dad. It had ended up with Henry and James on both his knees, with Katie sat beside where his head lay on the back of the sofa, William leaning his body against her legs with Oscar just about sprawled over him. John chuckled as they all settled.

“Where have you’s got all this energy from, eh? Aren’t you’s tired from running 'round all day again?” He questioned, and though it may seem as though he was teasing them with their childish energy, all he really wanted to do was find out what the fuck was going on with his kids.

“Tired? What’s tired?” William giggled, leaning his head on his father’s arm as Katie played with the hair atop John’s head. John just narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in thought.

“Have you’s lot had anythin’ to eat today, then?” He tried again, and James was the one to answer, craning his neck to look at his father over his small shoulder.

“You gave us toast this morning, 'member, dad?” James tucked his lower lip out, and John cursed himself at his kids quick answers and clueless persona. If Polly were present, she would have told him that they had gotten it from himself, and John was thankful that his aunt was not present at the time being.

But then again, Aunt Polly was never afraid to get to the point with anyone; something he needed at the time. “Right, but I meant after that, are you’s hungry?”

“Stew!” Henry’s voice bellowed, and John quickly turned to his youngest — as did his other four with wide eyes.

“Stew? Did someone give ya’s stew?” John asked, trying to keep his voice steady, not wanting to make his kids fear that he would get angry at the possibility of someone caring for, his, kids.

It was silent for a moment, John looking at every one of his kids before it was broken by a sigh that flew from Katie’s mouth, and the six year old looked to her dad with a guilty expression on her youthful face.

“A'right dad, we’ll tell you. But you gotta promise you won’t get angry — we don’t want you scaring her away.”

John’s jaw clenched, and despite his better judgement, he agreed. It was clear as day that his kids cared for this unknown 'she’, and he hated to admit that it seemed like this 'she’ cared for his kids too.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

The last thing you expected to wake up to was John Shelby at your door.

It was around nine in the morning, you had already been awake for an hour, busying yourself with tasks such as cleaning around the house and reading a book that you had found laying around; no doubt from the many exploring’s that the Shelby’s had made around your home. It had started out as a fairly regular morning, all until John fucking Shelby of all people knocked on your front door.

“Hi,” the speech was simple, and you had no idea why your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of it. Though you had encountered his children many times, you had never met John. The caring for his kids had remained unknown to him, but you supposed that was all over. Because why else would John Shelby end up at your doorstep at nine in the morning?

Fuck, you were screwed. You should have known better than to get involved with a Peaky Blinder’s kids.

(But that could never change the fact that you still loved those damned kids with all your heart.)

“Um, hello.” You said, and almost cringed at the sound of your own voice. John Shelby was always spoke about around town, the young man with all the kids, the man who lost his childhood sweetheart and first wife far too soon, the youngest well-known Shelby brother after Arthur and Tommy Shelby. And it may have sounded completely inappropriate, but John Shelby was also very bloody handsome; especially so up close, because he was, in fact, very close to your face as he looked down at you.

“I assume you know who I am.”

“Of course,” you answered quickly, probably too quickly, and you held your breath as he narrowed his blue eyes, brows furrowing. You were beginning to feel hot under his intense gaze, and you wished that he would just look away from you for a moment so you could let out the breath you were aggressively holding in.

“Then I assume you know why I’m here.” He spoke again, his words careful and slow, deliberate and knowing.

And that’s when you burst.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for getting involved in your kids life, especially without your permission, and I know that it was wrong and I should have come straight to you when they started coming to my house and talking to me, and I know I should have probably stopped them from welcoming themselves into my home — but, damnit, I love those kids. They’re amazing, and they’re smart, and I hate how people overlook that because they’re your kids. And I know you’re most likely never gonna let me see them again, and I understand that, but I just want you to know that I never did anything but care for those kids, and I looked after them when they needed it, and I know you’re capable of all that too and I’m not trying to say you’re not; but, it’s just, I love your kids, John. I care for them, no matter how ridiculous it may sound. They’ve become almost like my family, and I just want you to know that you’ve done an amazing job in raising them so far, even if you don’t think so yourself.”

“— Thank you.” John Shelby was stunned, completely and utterly. He blinked down at you, breathing heavily from your sudden speech as you looked to him in confusion.

“Wait, what? You’re not shouting at me and telling me to stay away from your kids?”

John laughed, no matter how crazy it sounded. He shook his head, smirking at the expression on your face. “I said, thank you. I don’t hear that I raise my kids well often, it’s always the opposite, actually. Not that I blame anyone, I hardly have any control over them and I just let them run a mock around the streets half the time. But, things have just been hard since Martha died, ya know? I just feel like I can’t do it on my own. And I probably can’t, since it took almost a complete stranger to make my own kids behave and settle down a bit.”

You frowned at his tone of voice, and without really thinking, you grabbed hold of his hands with your own and looked him right in his blue eyes. “Ey, don’t say stuff like that. I know you’re a good dad, those kids — they love you more than anything in the world. All they ever talk about is you, Will’s always going on about how he wants to be just like his dad, and Katie’s always saying that she’ll never get a boyfriend because her dad loves her too much for her to get one. They love you, Mr Shelby. And if anything, they only act so wild sometimes because they miss you.”

“Miss me?” John repeated.

“Well, you work a lot, don’t you? With your brothers and stuff, I mean. I think the only reason the kids do some things is to get your attention, ya know? Like running around barefoot, that’s gotta get your attention, right? That’s all they want, I’m sure.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. John looked to his shoes, no longer having the guts to raise his eyes to yours. You were right, he realised. He was barely around, he threw himself into his work, and it had become so much of a problem that his own kids were running wild just to get his attention on them for a matter of minutes. “I’m a fucking terrible dad, ain’t I?”

“What? No! You’re a brilliant dad, John. You just gotta let yourself realise that.” Your voice was so sincere and soft, warm with honey and covered in sugar that he couldn’t resist the urge to look at you once again.

He realised how pretty you were, how the colour of your eyes made him want to smile and how your own smile brought a dose of happiness throughout him, and how you were such an amazing person, with equally amazing beauty that could stun him into silence.

John smiled, slow, but sure. “Thank you, love. You may not have realised it, but you helped a lot with the kids. And you just helped me a lot too, like — I really fucking owe you one.”

You seemed to realise you were squeezing his hands when he squeezed yours after that, and your eyes widened as you quickly pulled your own from his, awkwardly clearing your throat as you wiped the sweat that was forming on your palms onto your clothing, trying to ignore the fact that John Shelby was looking down at you with an amused smirk that seemed effortlessly sexy.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr Shelby. Really, it’s been an honour to look after your kids. You don’t have to worry about owing me anything.”

John was shaking his head before you even finished your sentence. “No, really, I wanna do something for you. Are ya doin’ anything tonight?”

“Um,” you really couldn’t think of an excuse, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted an excuse to get out of whatever John Shelby had planned. “No, I’m not doing anything tonight.”

“Good,” John smiled, teeth and all. It was a beautiful sight, and it was a sight you wanted to see much more of in the future. “So you won’t mind a drink with me down at the Garrison, then? My treat.”

You couldn’t help but smile right back at him, because though you knew it was probably best to stay out of the way of the Shelby’s (meaning no drinks with John Shelby), you couldn’t resist the temptation the offer brought. And after all, you had already began caring for his children. What harm would a simple drink do?

“I wouldn’t mind that at all, Mr Shelby.”

He grinned.

“Just call me John, love.”

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things-with-teeth · 7 years

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Hi! Okay, SO, the goats.

For someone who is a certified City Girl, I have spent a truly unlikely and borderline distressing amount of time living in the countryside, or in the woods, or in some terrifying mix of the two. I really have no actual objection to fresh air and green shit, but friends, there are so many spiders. The other living thing which such places tend to have in abundance are animals, namely animals of the farm variety. Sometimes, like when I was in Arizona, this meant actual farms with actual farm animals, and somewhere in there is the explanation for how I managed to spend several years shoveling horse poop on weekends in my teens while successfully dodging putting my tender, breakable body on top of a horse until I was in my twenties. (Look, chivalry was actually like 2% about how to treat the ladies and 98% about how not to kill people with your horse, and I know myself, I know my limits, and I have no desire to be unchivalrous, especially since the person most likely to die in any scenario involving a horse is me.)

In my current circumstances, “livestock” is a cunning misnomer for “outdoor pets,” because my landlord has a couple of acres of land and two children. In the ten years I’ve lived here, there have been:

Roughly two hundred dogs. I lost count at a certain point, but dogs are nice.

An Equal Number Of Cats, all of whom are technically indoor animals and none of whom got the memo.

Two ponies that think they are Big Dogs.

Small Dinosaurs, aka chickens.

A small and sweet chicken made of floof, too good and pure for this world, the only chicken without murder in its tiny bird heart, the only chicken I have ever loved.

The Antichrist Is A Bird (…the rooster.)

A turkey????

????a llama?????? I feel like there was a llama at one point, or maybe an alpaca, but honestly that might have been a fever dream.

Goats.

I actually really love the goats, but there are a few VERY IMPORTANT THINGS which one must remember about goats.

Goats are very clever.

Like, seriously, I have never met a paddock that can successfully, indefinitely hold a goat.

I have legitimately lost track of the number of times I have walked out on my second story, gated porch only to have a goat make significant eye contact with me before pooping everywhere and/or trying to eat my cigarette butts.

Clever does not mean blessed with great foresight.

i.e., the paddock is where the food is and the local predators aren’t.

i.e., just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

At some point during my first couple years living here, my landlord mentioned that their goats had gone missing, and asked that I keep an eye out.

“All of them?” I asked.

“All of them.”

“Huh,” I said, and in retrospect, this should have been my first clue that the goats were not to be meddled with. I can barely muster the strength to crawl out of bed in the morning, they were staging daring midnight escapes in which No Goat Was Left Behind, the goats were clearly out of my league.

A week or so later, I was driving home around sunset when I spotted something by the side of the road about half a mile from the house. Short deer? Alarmingly large raccoons? Confused Sasquatch? No. Goats. Almost definitely my landlord’s goats, just standing there, chilling at the side of the road.

It was then that I made my first tactical error. In my defense, I’m pretty sure that I was in the middle of finals at the time, and therefore incapable of remembering how anything in life other than the coffee pot worked. Had that not been the case, it probably would have occurred to me that the best course of action was to get out of the car and phone my landlord while keeping an eye on the goats, and not do something silly like, say, drive home to tell him they had been spotted, operating under the deeply flawed assumption that the goats, who had already disappeared into the night once when there was a fence to stop them, would not, in fact, move in the time it took me to go home and collect my landlord and landlady.

Needless to say, the goats were no longer by the side of the road when we returned.

My second tactical error was probably feeling guilty enough about my earlier lapse in judgement that I volunteered to stick around and help, which ultimately became the story of how I ended up alone in a ravine at eleven o’clock in the evening, shaking a mostly empty canister of stove-top oatmeal and yelling ridiculous goat names into the night.

(Thinking back, I don’t know if the goats were ever fed the oatmeal? It seems kind of unlikely, but then again, if there’s one thing I trust in this world, it’s a goat’s ability to figure out and/or assume that something is food, whether it actually is or not, and act accordingly. The oatmeal was probably a sound strategy.)

We had spent literal hours running around after the goats at that point. Sometimes one of us would spot a goat, only to have it evaporate into the all-encompassing shadows like a dream, or a ghost, or a confused Sasquatch. It was very dark, and very cold, and I was at that point feeling very much like That One Girl In The First Five Minutes Of A Horror Movie. I was walking through the woods in deeply inappropriate footwear at almost midnight, looking for a lost pet, and this was clearly not going to end well for me.

If you were wondering, cannibals seemed like the most likely scenario. Like, werewolves, maybe, if I was lucky, but realistically, cannibals.

The goats would probably have eaten what was left of me once the cannibals were done. Traitors.

You can imagine about what my reaction was when two dudes in a pickup pulled up next to me as I walked along the side of the (dark, abandoned, completely devoid of streetlamps) road.

“Hey,” one of them said. “Hey.”

I considered running for the woods, but see above re: impractical footwear, and also I am a smoker and my lung capacity is not the best. I decided that if I was going to die, cooked into a stew by cannibals, as now seemed to be inevitable, I would die as I had lived: never having felt sufficiently motivated to move faster than a slow jog.

“Are you looking for some goats? They’re walking along the side of the road down the hill.”

I thanked the nice not-cannibals and went down the hill, where the goats were chewing placidly at the delicious side-of-the-road grass and very much acting like they hadn’t spent the last several hours playing hide-and-go-fuck-yourself in the woods. “Who, us????” they seemed to ask. “You must be thinking of some other goats?? We have been here the whole time, innocently gnawing on grass???????? Like goats do?”

I had learned my lesson. I stood with the goats and bellowed until someone came sprinting to my aid, as they would not have done had I been set upon by cannibals instead of finding their lost livestock.

“Oh, R, she was such a nice girl,” they would have said later. “So brave, sacrificing her young body to those cannibals so that our goats might live. Alas.”

We got the goats bundled into the truck and drove home, which is when I made my third tactical error, which was staying in the truck with the last remaining baby goat, to like, keep him company or something, so he wouldn’t be lonely, I do not fucking know, it makes no sense, I did this to myself and I am aware that everything that happened afterward was a direct result of my own hideously poor judgement.

Some important things to note:

While my landlord’s kids were by then in their early teens, the truck still had child locks on it.

Being in his early teens, my landlord’s son did not have keys to the truck.

My landlady had locked the truck before they had taken the rest of the goats down to the paddock, presumably so that I would not become That One Girl In The Last Five Minutes Of A Horror Movie, who thinks that she’s safely home only for surprise!cannibals to come ‘round to set up the hook for the sequel.

My landlord’s son came around to collect the final goat. He pulled on the door handle. I pulled on the door handle. The door did not open, but the car alarm did start going off.

The goat, very understandably, started screaming. The goat remembered that there was actually another living thing trapped inside the noise box for it to scream at, turned to me, screamed some more, and then made significant eye contact immediately before peeing on me, and the truck, and the world.

When my landlady finally returned and released me from my loud and urine-soaked prison, I may have looked at her and asked, very seriously, “Have you considered animal sacrifice as a lifestyle choice?” I might have. Maybe. I don’t remember.

The goat was fine. I was forever changed, and also needed to change, because there was goat pee on my clothing. The end.

#goats #long post #sorry i really do not love chickens #i support you if you do #go shower those small dinosaurs with all the love and affection i cannot offer them #farm life #i am ill equipped to live in even the psuedo-countryside #writing #ehonauta #slinkyinky

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villainsarebetter · 7 years

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Parent Fic: (Drider AU) Poor spinner Rumple’s journey home is going to take much longer than he’d planned after he stumbles into Belle’s trap. Belle, on the other hand, is quite pleased with her catch - she’s never seen a human up close before.

This Prompt Fill: Belle spies on her human and attempts to make amends.

Prompt: @iambicdearie: Drider!Belle tries to apologize :D, @Anonymous: Rumple to thank Belle, leave her his finest thread (or something made out of it). Belle is surprised to find out that her human is capable of making such incredible "web". [maybe she can even see, from the very edge of her territory, their little hut]

Despite Belle’s decision to let her human go back to his own kind, she found that she missed his presence almost as soon as he was out of sight. Driders were usually solitary creatures, but she’d grown fond of his company over the last fortnight and now her home-nest felt far too empty.

Setting him free had been for the best, she knew. He had not wanted to live with her and she did not want to make him miserable by keeping him from his child, mate, and pack. However, the night after she released him, she found herself straying away from her normal hunting routes, following the trail of scuffed dirt and broken grass that the two humans had left in their wake when they fled. It was no mystery where they were going; there was a human settlement not far from the border of her territory. When she’d first decided to hunt two-legged prey, she’d scoped it out as thoroughly as she could without crossing the border, just as she’d done with the road close to where she’d captured her human.

It was a long time before she caught a glimpse of him since he did not emerge at night and she rarely went out during the day, but eventually she saw him standing in the doorway of one of the dwellings on the very edge of the settlement. Her heart jumped in her chest at the sight of him, a thrill that got caught up in her hunting instincts. She itched to catch him again, bind him with her silk and draw him back to her, run her claws over his face and through his hair, and listen to his quiet barks and yelps even as she responded with her own clicks and hisses. They could not understand each other, but she could pretend that they did.

It was easy enough to suppress the instinct; the human was far enough away that it would take a concerted effort for Belle to even get near him, let alone catch him. But Belle still watched him with unfulfilled longing for the few moments that he was outside. She watched him standing slumped over in the doorway holding his walking stick in front of him like a shield and watching the world with wary eyes, a position of fear and submission. He rarely raised his head from its downcast set and the only sign of real happiness or animation she saw from him was when his child approached.

At first, the drider thought that maybe his unhappiness was temporary. She even considered that maybe he’d had second thoughts about leaving her and was unhappy about his choice – but he didn’t improve the next time she saw him. Or the next. Or any time after that.

That was when she started to wonder if it was her fault. Had she damaged him in some way? Changed him? She’d tried to be gentle and keep him well-fed and cared for while she had him – what if she’d done something wrong?

It seemed obvious to her that his circumstances had to be a result of her actions. Surely he’d been happy beforehand. Why else would he have tried so very hard to get away?

If it was her fault, what could she do to make him happy again?

She watched, worried, and wondered. Her options were limited since she couldn’t actually approach him – she wouldn’t fit in his nest, even if he decided to welcome her, so anything personal was not feasible. She could spin silk for him, but he’d never seemed very interested or impressed by the webs in her nest – if anything, he’d seemed frightened by them. However, she did not have anything else to give.

It was as she was watching the village one evening, waiting for her human to emerge as he sometimes did when his child came home with the advent of nightfall, when an idea struck her. Her human had always looked unhealthily skinny to her, but she’d assumed that was just the nature of the species when he hadn’t seemed sick or died. Now, looking at the other humans bustling around and shutting themselves inside of their wooden nests, she noticed that they were all considerably wider around the waist than hers. They all seemed happier, too.

Perhaps, if hunger was the issue, she could hunt for him?

The next night she forewent her own hunting to catch a small four-legged prey, a rabbit, and made sure to kill it cleanly without biting it (experience had taught her that her human could not ingest any food containing her venom – he’d nearly died the only time she tried to feed him meat she’d killed in such a fashion) and then removing every trace of webbing (experience had also taught her that he could not get through her silk no matter how hard he tried). Then, in the small hours of the night, she snuck into the village, a massive eight-legged shadow that did not cause a panic only because there was no one around to see her.

The village slept on as she laid her offering in front of her human’s doorway and then returned to her territory.

Rumpelstiltskin discovered the rabbit when he tripped over it and almost broke his neck. He was always one of the first men awake in the village so that he could gather water and daily necessities before the others emerged to scorn and bully him and so that he could get an early start on spinning to make the most of the day.

The light was only just teasing the horizon when he stumbled outside, leaning heavily on his staff and stifling his yawns with his unoccupied hand. He nearly pitched forward on his face when his stick got caught on the furry body.

At first, he thought it was a joke. There was a band of young teenagers who were just reaching the age where they understood that Rumpelstiltskin was a victim and a target rather than an adult to be obeyed – their parents had made sure they internalized that message. Rumple had already dealt with a handful of pranks and he worried that they were getting more dangerous as the children got older – it wouldn’t be out of character for them to set a bundle of worn out furs on his step just to make him fall.

But there were no laughs and jeers, no pointing children that scurried away when he scolded them.

And then he realized it wasn’t a bundle of furs at all. It was a rabbit. A plump, un-butchered rabbit with enough meat on its bones to keep him and Bae fed for at least three days – a valuable, unexpected bounty.

He hastily squirreled it away inside the door before anyone could notice and take it away from him, and then moved on to gather water from the well, wondering all the while who would give him a rabbit like that.

Charity?

Not likely. Not for the village coward.

But if not charity, they what?

It was as he was skinning the rabbit that he found his answer. The spider-woman had meticulously removed all of her webbing, but there was a slight adhesive quality left behind on the rabbit’s fur that caught at his hands. He was well used to it since he’d been wrapped up in her webs more than once and had spent hours trying to scrub the residue from his skin. He’d only ever encountered such a sensation with her webs, and there were no other spider-folk that might look kindly on Rumpelstiltskin and his son.

It worried him that she was still interested in him. In fact, if she knew where he lived, she had to be actively watching him. However, the meat was sorely needed and Rumple could not reject it, not if it would keep his son’s belly full for even a short while. Bae’s snares might catch a couple squirrels once a week or so and the other villagers were more likely to sneer at him and kick his staff away if he dared to try to buy meat from one of them. He could buy some at the market, marked up at least double, but that only came once a week (or once a month, when there weren’t enough people around). The only other option was to travel to a larger village to buy meat, but that ate up precious working hours. For the most part, he and Bae made due on a few bites of squirrel meat, grain, and semi-fresh vegetables.

That morning, he was able to make a quick rabbit stew and Bae woke up to the heady smell of cooking meat. The look of excitement on his face was enough to convince Rumpelstiltskin that he’d made the right decision.

And when another rabbit was delivered to his doorstep three days later, he began to wonder if he could pay the spider-woman back somehow.

Belle found the package when she came to the edge of her territory to watch for her human one night, as had become her habit when she was in the area at twilight. It was a small bundle of familiar fur tucked behind a bush a little beyond her territory. Since she knew that the fur had been in her human’s possession, she was dreadfully curious and barely even waited until nightfall before she crept over and unwrapped it.

Inside was a cream-colored doubled over twist of…silk?

No, not quite silk. Or not real silk anyway. It was the same sort of substance that made up the humans’ clothing. She unwrapped the end of the strand curiously and studied it, investigating the weave and strength with the pads of her fingers. It was actually quite fascinating; soft rather than sticky, and surprisingly strong and durable for all that it couldn’t stretch like a sheet of silk. She could break it, but she didn’t think it would deteriorate the way her webs would if left alone too long. It was also a much more pleasing color; cream rather than sickly white.

Was it a gift? A thank you?

Whatever her human had intended, it was a thoughtful gesture and it indicated that he did not actually hate her. Its very presence reminded her of him and she happily ran it through her hands, winding it around one wrist and deciding she would find some way to use it as a decoration or turn it into a covering of her own, like the humans wore. Perhaps she could weave it into a circle for her neck the way she’d seen human females don pretty metal and stones.

With a quiet hum and a light heart, Belle set out to find another rabbit to leave outside her human’s nest.

#Rumbelle fic #Monster Month #creature!fic #creature!Belle #drider AU

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