#horses tea arrivals and books all in three posts?
Text
A Bounty of Sweets
PinkHairCrookedTeeth
Summary:
A collection of Sebaciel one-shots! I am taking requests and suggestions so tell me what you would like to see and i'll try and write something for you. Hope you enjoy!
Notes:
Hey guys! This first one was originally a head-cannon I posted on my tumblr account so I decided to make into my first entry for this series. Ok! Here we go! I hope you enjoy it!
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1: A Pleasent Accident
Summary:
Ciel had been in his office all day and it was an honest fumble.
Chapter Text
Ciel has been holed up in his office almost all day and his body was feeling the ache of sitting for so long. Momentarily glancing outside his window he absentmindedly toyed with the ribbon around his neck. When he saw Finny outside the window mindlessly trip over and break a potted plant he breathed out a chuckle, thankful for the happy distraction as he rested his head on the desk and sighed. Almost as if on queue he heard a rap on the door and the rolling of wheels as a tea cart was lead in.
"Took you long enough" breathed Ciel monotonously.
Sebastian took the weak insult in stride as he glanced at his bored, stiff, and exhausted Earl.
"Forgive me master," the Butler remarked "today we have Jasmine tea to refresh your tired mind and a fresh Bran Muffin." Sebastian placed his masters plate on the desk avoiding documents, and the stray locks of hair, as Ciel's figure was still slumped on the desk.
"Also a letter from the queen has arrived for you as well". Ciel simply held his hand out and his butler obediently placed the letter there. As Ciel ripped it open Sebastian tried to hold back a chuckle when he spotted the red sleep mark on his master's forehead.
"What are you smiling about, demon?" Ciel hissed.
"Nothing of importance master" he skirted around the issue and moved to pour another cup of tea.
Ciel scanned the letter and the fog of his mind cleared as he read the queen's neat handwriting. After a warm introduction, mentioning a new horse and the well-fair of her children, the more important topic arose. Supposedly a series of attacks on American immigrants has left four men dead and three women missing just on the south end of London. Usually the Yard would take care of this but he soon learned a noble woman has been kidnapped and the perpetrator is suspected to be forcibly selling to the prostitution ring. The Earl realized this would require a days trip at least away from his manor.
Reaching out he, searched for his butler's coat-tail to grab his attention and found empty air. Reaching farther and still scanning the letter his hand caught warm flesh wrapped in cotton.
Ciel immediately froze and felt his face blush furiously.
The letter forgotten he turned his head almost in slow motion.
Sebastian had previously been tidying up the Earl's small book-shelf behind his desk when Ciel abruptly gripped his butt with a surprisingly sturdy grip.
For a moment, both of them were to startled to speak before a vexatious grin spread across the demon's face.
"Well young master, you could have told me you wanted something sweet for your afternoon snack."
Ciel sputtered and instantly ripped his hand from his butler's person.
He didn't think his face could blush any farther but apparently it could; for when Sebastian stood and turned Ciel couldn't find it in himself to spit a reply.
"If that is all..." Ciel mumbled.
"Actually," Sebastian smiled, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his master attempting to hide his blush behind a paper. "I also would like to inform you that tonight we are expecting our fist summer rain so the washing will have to be dried by alternative methods; either by the warmth of fire or letting them stand in a spare room."
"Fine" Ciel spat, well aware this information was not important to him at all.
With a small nod Sebastian turned to the dishes before his Earl and smugly grinned as he went about his duties.
Stubbornly fixated on the already signed paper in front of his face he glanced at his butler to see him taking his cup and plate to the tea trolley.
Longing for distance Ciel stood to retrieve a file on a stand beside the door with the letter stuffed in his pocket he absently heard the stepping of shoes behind him. Remembering the letter he turned to his butler.
"Sebastian go over this letter and make preparations for our departure. We will require a carriage and the like for the case we've been assigned."
"Yes mast-"
Again they both froze as Ciel's hand brushes across his butlers crotch in an attempt to hand over the letter in question.
A breath of amused exasperation left the butler's curling lips.
"My my young master impatient today are we?"
A spike of anger shot through Ciel at the snide comment.
"Get Out!" the Earl screeched as he attempted to hit his butler with the file he held.
Simply avoiding the strikes from his master he chuckled darkly as he left the room and Ciel stalked to his desk menacingly.
-
Walking down the hall Sebastian could only grin at the thought of his master blushing so adoringly and grabbing so mischievously. A small laugh left his lips as he imagined all the other things that could make his master blush...
_
Seated at his desk the small Earl tried to push thoughts from his head that kept nagging before his work. The direct grab at warm, firm flesh, and the brush of a hand that felt like nothing he had ever felt before. And the siz-
"Ugh! This is non-sense!" Ciel shook his head and did everything in his power to keep from thinking of his butler and all his...parts.
Before long he retreaded to the wash room to take care of a whole different type of business.
Chapter 2: That Looks Good On You
Summary:
Ciel Phantomhive steals something of Sebastian's but the butler actually doesn't seem to mind.
Notes:
Hey everyone! Thank you for continuing to read my one-shots! Much appreciated! This next one was a prompt I found on tumblr that you can find here: http://amandaonwriting.tumblr.com/ This one-shot takes place well after Ciel turns 16 and a romantic (and sexual he-he!) relationship of sorts is already established between him and Bassy! I hope you enjoy and give me suggestions and prompts as well! Remember these are one-shots and in no way related to one(another besides characters and the obvious stuff of course).
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The impulse was too strong, it was almost as if Ciel's fingers were itching. As the Earl lay on Sebastian's bed, staring at the dresser he fought with himself over the matter of stealing a shirt of his butlers.
On one hand, it was a childish thing to do and if Sebastian found out (which Ciel thought he most certainly would) he would never let his Master hear the end of it.
On another hand, he certainly thought he could get away with it. Sebastian had left to begin his early morning butler duties and would not come to wake Ciel for at least another hour or so. What could the repercussions be if he never found out? Ciel thought. Deciding it was idiocy, and that staring at the damn dresser would do him no good, Ciel decided to leave the room, even if he didn't want to. The bed was warm and smelled like home, a mix cotton and rain with a hint of ash from the fire place.
Pausing to collect his night-shirt, folded neatly where it had once been strewn carelessly, he wondered if Sebastian enjoyed the odd bond formed between them. It was clear he anticipated his future meal with quiet, building excitement, but what they have now is a whole other matter. The lines between servant and Master had been blurred so much even Ciel didn't want to dwell on the matter.
Once clothed in a night shirt and nothing more he reached for the handle of the door, and his fingers itched again. Glancing at the wardrobe he made his decision. Swiping the soft material he thanked his lucky star no one caught him slip into his room with the white cotton clenched between his fingers.
-
Sebastian knew immediately when Ciel woke up and started heading to his room. The smell of himself clinging to the young Lords' skin was also evident, a grin made it's way onto his face at that revelation.
While preparing for his Masters morning tea and gathering the mail, the estate came to life under the butlers deft fingers. Mey-rin opened windows and Finny's off-key singing could be heard from the kitchen while he tended to the garden. Bard had been making bread and the smell wafted through the halls delightfully as he found himself echoing Finny's words. Tanaka sat, content as ever, sipping his tea and gazing out a window happily.
"Bard, make sure the bread doesn't burn, I will only be a minute so that much will be appreciated." Sebastian smiled as he rolled the tea cart out of the kitchen and with satisfaction heard the ready reply of "You got it boss! I'll show you I can get this much done for the Master!"
-
There was something amiss, Sebastian was sure of it, he frowned as he walked in the room the tea cart making little to no noise. A smile easily replaced the scowl as he saw Ciel dozing in the bed; he truly was adorable in sleep. Sebastian only spared a moment to scan his Masters figure when it hit him, the smell. Turning to the bureau his smiled dripped with venom. Pulling out his own shirt from the dresser he marveled at the kid's guts.
Putting the shirt back where he found it Sebastian turned a raised eyebrow to his sleeping Master and chuckled before pulling back the thick drapes.
"My Lord, it is time to wake up." Sebastian declared, as he held Ciel's hand to pull his tired body up.
"Pfft." Ciel breathed annoyed that he had to get up, but soon contented with his Butler's knuckle running across his cheek, and those eyes looking fondly down at him.
"We should get you up" Sebastian murmured softly.
"Should." Ciel hummed as he pulled the demon by his tie so their lips could meet.
The next second there was a cup of tea in front of Ciel instead of his demon's lips and a newspaper with his mail tucked in a fold.
"Today we have Mexican Green Herbal tea and a few letters of little importance have arrived, nothing from the Queen today Master."
"Hmph." was all the reaction he got as the Butler smugly smiled and turned to pick out the Earl's clothes for today.
_
When it came time to dress the Earl, Sebastian's grin dripped with venom once again.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Oh nothing Master." Sebastian smiled as he lifted the arms of the boys night-shirt, and softly kissed his now exposed arms, trailing up to his neck, where Ciel shivered.
The attention was shifted to his Masters' cheeks, gently teasing him and running his hands down his ribs and back soothingly. Ciel shifted to wrap his arms around the neck of his butler, when the demon kissed the corners of his lips, and the bridge of his small nose. Their eyes met and once again Ciel saw those eyes, over amused and threatening.
"Lift your arms, Master." Sebastian breathed quietly.
Ciel complied easily and Sebastian slipped the crisp white shirt on his small frame, and Ciel's eyes widened in realization, and his cheeks were dusted an adorable red color.
"Oh Master that does looks good on you." he growled slyly.
Ciel was shocked and more than a little embarrassed, I knew I would get caught he thought absently.
Ciel was pushed gently on his back as Sebastian began to mark up his exposed collar-bones. The young Earl closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through the others hair, playing with the strands at the back of Sebastian's neck. Unconsciously, the younger of the two spread his legs the smallest amount, and the demon had to suppress a laugh at his eagerness. Ciel felt his legs being nudged apart by the butler's knee and rub between his legs,making him gasp loudly. Sebastian's lips then moved to Ciel's neck and the boy reached up to tug at the buttons of the tail-coat.
I should make a habit of kleptomania Ciel thought as he felt the hem of the shirt was pushed up to bunch around his waist.
When Sebastian's hand grasped his hard member Ciel faintly registered the smell of cotton, rain, and ash.
-
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to drop a suggestion/prompt so i can write more for you! See you next time!
Chapter 3: Blush
Summary:
Sebastian makes Ciel blush
Notes:
Super short fluff to rot your teeth! Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ciel Phantomhive had been in his office for a few hours, working diligently on his paperwork, eager to get it done. Only a few more papers to be signed and a proposal to look over and he would be done. To be honest the Earl didn't mind the work to much, he was most contented knowing his business was well taken care of.
The light from a window slanted perfectly across his desk, bathing it in sunlight making the boy work all the more diligently knowing how close he was to finally finishing his work. This particular pile had been sitting on his desk for days, it came from a foreign branch that had difficulty shipping and the whole mess had been a huge burden on the Earl's mind, and his butler knew that.
The rapping on the door made him look up briefly when garnet eyes met his.
"Master, I believe a break would be best, you've been working all day"
"Just a few more papers Sebastian," he said as the demon trailed a hand across the masters shoulders. "I should be done within the next hour".
Sebastian chuckled.
"That would be four straight hours of work Master," he argued and pressed his lips to Ciels cheek.
"Damn horny, demon" Ciel mumbled blushing, he continued to write his response to the proposal.
Sebastian only grinned as he moved his lips to Ciel's neck, he found it endlessly amusing to see the Earl squirm.
"Don't you have a cake to bake or something?" the younger asked, annoyed.
"If you want something to eat just take a break with me Master." Sebastian earned a hard smack to his chest for that one.
"I only have a little bit more to do surely you can wait, you're like a horny dog."
The butler smirked, and stood behind the chair to wrap his hands around his young Lord and lick the shell of his ear.
"Do you really think that, my Lord?" he whispered, voice laced with teasing poison, taunting Ciel to take a bite.
"Actually I do," Ciel said unphased, and irked. He sighed heavily at the attention, at another time it would be well received but getting him randy now was just a low blow. Sebastian was teasing him and they both knew it.
Running his hand up Ciel's shirt, and nipping at his jaw Sebastian had the boy frozen at his desk and shivering.
"Go dust a vase or something." Ciel groaned, knowing it wasn't a direct order Sebastian continued with a knowing smirk .
"I will kill you" Those lips moved to the corner of the Earl's mouth.
"Bastard" large hands began teasing the inside of his clothed thighs.
"Dammit let me finish this one paper." thier lips met and Ciel's breath was stolen.
"You are insufferable!" With an annoyed frown, he kissed back and Sebastian was smugly smirking.
"Such foul language you commit to your lover Ciel," a whispered voice floated through him, making the younger male break out in goose bumps. "maybe I should punish you." The predatory gleam in his butler's eyes had the younger basically ripping at the tie and buttons of his lover's annoyingly conservative attire.
"Oh but you have wanted to finish these files, perhaps I will leave you b-"
Ciel's lips crashed into the latter's as he lead the man's large hand to his own arousal.
"We both know you won't do that." In that moment Sebastian's eyes burned and Ciel's heart raced when he found himself flung over the other's shoulder as he was lead to his bedroom kicking and screaming.
"Put me down you bastard!" Sebastian only grinned as he calmly led his lover to their now shared bed, easily quieting him with a slap to the ass.
"Don't fret young Master, I will ensure wasting your precious time will be worth your inconvenience.
Ciel hated how much he anticipated this as his butler threw him on his bed gently and kicked the door closed. When he tugged his gloves off and kissed the boys lips Ciel reminded himself to take "breaks" more often.
Notes:
Aww Ciel is an cute little ball of angry adorableness! And Sebastian is a teasing lil' shit.
Chapter 4: Buy Me Cake Goddammit
Summary:
Acting! AU where the actors' Ciel and Sebastian decide to grab a coffee during their break
Notes:
So here is my first modern!AU, centering on the "actors" who play the characters from Yana's manga (whoallhappentohavethesamenameasthecharacterthierplayingwhataconicidencedon'tyathink?notsuspciousatall) Also it show- cases jealous Sebby, hand holding, coffee, playful teasing and allusions to other fanfics, plus a link to said fanfic! Hope you enjoy! BTW the scene they are re-enacting in the beginning of my fic is the last line in chapter 37 of the manga, and of course we're all not sure if this will be included in the actual season of the anime, but let's just roll with it because its a really good scene and I kinda love Miss Nina ok? ok.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Goodnight, Ciel."
"And Cut! Great job guys." The voice of the director boomed out, and everyone dropped character. The ending to this scene was finally done and everyone was proud of the new season already, silently agreeing that it was their best work yet. The depth each individual developed this season was truly a sight to behold, one could only hope the fans' would agree. While everyone was walking toward dressing rooms and makeup trailers, Sebastian noticed the main lead had yet to move.
"Oh really, now?" the man mused out loud. Ciel was slumped in the prop chair, actually asleep, no hint of tom-foolery in his dozing face. No way was he gonna let this golden opportunity slide. The phone was half-way out his pocked when the voices' of other actors arose Ciel.
"What the hell do you think your doing?" The boy seethed at the sight of the phone, and Sebastian chuckled, amused.
"Damn, I really thought I had you this time, Master." Sebastian only called him that to aggravate the young star.
"I wouldn't want to kill you, but if you ever think of pulling that shit again I might have to." Ciel quipped heading to change out of his costume.
"Oh I doubt it. You couldn't if you wanted to, your much to delicate for that." The latter teased, then promptly shut the door of his changing room in Ciel's face.
"Hmph!" He'd never admit to it, but he hated it when he didn't have the last word. Especially in an argument with his closest friend.
-
"You look worn out my dear." Lindsey, one of the costume designer's commented gently.
"I kind of am." Ciel sighed as he stretched, and reached for his own clothes after changing from the stuffy Victorian costumes. "This non-stop filming has driven me up the wall!"
"Hey, well your break is now, the next scene will take at least an hour and half to finish," She said as she assessed to the various costumes all around them. " you should go grab a coffee before your part. We don't want our lead fainting in the middle of filming, do we?" she smiled sweetly.
"That's a good idea. Maybe I'll head to that local place a block away, don't they sell books too?" he mused, more to himself than anyone.
"You should take Sebastian. He's always askin' you to go out with him huh?" the mischief in her eyes made him smile.
"Did he set you up to this? Ever since auditions the bugger has been trying to get in my pants." he said fondly.
"No," Lindsey's brown eyes sparkled, "but the two of you are friends and you don't wanna go alone do ya?"
"Guess not. Maybe I can worm my way out of paying too." he chuckled as he stepped into his black slacks.
_
"Hey Frankenstein," Ciel called when he spotted his co-star checking his phone, finally in his usual clothes. "Come grab a coffee with me."
Sebastian smirked.
"Are you asking me out? Finally, I thought it would be a bit more elegant, or sexy than coffee, but-"
"In your dreams pervert." Ciel grinned. "I'm only taking you for crowd control."
"Hey, I'm only six years older than you, and you are nineteen. Even though you sometimes act like a thirteen year old." the older male commented as they walked toward the exit.
"Doesn't change the fact that your paying." Ciel laughed as he shrugged on his coat and his friend did the same.
"Last time you made me pay when we went out, you ate so many macaroons I had to drag you home."
"I thought we agreed never to talk about that!" Ciel reminded him sharply, and it was Sebastian's turn to laugh as he held open the back door for both of them.
Their bickering, and teasing could be heard as they headed out, much to the amusement of everyone on set.
"God, they need to bone each other already." Soma dead-panned making everyone around him snicker.
-
"Your really burnt out." it wasn't a question but Ciel answered anyway.
"Is it that obvious?" the boy sighed.
"Very" Sebastian chuckled. "Maybe you should take a few days off." he said concern showing through his amused facade.
"No," the other sighed, sliding in a booth beside the front store window with his coffee. "I just need to get more than three hours of sleep."
"Ciel!" the other scolded, "Maybe, I should come over and wear you out." Sebastian tried to use the come-on to mask his growing concern.
"No way am I letting you slip into my bed like that." Ciel's eye crinkled in amusement as his lips turned upward in a smirk.
"What would it take then?" Sebastian purred, happy at the change of topic.
Taking a sip of his coffee and scoping out the book section of the store Ciel chuckled, "How about a new face? Or a piece of cake?"
"Brat. I'll be right back." the taller male rolled his eyes as the two went opposite ways and he heard snickering behind him.
The mystery and historical non-fiction section of the small book-shop was well stocked with interesting reads that the boy was instantly drawn to.
Normally Ciel wasn't an avid reader, but he did enjoy it, and when he did read he became intensely invested. Lately though, he found he enjoyed reading whenever he had the chance. The book he had in his hands was based on a forbidden couple during the sixties', and Ciel had heard of it multiple times before so he decided to tuck it under his arm for now as he continued to graze the books.
"Hey cutie, have you been here before?" Ciel's shoulder's instantly hunched up a bit, he hated being shamelessly hit on by strangers.
Catching a glimpse at the book under his arm,the man without a name grinned.
"Um, no actually." The boy quipped to the tall bulky male before him, who had swampy green eyes. He turned around hoping the man would get the hint, but naturally he didn't.
"It's real quiet, I have to say, not like the places I usually like to go." Moving with Ciel, he eyed his lithe body and small hands, examining a book.
"Oh?" was all he offered.
" Hey, you wanna get outta here, maybe head to my place for drinks or something?", the stranger asked, catching the cuff of the boy's shirt between his fingers. Ciel's face scrunched in disgust but before he could reply with a scathing comment he felt someone grasp his hand, and turned to see Sebastian pull him to his chest and hand him the bag he was holding.
"Hey baby," Sebastian smiled fondly at the now stunned Ciel, before looking up with a foul glint in his eye at the brown haired man, "This guy bothering you?"
At first the stranger, shorter than Sebastian and overly muscled, looked surprised before smirking and lifting his chin.
"Whatever man, I don't need a runt anyway." the man turned on his heal and was walking away when Ciel immediately bristled.
"At least I don't need to beg someone to get in my bed!" the blued eyed male hissed and Sebastian let out a barking laugh and squeezed his "boyfriend's" hand.
The guy snarled and looked like he was going to say something before an employee appeared to walk into the managers office. With a cowardly glare he left without a word.
"I buy you coffee and sweets, I take you out, I save you from creepy beef-cakes, the things I do for you" Sebastian sighed dramatically, a smile painting his features.
Ciel grinned, and choked out a quiet "Thank you." as he paid for his things and picked up his coat.
"Excuse me what was that?" Sebastian teased. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
"Thank. You. Asshole." Ciel said clipped, and strung out as if he were talking to a child, all while trying to hide a grin.
"Ahh you don't mean all those mean things, do you?" The taller male purred as they walked down the quiet street.
"What makes you think that?" the blue eyed boy was caught off guard by the breathy tone of voice coming from himself.,
"Well first of all, that adorable pink blush on your cheeks." Sebastian laughed as said boy looked away.
"And the fact that you," he leaned down to whisper in his ear, "have yet to let go of my hand."
Sebastian's laughing and Ciel's various insults could be heard down the block as he ripped his hand from the man walking beside him.
When they both quieted down garnet eyes met Ciel's still, flushed face.
"You know I didn't really mind," Sebastian's deep voice said simply. "It was actually quite nice."
Ciel hid his hopefulness easily, "Sure you did, you harlot."
The man grinned, and slid his hand in Ciel's coat pocket anyway, twining their fingers together playfully.
"I'm surprised you have no objections, Cutie." Sebastian chortled, as his friend threw him a glare.
"Just because you bought me cake," Ciel mumbled.
-
Notes:
They are such dorks I wanna hug 'em. Did anyone catch the reference to the Destiel fic Twist and Shout? No? Well go read it here > http://archiveofourown.org/works/537876/chapters/955176
Chapter 5: Lizzy and Shakespeare
Summary:
Lizzy visits the Estate and Ciel mulls over his feelings for her, or lack of.
Notes:
If you don't like Lizzy, you may not like this chapter because Lizzy is one of my absolute favorite Kuro characters. I don't think her and Ciel would make the greatest couple, but friendship wise I drool over them.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The Phantomhive Estate was brimming with anxiety, servants rushing around and fixing things as quick as possible, cooking , setting out flowers, all the while Ciel Phantomhive the renowned Earl and business owner, was simply trying to button his damn pants. Since his fifteenth birthday the boy had insisted on dressing himself, but when in a rush, he had the habit of fumbling when it came to buttons. unbeknownst to him the handle of the door turned quietly. The cause of his late nights and disheveled hair walked in on soft carpet and grinned, exasperated. Sebastian could watch his master struggle all day and never get tired of it. “
"Honestly Master, I thought you had figured this out years ago." his butler chastised, his appearance unannounced made his Earl jump at the unexpected sound. The boy whirled around to find his butler smiling knowingly, and as he bent to fix his masters clothes, blue eye's narrowed.
"Announce yourself next time!" the boy growled as his butler slid the button in easily.
"Do not snap young Master, or I will have to teach you to restrain yourself." the taller male purred as he planted a soft kiss to the boys temple. Ciel sighed, needless to say he was anxious for today.
"When will Lizzy be arriving?"
"About ten minutes, my lord." The taller male still kneeling before the Earl, began to run his fingers through the rumpled hair soothingly, and he felt the boy lean into his touch. This was the first time his fiance has visited since the two of them had established their new "development". Basically, last time Lizzy came over they were not fucking, and now they are. Ciel felt like he had betrayed Lizzy in a way, and his guilt was hard to bear. To be fair though, he had never really been attracted to her romantically, or any woman really. This did little to ease his mind.
"Next time she should really tell us before coming, it was lucky you could sense her presence before she came this time." he mumbled.
"She only wanted to surprise you, besides, it is with great sentiment that she visits. You know that don't you?" Sebastian smiled, wondering what the new day will lead to. Elizabeth had a great talent for bringing out the best and worst of Ciel.
-
"Oh Sebastian, everything is so lovely!" Lizzy gushed, "You have such talent!"
The garden was brimming with blooming beauties, the sky was filled with pleasant fluffy clouds, and the small wrought iron table the two teenagers lounged before was stacked with French pastries and petite china. The butler made his Masters' favorite macaroons in hopes it would lift his spirits, it did not escape Ciel's notice. Though he said nothing.
"I deserve none of your praise, I am merely, a butler." the man smiled pouring her a cup of tea glancing at Ciel.
Ciel rolled his eyes as a plate was placed before him.
Looking at her betrothed Lizzy smiled contently, racking her brain for something to talk about, even though the silence with Ciel was always comfortable, as they had become much more acquainted over the years. Her eyes widened as she found a subject she hoped would suffice.
"Ciel, do you enjoy Shakespeare?"
The boy in question raised his brows and his eye's widened.
"His work is remarkable, but his perspective on some values defiantly clash with some of mine"
"How do you mean?" She questioned, now engrossed in this conversation.
"Well for example, his over romanticism. Every tragedy he wrote was hardly realistic."
Her eyed widened.
Like Romeo and Juliet!" she exclaimed.
"Why Lizzy I thought that something you might enjoy..." Ciel trailed off more than a little surprised at this new development.
"I actually found it quite distasteful." she wrinkled her nose, and Ciel smiled fondly, he remembered this as her "stubborn face" from when they were children.
"Please elaborate," Ciel crossed his legs and sat up straighter in the chair, giving Lizzy his full attention.
"Well," she put a bent knuckle to her chin. "I think his view of devotion is mislead and unhealthy. You cannot throw away your family and all they have gifted you for a man you just met. I mean, a worthy man who can take care of you is one thing, but one who defiantly throws his family name to the dogs, and has a knack for falling in love with more than one woman is hardly anyone to fight fore."
"What is the kind of man to fight for?" Ciel asked, quite impressed with Lizzy's intellect on classic literature.
"Well someone who is respectable, and loves you and only you," Ciel grimaced at this point but hid it easily. "And if Romeo truly loved Juliet, he would have tried to mend the wounds between their family's' history. Not go behind their backs and do indecent things to a girl barley of age!"
"I agree, I always thought Romeo to be a push-over. He was pathetic in the beginning of the play, ignoring his friends and family over a simple matter, and then suddenly cured by the sight of a random stranger he met at a ball?"
"Exactly!" Lizzy exclaimed, exited someone agreed with her. "If someone rejects your advances the least you can do is have a little pride to swallow, and go about your business."
There was a pause.
"What about when Romeo found his love dead? What did you think about the double suicide?"
The girl took a thoughtful sip of her tea to mull it over.
"Well sad of course, no matter the things we just discussed, this must have been horrid for the poor thing. Although, he should not have killed himself. He should have lived in her honor, and never forget the things he loved about Juliet. Romeo should have lead a life vowing to live and commemorate the life that was taken from the both of them. Like, so wherever she was, in heaven I suppose she could look down and smile, knowing he was not miserable because of her."
Ciel nodded thoughtfully, and had a small epiphany.
"Also Juliet wasn't even dead at first! If Romeo had waited ten minutes, she would have awoke from the potion and they would have lived happily ever after! Then because of his rash action he left his love to basically stab herself in the gut."
Lizzy smiled, "You know Ciel I never had anyone who shared my thoughts about this! I'm glad we have something in common. My family always told me this story was literary genius and my mostly negative opinion was mislead."
The blue eyed boy scoffed lightly and smiled. "I think your way of words and perspective were nothing less than brilliant." the boy said, and he truly meant it. Sebastian owned his heart, caged in his hand for all eternity, but his dear Elizabeth always had a reserved place in his heart, where he fondly kept some of his happiest memories.
In the corner of the patio, awaiting orders, the butler was smiling, unable to hold back his amusement.
'Humans are so silly.' he thought. 'Especially my human.'
-
Through the whole day Ciel was surprised with Lizzy, they discussed books, and magazine articles, small fables, and nighttime stories for hours.
The boy was truly impressed with her vast amount of knowledge on literature, and found himself to be genuinely enamored with his fiance.
Eventually they made a list of recommendations, for each other so when they visited again they could discuss about more books.
They also played a game of chess, which he let Lizzy win, her game was shoddy at best.
"Miss Elizabeth, your carriage awaits." Sebastian bowed, outside the door of the room their new game of chess had been begun.
"Oh no, I was hoping we could finish this game!" Lizzy pouted a bit.
"We can always finish at another time, let us take you down." Ciel smiled.
"Alright." she smiled back.
_
The bone-crushing hug deposited to Ciel by his fiancé never failed to make every person around them grin.
"Goodbye, Ciel." She whispered in his ear as they embraced.
"Until next time Lizzy." he responded.
Pulling back she waved cheerily to the servants, "Take care!" she hollered smiling.
Wailing back words of sentiment the servants waived back happily, grinning ear to ear, as Ciel helped Lizzy in the carriage and closed the door.
When she finally had turned down the dirt road, every one turned to return to their duties. It was almost time for Ciel's bath, and he was eager to unwind.
-
"Would you like me to wash your hair Master?" Sebastian's voice reverberated around the washroom, although this time Ciel heard the man come in, albeit very faintly.
Reaching up blindly from the tub, Ciel's fingers found the collar of a cotton shirt and pulled so his lips met those of Sebastian's.
Pulling away he replied, "Yes, that would be nice, I have barely touched you all day."
Sebastian laughed. "I'm glad you feel the same." the man breathed, pouring soap in his hands.
Blue eyes closed and the younger man leaned back as deft fingers worked his scalp lusciously.
"May i ask you something Lord?" his butler asked, never this formal, since their, "relationship" had been established.
"Sure." was the quick reply, he popped open his one seeing eye to look at his demon questioningly.
The staring match was broke when Sebastian opened his mouth.
"Do you love Lady Elizabeth?" he said bluntly.
Ciel sighed irritated and closed his eye again.
"Not romantically, She is family and I lover in that matter, I do enjoy her company and respect her intellect, but I don't believe I love her the way every one expects me to."
"Good." Ciels eyes' popped open at that remark, and saw garnet fire in the depths of his butler's irises' and a smug smirk. "I've never been good at sharing."
-
Notes:
Please send suggestions and comments so I can write for you. Hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 6: My Rent is Due Tomorrow
Summary:
Amateur Model!Ciel and renowned Photographer!Sebastian meet in Italy. Ciel is abroad in college and his rent is due tomorrow, what other choice does he have?
Notes:
Here is the blog that i found the prompt from:@AuthorKuriKuri.tumblr.com , she has an account here but I didn't find it so here is the page! I thought this was so cute and i couldn't resist, so here you go!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Standing outside the large apartments, on the posh bit of town Ciel looked up at the highest point, seeing arrays of flowers spilling from window boxes, the occasional bloom falling to the ground. So far away from home, everything looked beautiful. “The Grass is always greener on the other side.” his great uncle Tanaka would always tell him back home in London. Italy was a beautiful place if you knew where to look. Being here abroad, Ciel lived in some of the cheaper apartments, a few miles away.
The Stone building before him was the color of un-reaped wheat, it had a beautiful old fashion wood door, and an ally that led to God knows where an either side. It was surrounded by other buildings, just as beautiful, just as old. A few blocks North, you find yourself slowly drifting into a popular part of town, filed with shops and restaurants, and café’s. This was the place to be if you had a big name in Italy, let alone Europe. Ciel didn't doubt this was the kind of place a famous photographer would reside.
Clutching his coffee with a vice grip, he stepped forward to make sure he was in the right place anyway.
'Rent, the rent, remember the rent, do it for the rent'… The mantra played through his head on repeat when he saw the address was indeed correct. He was not as experienced in modeling as his now employer probably thought. After all his major was in business, dull to most but incredibly easy and more than a reachable goal to him.
Apprehension welled in his chest, his grip on the shoulder bag he was carrying tightened, the pupils swimming in blue dilated when he walked in the small complex. A door opened to his left and an older lady smiled at him.
“Are you here for Sebastian?” she asked, her white hair bobbed as she excitedly approached him.
“Yes, I’m Ciel, I've been writing back and forth with his assistant, Mey-Rin about today.” He inwardly cringed at his own awkward mannerism.
“Of course!” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He is on the top floor, last room, number 6.” she gushed as she turned to look at some numbered cubbies next to her door, and pulled a few letters from one numbered, six.
“And please take his mail up, he’s never in one place more than a few months and I don’t want to leave it here again and have to mail it to him, where ever he may be next.”
Ciel smiled awkwardly, as mail was thrust into his hands and he was ushered up the stairs, with words of parting kindness from the woman whose name he didn't even catch.
The top floor ended up being five floors to the top, and by the time he got their Ciel was heaving, and gasping. Uttering words of scorn, he trudged up the final steps of the iron staircase, to see the sixth floor. It was bathed in light earth tones, and every window was open to let sun stream on the pictures adorning the walls.
These caught Ciel’s attention, they were nothing like he had ever seen before. All were in back and white, or off-white. Depicting people, some crying others laughing. He saw people in front of the Eiffel Tower, near the Cathedrals of France and Rome, or beside body's of water. Others were bloody pictures of police riots, and other civil battles adorned the walls, side by side with portraits of smiling people. Others were of models, twisting into beautiful shapes of agony, or joy and every emotion in-between, some held props in their hands or were wearing costumes to try and convey a certain emotion. Most of the models were men, a few woman, and one quite androgynous fellow with beautiful red hair and the most odd teeth. There were only two pictures of this particular model though; it seemed odd because of his beauty that he had such little wall space when there were several pictures of other less spectacular models.
Shifting his attention to the door at the end of the room, Ciel felt the knot in his stomach tighten and loosen nauseatingly. His small fist raised to the door, he took a deep breath and knocked three times before exhaling and taking a step back. The number six gleamed ominously at him from its perch on the door as he heard movement from inside.
The door opened and a Ciel came face to face with the taller males middle. Like a child, Ciel looked up for what seemed like miles before he came to eye contact with the man before him. The eyes were heavy lidded and seemed to glow from within their wine colored depths. He was easily over six feet tall and his smile was sinful as he looked down at the wide eyed boy with interest.
"Ciel, I take it?" he asked, in a smooth deep voice. The sound of a violin could be heard behind the photographer, and his equipment was ready behind him in what little Ciel could see of the room beyond. Then was when boy realized he had yet to say a word.
"UH. Yeah. I'm Ciel." the first part was to loud and Sebastian smirked. Ciel felt compelled to smack that rotten look of his handsome face.
"Come in. I'm Sebastian of course." He stepped to the side and Ciel walked in. He resisted the urge to roll his eye. "Put your things over there." he pointed to an antique velvety pink chair with gold accents. He did so and the older male promptly turned to lead him away. All the boy could do was follow. "Your land lady gave me your mail. She said you hadn't picked up so I took it for her." he held up the pile of letters and Sebastian raised his eyebrow's. "Ah, Than you, I've been expecting a letter." he took the mail and looked it over casually. "Here it is! Romanian mail always takes longer to get here." he muttered. "I saw the pictures out-side." Ciel commented as he walked by small work area by the door that had letters and a laptop on a small desk "Oh? What did you think?" Sebastian smiled with a raised brow, leading him down a short hall decorated with more pictures and two closed doors. "Pretty rad for an apartment. Do the other neighbors complain?" Sebastian chuckled.
"No, you see, I rented out this whole floor. So i don't have to deal with up-tight people being so negative in a place where I work." Ciel rolled his eye. 'These damn rich people.' he thought.
"They were... brilliant." The smaller counter part said quietly, begrudgingly.
"I'm glad you think so." They walked into a small living room with a balcony over looking the North side of Italy, it had a spectacular view of the shops and people.
"I have wine." Sebastian called from somewhere else inside the flat. Laying his coffee down and slipping his cardigan from his body, he hardly had time too look around the well lit flat before he felt eyes' burn his back. "That sounds lovely, but its not even noon yet." he called as though he didn't know Sebastian was behind him.
"No matter," the closeness of his voice bothered Ciel. "I'll get my things."
When the boy did turn all he saw was broad shoulders and jet black hair before they disappeared behind an open door. He followed slowly, not sure if he should.
The man appeared before him with his big camera, and a pink fur blanket.
"Excuse my forwardness, but, I want you to wear this." He smiled sweetly and held out the blanket.
"Wha?" Ciel sputtered not sure if the hefty paycheck was worth this.
"You see, it is," the taller male leaned close. "Essential to the message I want to get across."
"And what message is that?" he asked warily eyeing the pink fur, then Sebastian.
"You." he said simply. "I want to see what you can make me feel, before I let you really take part in one of my projects." his smile dripped with poison and sugar.
"Unless, you are no longer up to it." This was no longer a job, but a game, and Ciel Phantomhive never lost a game. Not to mention his paycheck.
"And this is all I will be wearing, I assume?" he sighed, irked.
"Yes." And he swept his hand to motion the way to the lavatory, with Ciel trudging behind.
-
Ciel was cold as hell as he looked at himself in the full length mirror in the lavatory. He looked tiny, compared to the large blanket draped over him. He was completely naked save for the damn thing. Sebastian had said how pink took better in black and white photographs, and Ciel had heard this little secret somewhere in his short journey of modeling, but he still grumbled at it.
He was not about too look like a pansy in front of this already ego inflated fat head, so Ciel lifted his chin, straitened his spine, and told himself what a badass he was as he looked at his features in the mirror. The eye patch was something all photographers he worked for found interesting ("What melancholy beauty I have before my eyes! My camera does not deserve to grace such lovely features!" one num-nut had said dramatically, was Druitt his name?) and he knew how to play his features. Although it was never weakness if he had a say in how he modeled. In this case, he understood it was all him, and Ciel would take full advantage of it.
Opening the door with a bang he stepped out, making sure all his most private places were frustratingly covered.
Sebastian was caught of guard, his eyes widened, and for once he didn't have a damn thing to say. The boy looked good, haughty, and pompous, he was a delicious specimen before, but now? He was absolutely delectable. The look on his face was bored, but an air of regal superiority hung about him. The blanket covered one shoulder and half his chest while the other side has slipped, and was now exposed to his eyes and camera lenses; and bunched about his crotch was the blanket, innocent as ever.
"Dog got your tongue?" the boy dead-panned with a smirk. Snapping his eyes from the exposed ankles Sebastian glared at his model.
"Isn't the expression, 'cat'? I don't even like dogs." the taller mumbled.
"Woof." was all his counter part said.
Sebastian raised his camera to his eyes.
-
This shoot was different from any Sebastian had ever done. Even his Pulitzer Prize winner was not half the experience of shooting this kid. He was all Sebastian had ever looked for in a model. His spirit was iron hot, but damaged. The look in his eye screamed rage and hate, but his mouth seemed to twist in smirk for every other click of the camera. He was un-veiling his life story, without saying a word. All attitude and blue eyed emotion wrapped in a pink blanket.
*click! click! click!*
Ciel found himself immersed in the smirk, just below the lens of the camera as it clicked continuously. He craved the sight of the red eye's hiding, he huffed as he leaned against the railing of the balcony. His hair nipped his eyes and he shivered. Unfurling himself from his hunched position he walked back into the flat, chin raised, Sebastian following him. Ciel examined himself in the square gold mirror hanging on the wall in the living room. He scowled, and he heard the camera. Sebastian was behind him in the shot and Ciel began to stare at his form. Tall and lean, wrapped in black with a grey knit scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Wondering where he kept his clothes, Ciel started snooping around the halls. He first found a bathroom in gold and white, then a big mahogany door, slightly ajar. Pushing it open, the boy found a room in complete disarray, clothes strew about and old books, photo's and camera equipment. Walking in he flipped open a bag to see scarves and veils, some corsets and even a few pairs of woman's underwear; he held them up for the camera with a dramatically scandalous look on his face. He found a hat too, wide brimmed and black with a scarf around it. Putting it on his head and tucking the black lacy thing between a fold in the scarf, he turned to give his companion a wink.
*click! click! click!*
Ciel looked lovely in a random hat that was found in Paris on an earlier travel. The thong accessory was a nice touch, bobbing lightly on the left side of his head. At the time it was on the road, but a subject of his collected it and put it on in a shoot once. "Ronald that probably has lice!" The muse didn't seem to care as he pranced about with it an his head. Although, he thought Ciel looked ten times as good in it. He turned to the unmade bed and walked around it. The white sheets were rumbled and the sky blue coverlet was wrinkled, a pair of boxers were seen hiding in the rumpled mess. A soft white hand grasped the edge of the mattress as he climbed on and kneeled on top of the sheets. Suddenly, the boy turned, "Who else has worn this hat?" he asked touching the edge with his finger tips. "No one important." the older replied, his voice was dangerously low. "Heh, that's probably what you tell all your models." He said throwing the hat to the floor.
*click! click! click!*
"I don't lie, kitten." Sebastian murmured behind the camera as Ciel lay his head upon his pillow. "I don't like to make a habit of it."
"Everybody lies." Ciel said.
The clicking stopped, Sebastian pounced, and Ciel gasped. The older man was straddling Ciel's thighs, holding him down and lazily snapping pictures at his priceless expression of anger and shock.
"You are a piece of work Phantomhive," he purred, placing the camera on the night stand, he leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Would you like to be my muse?" his tongue darted out to tease the shell of the younger boy's ear.
Ciel was panting and growing hot at the feel of the man on top of him. His word were like honey, but they also carried a threat behind them. This man was as much trouble as Ciel was himself, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
"Do I still get paid?" he breathed out, and Sebastian actually laughed.
-
The boy was un-waveringly amusing. His pose, his boldness! The gall he had to crawl into a famous person's bed uninvited! It was ludicrous, insane even! Sebastian couldn't help the smirk as he slid his large hands up the thin calves of his subject. He became all to aware of how hard he was getting, and a craving to be close to the boy below him.
He shifted his lips to the area below Ciel's ear an kissed and sucked on it as his hands got closer to the knot of pink fur covering his length. He felt Ciel reach up and tug on his hair, as he tilted his head back and breathed hard. When Sebastian felt the buttons of his shirt being pulled loose he began to mark the blue eye'd boy's neck and collar bone, the blanked slipping from his other shoulder. Suddenly, Ciel lifted his hips and grinded them into slacks of his photographer; they both moaned and Ciel lifted a hand to rub at and peel down the zipper of Sebastian's pants. Soon his shirt was on the floor and so was the blanket. Pants half open, Sebastian craved to see another part of his younger counter part, a hidden private experience. Knees bent and chest rising and falling erratically, Ciel looked annoyed at the halt in their actions. He also looked adorable in the photographer's opinion. Sunlight streaming through the window and falling on the bed, he thought he had never seen someone so beautiful, a man at least. He began to kiss, and suck down his bony ribs, leaving marks and nicks. With one hand he teased a nipple, and Ciel instantly arched off the bed and crooned. Sliding his tongue around the other and finally sucking on it had the boy a writhing mess. He kissed one delicately before nipping it sharply. Sliding down the latter's body, and dragging his fingernails down his ribs, Sebastian looked at the his muse's hard member. Staring him strait in the eye and still teasing his ribs, Sebastian slid it in his mouth all the way and began to massage the boy's inner thighs.
Ciel arched up again and groaned. He was trying desperately to keep quiet, more for his own pride than being heard down stairs. He instinctively lifted his hips when a tongue circled his head, and was instantly pushed back down by his hips. Not breaking contact with his cock, Sebastian stared up and with one hand still holding him down, he shook his finger. Ciel huffed again, but it was cut short when Sebastian slid his mouth from his person with a 'pop'. Kicking of his pants he crawled back on top of the boy and grasped his member and Ciel's so they rubbed together in his large hand. They both moaned as Sebastian's hand moved faster, and Ciel threw his head back on the pillow putting a fist to his mouth to stop his loud noises. He tweaked and rubbed his own nipples below the shadow of Sebastian, making the latter go wild with need.
When Sebastian removed his hand Ciel was about to protest before he saw him open the nightstand and remove a bottle of lube. If he were not so randy, Ciel would have made a comment on this, but all to soon his legs were being pushed apart. The first finger was inserted and Ciel squirmed uncomfortably, his face flushing more pink than it was previously. To keep him distracted Sebastian peppered kisses on the boys face as he inserted another. A slow burn made the blue eye'd boy go between intervals of panting and holding his breath, which he knew probably wasn't very good for him; so he tried to keep his breath even as he felt feather light kisses atop the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Sebastian felt the urge to take off the boys eye-patch, but it seemed like a very intimate thing to do (ironically). Unless the boy did it himself, Sebastian decided not to dwell on the matter, for now seeing this lovely creature come undone before him was more than enough. His free hand teased the younger's chest and nipples as his counter part got used to the intrusion, and Sebastian began to move his finger's a little bit more, still dropping kisses to his face and neck.
Ciel gasped and arched his back up suddenly moaning, "There!" he groaned loudly, and the pain was now the last thing on his mind. Sebastian hit that spot again and again, loving the look on his muse's face, his expression vulnerable for once. Removing his fingers Sebastian held Ciel's sides and lifted him, switching their positions. The younger found himself on Sebastian's lap, the others cock hard and standing as Sebastian laid back with his knees bent behind Ciel. Finding the bottle of lube, Ciel squirted a generous amount onto his hand and leaned down slightly to rub Sebastian's hard member. The tip was dripping pearls of white and Sebastian was writhing beneath Ciel, going crazy from the teasing. Suddenly a light smack was deposited on Ciel's rear, and the two glared at each other.
"Teasing isn't very nice." Sebastian panted hotly.
Grasping the other male softly and teasingly stroking him, Ciel lifted himself up and positioned Sebastian to his entrance smirking. Slowly he lowered himself down on the rigid member, he hissed as it filled him up, and gasped sharply when it bumped his prostate, still attempting to get used to the girth of it. Sebastian had one arm over his eyes, and one hand grasping Ciel's hip hard enough, that bruises where sure to appear. He tried hard to contain himself, but upon hearing a little gasp from his partner he moved ever so slightly and they both made small noises of desperation. A few seconds into it, Ciel experimentally began to grind his hips to the latter, gasping he lifted himself a small amount and went back down slowly clenching around Sebastian as he moaned.
Sure he was now comfortable, Sebastian lifted Ciel from his hips and slammed him down, to meet his up-ward thrust. They both moaned and the boy began to bounce faster as he closed his eye and threw his head back. With grit teeth and a hard grip the latter meet every bounce with a thrust of his own, his inky black hair stuck to his face and sweat ran down the back of his neck. He reached up to pinch a nipple and the blue eye'd boy got increasingly louder. Watching Ciel grasp his own member Sebastian pulled his hand way, Ciel whined adorably.
Ciel was gasping and bouncing with need, Sebastian pulled out irritating Ciel beyond belief; before he could snap at him though he was on his hands and knees. The taller male was kissing his back in apology, as he spread the other's knees apart. He rubbed his aching length against the cleft of Ciel's backside and kneaded his ass with his hands. Lips still attached to the boys back he ran a hand over his balls and a finger to the underside of his cock making it weep beads of white.
"Teasing isn't very nice." the boy grunted out between gasps. Another slightly harder smack was lent to him and Sebastian smirked.
Grasping Ciel's hardness Sebastian slowly pushed himself in, making sure the boy below him was alright. Once Ciel pushed back against Sebastian, he thrust in, hitting that bundle of nerves every time. He licked his lips and with his free hand gripped Ciel's hip for more friction. Arching his back the blue eye'd boy moaned loudly when Sebastian began to move his hand around his pink tipped cock. Pumping the others length slowly drove Ciel crazy, he was rutting against that hand while trying to push back against the fast moving cock behind him. The difference in speed was delicious and maddening all at once. Leaning down Sebastian ran his tongue down every bit of skin he could reach, and bit down on the back of the other's neck when his thrusting grew more erratic, and he felt heat drown his lower stomach.
"You look gorgeous like this Kitten." Sebastian murmured hotly, "Cum for me, Ciel." Sebastian moved his hand faster, and used his thumb to rub the tip. Ciel moaned again, and felt his balls tighten up. He clenched around Sebastian and began uttering his name. Like a mantra he would gasp "Sebastian! Hah! Seba-Aha! Oh Sebastian! Yes! Harder!" His name spilled from Ciel's lips like a waterfall, loudly and constantly.
Gasping, Ciel spilled ribbons of white on the sheets and his chest when he heard those devine words in his ear. Sebastian grunted at the sight and his hips bucked impossibly fast as he hit Ciel's over sensitive prostate harder making him scream with pleasure. Finally spilling himself inside Ciel, he kissed his back and licked his neck as the younger supported himself on his elbows now panting. Pulling his spent cock from Ciel they both collapsed on the bed, tired and satisfied, Sebastian grinning and Ciel flushed pink. Seeing the boy on the other side of the bed Sebastian grabbed his wrist and bulled him to his body, where he kissed his chest.
"Don't get shy on me now." He mumbled against the others collar bone, Ciel scoffed.
Leaning down Ciel kissed his mouth properly, slowly and exploring, finding Sebastian liked it when he ran his tongue over lips. A few tender kisses later Ciel wondered exactly how many of his clients this guy fucked. Probably all of them. He pulled back and looked away, red faced. He pondered on whether or not he had been used.
"Hey," Sebastian grinned, "have you ever been to Romania?"
Ciel didn't know whether to laugh or slap him, but all he knew was he better pack his inhaler if going to Romania was anything like what being in Italy was with this man.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed! Yay! first complete smut for this fic! I hope it wasn't to bad ^-^ Please excuse any mistakes I will try to fix them some time! Thank you for being patient with me. Anyway, remember to leave me suggestions or prompts so i can write for you!
Notes:
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it (and it made you giggle)! Remember to give me your prompts and constructive criticism is welcome!
0 notes
Photo
chapter 4: mother dearest | teasers p.1
#ts4#sims 4#sims 4 story#ts4 story#sims 4 screenshots#ts4 screenshots#regine#horses tea arrivals and books all in three posts?#who is she??
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Levihan Song Prompt
Like My Father by Jax
Aged Like Fine Wine
a Levihan post-canon fix-it oneshot
AO3 link here
Summary: Hange and Levi send an adult Gabi off on her first date with Falco, heavily inspired by the lyrics of Like My Father by Jax
Notes: Thanks for the ask @29austro-lover, this ended up being such a soft little thing, and I loved writing it! it feels almost ooc but maybe this is just how it would feel to get a canonverse happy ending for levihan lmao
“I’m home!”
Gabi heard a tea kettle whistling from the kitchen as she hung her coat up by the front of the cabin, and closed the door gently behind her. A record player played softly in the living room, the sound of a piano filling the home.
She walked up to the small table in the foyer, smiling as her eyes ran over the bouquet of yellow roses lying on top of it. A small sticky note lay next to it—“Four-Eyes, don’t tell me titans are cuter than these damn flowers I picked for you.” Gabi laughed to herself after reading it.
“Gabi, is that you?”
“Yes, Captain!”
The thumping of a cane grew louder, until Levi popped his head through the doorway.
“Gabi, I told you to stop with that already. It’s been years since I’ve retired from the Survey Corps. Just call me Levi already.” His slightly graying hair swayed as he nodded his hand towards the sofa in the living room, and Gabi obliged to his routine.
She sat and waited until Levi shuffled in with a piping hot teapot, and he poured some for the both of them. As they sipped, they listened to the record player continue to play.
“Hange loves this song, right?” Gabi asked, almost getting Levi to smile—it made her wonder exactly what memories came to Levi’s mind as he listened to the song. He stood up, gesturing his hand towards Gabi, and she took it happily. He took her hand holding up to the side, supporting it, while Gabi let him lean a bit into her, keeping him steady without his cane. Levi led her, dancing slowly to the lovely song together.
Levi looked up at Gabi, a warm sensation swirling up inside him as he saw how much she’s grown since they had first met. Gabi had grown into a fine, strong-willed woman emanating sunshine—oddly very similar to someone they both knew all too well.
“Gabi, you better make sure that Falco brat is treating you right,” he said out loud. But in his head, he wanted to say that that boy should be treating his little girl like royalty—a queen for that matter, just as she deserved—as she was the closest thing he and Hange ever had to a daughter.
Gabi smiled, and squeezed Levi’s hand. But before she could reassure him, the sound of a horse and carriage came from just outside. Gabi knew by now there was nothing stopping Levi whenever Hange arrived home from a meeting. She could only assist him by handing him his cane—otherwise, he’d get so worked up if she helped him anymore than that. Gabi waited, staring outside the window as Levi approached the horse and carriage on his own. She couldn’t help but laugh seeing Jean and Armin always trying to help Hange out, their faces absolutely terrified every single time—Levi’s back was always towards her, but she knew he definitely had that menacing scowl strewn across his face to elicit such a reaction from them. But they knew to expect this—Levi always wanted to hold the carriage door open and help Hange out by himself.
Like clockwork, Hange would happily wish them farewell, while Levi simply waved them off, wondering why they still had to still bother Hange for advice—they were “grown and could handle it themselves” he had always complained. But Hange clearly didn’t mind.
Arm in arm, the two walked back in, Hange squealing at the flowers as Levi moved with purpose towards the kitchen.
“Oi Levi, titans are still cuter, though!” She yelled after reading his note.
“Why, because they’re gross, like you?” he retorted.
“No, because they’re at least taller than you!” she answered, and threw her head back in laughter.
Before Gabi could visibly cringe at their weird way of poking fun at each other, Hange walked into the living room, greeting her with a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. It never failed to make Gabi smile.
“I hope Levi wasn’t giving you a hard time! Your date with Falco tonight is going to be great, honey—“
“Ah titan shit!” Levi exclaimed from the kitchen. Hange and Gabi made eye contact, smirking before saying in unison, “Titans don’t shit!” and doubled over in laughter.
Levi brought out the pie he had been baking, the edges of the crust a bit dark, and a disappointed look on his face as he sat on the sofa next to Hange.
“Don’t worry, Levi! I like when the crust is a bit more crunchy on the outside!” Though suddenly, she paused and looked down at her belly, frowning as she poked at the excess layer of fat. “But my old body isn’t keeping up with all the sweets you make me anymore,” she muttered with a frown. Before she could dwell on it for any longer, Levi pushed the bangs out of her face and around her ear—“Pfft, well you look pretty hot today.”
She smirked, and placed her hand on his knee—“Hot, huh Shorty? Well—“
Gabi slapped her hands over her ears and groaned, “Guys, please don’t be weird while I’m around—“
A shy knock on the front door sounded, startling all three of them. Gabi rushed to find Falco standing their blushing like a fool, a small bouquet of lilies in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. After catching up, a slice of pie, and a solid glare or three from Levi making Falco feel like he might just drop dead on the spot, the two decided it was time to go.
“Seeya later, oldies!” Gabi said teasingly.
Falco froze as he watched the smile disappear from Hange’s face, and Levi’s glare grow fiercer, and the two of them simultaneously flip them off. “Just you wait, age will hit you hard too someday!” Levi yelled as Gabi laughed and closed the door.
When the two reached the top of the hill, Falco looked back at the cabin, seeing Hange and Levi through the window, dancing together, a glass of wine in Hange’s hand. Hange leans back to look at Levi—
“And now cue Hange-san saying, ‘Levi, well you’re just like fine wine, better with age!’” And Falco’s jaw dropped as he watched Gabi’s mocking sync up perfectly with the words forming on Hange’s lips. Gabi giggled at Falco’s reaction.
“They’re perfect together right?” Gabi said under her breath, while Falco nodded confidently in agreement.
A wonderful evening later and a sweet hug goodbye, Gabi closed the door as Falco made his way up the hill. When he reached the top, he decided to take another look back at the cabin once again. He turned, and watched Gabi approach the sofa in the living room under the warm, dim light in the home. She smiled at Hange and Levi, both having fallen asleep next to each other. She stared lovingly at the two, noticing that the grey hairs grew a little more prominent on their heads with each day. Gabi carefully took Hange’s glasses from Levi’s hands, picked up the book that lay in Hange’s lap, and gently placed a blanket over the two of them. Falco smiled softly at the scene occurring before him, hoping he’d get to continue being a part of it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he stared up at the night sky, and wondered how the stars aligned so perfectly for the 4 of them to live out the happy ending that previously only existed in dreams.
#levihan#levihan fanfiction#levihan fanfic#gabi x falco#falbi#levi ackerman#hange zoe#falco grice#gabi braun
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Real Life Fairy Tale Wedding
Hi Skippy & Friends-Late yesterday afternoon with a big cup of tea I decided to watch the full wedding of the D & D of Cambridge. I had never seen it before because that year, 2011, was a big turning point in my life-from dark to light and that April, my own heart was opening again I could barely concentrate. Anyway, now having joined the researchers here, studying photos in depth for clues as we strive for truth, I thought why not sit back and see just what did happen on that soft spring afternoon in London.
Oh what a splendid celebration of love and life! The pageantry, filled with respect from all participating including riders on horses to the footmen for the coaches to the people in the streets. The beauty of a society coming together, all playing their part supporting the sanctity of a solemn pledge between two lovely young people, a symbol of their own lives. The bride and groom were beautiful and adorable. The Middleton’s are the personification of a tight knit family honoring their country and queen. HMTQ simply amazed once again, balancing her demure maternal presence yet powerful resolve when they all sang God Save the Queen-have a tissue handy just for that!
The music was an incredible mix performed by hard working angels in a cathedral filled with supportive witnesses in fine arraignment from all of the world, enjoying every minute of the historic event. (I do have to question the strange beige hat that Beatrice wore but am happy to see how much she has matured becoming the sweetest of brides herself last summer. She really does like fascinating headpieces!)
From the arrivals in sedate sedans to departures in ornate carriages with crowds cheering all along the way, one can only shake their head in awe, appreciating a city and country that really can put on a show of shows for all to enjoy. Truly wonderful and very uplifting.
Now, almost 10 years later this youthful couple has produced three children while working for the crown offering their own highly honed skills. They really are endearing. It is hard to admit that PH’s behavior that day was foreshadowing of his own wedding and life choices. He was a little off kilter to me, not quite understanding the collective depth of work (finances/world presence) it takes to make happen or the everlasting emotional promises that were being exchanged by the two people closest to him. Perhaps is was just bluster as the best man…but it did seem to me that he just didn’t get it….why his brother William was over the moon with his princess bride, holding her hand, carefully escorting her and wanting to kiss her on the balcony-twice while being so respectful to his elders.
Some other points popped up too, now that I have seen a pretender in a navy blue dress strutting up steps of a church…no one will ever outdo Pipa as the Maid of Honor. She was fabulous serving her sister while wowing the world in her stunning gown. The bride’s wedding dress was simply wonderful and perfect for her. Also, it was important to observe the tradition of the senior royal family joining the bride and groom for the book signing which was shown in the film. All of the signatures right there. There are so many differences in this wedding to the one referred to as the “unhappy gathering” but that is another subject for another day.
Well, this is all old news to so many of you…but like a great old romantic movie we can enjoy over and over…this is a classic which I highly recommend seeing again when you need a little emotional break from the world we live in today. Over and out from sunny Cape Cod. Pilgrim
Beautiful post! It was amazing for sure....thank you😊❤️❤️❤️❤️
1/17/21
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Zack Snyder's Justice League Review!
Zack Snyder's Justice League
dir. Zack Snyder (2021)
Warner Bros. Pictures, DC Films, Atlas Entertainment and The Stone Quarry
Science Fiction, Action, Superhero Movie
Rating: 3.5 Waves
Summary: Tormented by visions of a dark future, Bruce Wayne aka The Batman attempts to gather a team of superheroes to defend the planet. When alien tyrant Steppenwolf arrives on Earth seeking a long forgotten technology, this group of heroes must do everything in their power to keep him from locating all three Mother Boxes and destroying the world.
Content warnings: Violence, Death, Body Horror, Gore
This review DOES NOT contain spoilers for Zack Snyder's Justice League
A bit of background for those of you thinking “Didn’t Justice League come out years ago?” You are exactly right! Justice League was released in theaters in 2017 and is the fifth movie in the DCEU (DC Extended Universe). The same company that produced Justice League then funded Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) which is a different version of the story that was released in 2017. Zack Snyder was actually the original director of Justice League (2017), but he stepped away from the project during post production and the film was handed over to director Joss Whedon. Whedon’s creative decisions led to rewrites, heavy editing and a notorious reshoot that required removal of Henry Cavill’s mustache via CGI. Therefore, Justice League as it premiered in theaters in 2017 was Joss Whedon’s vision of the story. As some of you might remember, Justice League (2017) was considered a “flop” as it lost the studio ~$60 million overall and was received by fans with mixed to negative reviews (6.2/10 IMDB, 40% Rotten Tomatoes). But since Zack Snyder had left so late in the project, there were rumors that his version of the film had been nearly finished and there was hope that the movie Snyder filmed was actually better than what Whedon had created. Fans took to social media to demand that Warner Bros release the “Snyder Cut'' of Justice League and in a move I personally find baffling, Warner Bros actually gave Zack Snyder another $70 million to finish his version. Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) which was released on HBO Max is the final product.
While understanding the context of how this movie came about is neat and honestly pretty hilarious, I never got around to see Justice League (2017) so I cannot give any commentary on whether this new film is any better. For those who are curious, my fiancée who has seen both says that the movies are extremely similar in plot, but there are significant changes to characterization and pacing. This review will solely be on the merits and shortfalls of Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) in a spoiler free context since the movie was released just over a week ago (if you want to talk spoilers DM me I have So Many Thoughts).
Honestly, I was surprised how much I enjoyed this movie. My expectations were quite low considering what I heard about the original 2017 version and the fact that I’m more of a Marvel fan. The most surprising thing for me was that I sat through the entire 4 hr and 2 min runtime (for reference the runtime for Justice League (2017) is 2 hrs). Aside from Lord of the Rings (Return of the King runtime 4 hr 11min), I usually don’t indulge in movies that require me to block off an entire day, but I was curious and I love bandwagons.
The highlight of this movie are the characters. Each of our main characters had a deep, solid backstory that drew me in and made me invested in what was happening in this world. One thing lacking in a lot of ensemble superhero movies is balanced screen time between the main cast, but Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) uses its time wisely to give each character depth and critical purpose in the narrative. Even the villain had compelling motivation as to why he is on earth doing dastardly deeds, and while I wasn’t rooting for him, I respected his motivations. I also appreciated that the writers of this movie made the characters intelligent. Sure, some decisions were driven more by emotion than logic, but the way defenses are set up and how our heroes use their unique powers left me incredibly impressed.
The characters’ interactions with each other was also very enjoyable. Snyder took the time to include scenes centered around the team chilling with each other in ways that were refreshingly low stakes and mundane. The story was interspersed with scenes like Wonder Woman and Alfred making tea, Aquaman and Wonder Woman musing over cultural differences, and Cyborg and Flash digging up a body where you could really see the characters grow from strangers to teammates to friends. These scenes also peppered in some light humor that kept the movie from becoming too dark without distracting from the tone.
Since Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) is technically an action movie and it is rated R, I feel like I should touch on the action sequences. Overall, the action was incredibly fun to watch! It was made for the big screen so watching the epic battles for the first time on my TV at home was a bit underwhelming, but the well choreographed, high stakes fights were still visually pleasing. For a rated R movie there was not as much gore as there could have been, which I appreciated and the level of violence was pretty much what I expected from a comic book movie.
The action scenes also do a fantastic job with power escalation. By that I mean the action illustrates the limits of one character’s power clearly in relation to other characters’ powers. This way you are aware of exactly how impressive the characters and their powers are on their own and so when someone or something stronger shows up we have context for how big of a threat we are dealing with. The clean way the story shows us everyone’s respective powers and their limits makes it so the stakes feel more tangible and it's not just unfathomably strong characters beating the shit out of each other with the winner decided by chance.
There are a few reasons the movie didn’t get a full five waves from me. First was that the Amazon’s outfits were very clearly made by horny men based on how much skin they were showing. I, a bisexual, personally love to see superheroes in less then full coverage, but when the Amazon warriors have their entire stomachs and cleavage out of their armor for no reason it exhausts me. What happened to the tasteful and stylish armor from Wonder Woman (2017)? This feels like a step in the wrong direction.
The next concern I have that has kept me from recommending this movie to people is the overall pacing and length. While there were some great uses of the extended run time like the action sequences and team bonding I mention above, there were so many scenes that were way too slow for me to stay engaged. I found myself editing the movie in my head, like did we really need 2 full minutes of Bruce Wayne and his horse climbing a dreary mountain? I don’t think so. This was a narrative where I needed to pay attention lest I miss critical pieces of the story, but the random scenes that dragged on too long had me going to get snacks and checking my phone throughout. If I could rate the movie by halves the first half would get 2.5 Waves because of how it dragged and the second half would get closer to 4.5 Waves since the story really picks up and fun things start to happen.
The final part of this movie that kept it from getting a higher rating was how closely it was tied to Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. In fact, the first scene of Zack Snyder's Justice League is the final scene of Batman v Superman. There were many plot critical tie-ins to previous movies that left me feeling confused until I googled my questions during the slow scenes. If you have never seen Batman v Superman or Man of Steel then you will miss a lot of this movie, which I thought was unfair because other DCEU movies came out before the first iteration of Justice League like Wonder Woman and Suicide Squad and while events in those movies are mentioned in passing they are not nearly as important as the Batman and Superman-centric films. If the DCEU is going to pick favorites, the least it can do is pick movies I actually like (Wonder Woman (2017) remains my favorite DCEU movie to date). In general, superhero movies seem to be trending toward sagas and I prefer movies that you can just watch and enjoy without needing to see a bunch of other movies first.
Overall, I did very much enjoy this movie, but based on the run time alone it is not going to be for everyone. Measuring movie success during the pandemic is trickier than looking at box office numbers and labeling it a success or a flop, but it does appear that Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021) is doing well as far as critical reception and viewership. I hope that this success will allow the DCEU to explore all of the fun nooks and crannies of the universe Snyder pulled together. In fact, half of the epilogue of this movie felt like set up for future movies. I hope they come to fruition because there were some pretty compelling teasers at the end that I would love to see played out on the big screen.
As I mentioned before, I’ve never seen the original cut of Justice League, but Snyder’s version left me fulfilled and satisfied with the narrative, so I am happy to have seen this newest cut first. This is a movie for people who love DC, love superhero movies or are just really invested in the hype.
~TideMod
#Zack Snyder#the snyder cut#zack snyder’s justice league#Justice League 2021#Justice League 2017#DCEU#DC movies#Justice League#spoiler free#TideMod#wehavethoughts!#WHT!#reviewblr#movie review#film review#long post#action movie#superheroes#superhero movie#wonder woman#aquaman#the flash#cyborg#superman#batman#steppenwolf#mother boxes
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Books read in September
I had a moment of intense self-centredness and, internally, wailed: Why isn’t the world filled with more books that appeal exactly to me???
I’ve concluded that it’s like I have an inner story-troll sitting inside me shouting: Tell me a story! I try to appease it by presenting it with books, one at a time, and seeing how it reacts.
Favourite cover: Flyaway.
Reread: The Shadowy Horses by Susanna Kearsley. (I also reread From All False Doctrine at least twice.)
Also read: The Disastrous Début of Agatha Tremain by Stephanie Burgis and Snow Day by Andrea K Höst.
Still reading: The Time-Traveling Popcorn Ball by Aster Glenn Gray and The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett,
Next up: I have borrowed The Other Side of the Sky by Amie Kaufman and Meagan Spooner, Taking Down Evelyn Tait by Poppy Nwosu, and Between Silk and Cyanide: A Code Maker’s War, 1941-45 by Leo Marks. And maybe I’ll finally get around to The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams?
*
The City of Brass by S.A. Chakroborty (narrated by Soneela Nankani): I think this Middle East-inspired fantasy was just not the story I was in the headspace for -- it was longer, with more complicated worldbuilding and fewer answers. Possibly I’d have followed the political intrigue of Daevabad better had I read this in one gulp (I got halfway through the 20-hour-long audiobook before it was due back and I read other books before picking up the ebook). I liked the two protagonists, enough that I’m curious about what happens to them next, but the second book is 23 hours long and undoubtedly won’t resolve everything either. Maybe another day.
Tuyo by Rachel Neumeier: Ryo is left as a “tuyo” -- a sacrifice to be killed by an enemy -- as a sign that his tribe will withdraw from the Ugaro’s war with the Lau. But his captor doesn’t want to kill him, he wants Ryo to help him stop the war. Neumeier effectively creates tension between people who are polite, honest and honourable, and shows an intriguing relationship, defined by mutual respect, fealty and something more familial. There’s also some unusual magically-defying-physics-as-we-know-it worldbuilding but apparently I was far more interested in the character dynamics. I enjoyed this. Sequel, please?
From All False Doctrine by Alice Degan: My favourite book this year! Toronto, August 1925. Elsa Nordqvist, who hopes to write her MA thesis on a recently-discovered Greek manuscript, is at the beach with a friend when they meet two foster-brothers. This meeting deftly sets up everything which follows. The cover says “A Love Story” but this is also like a cross between a Golden-Age mystery novel and a fairytale retelling, with bonus academia and Anglicanism. I really like how much these characters value their friendships, their lively, intelligent and often honest conversations, and the way the romance unfolds. It also feels like a story written just for me and a hard one to review because my reaction has been very personal.
The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djèlí Clark (narrated by Julian Thomas): Set in the same city as A Dead Djinn in Cairo, this novella follows two agents from the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities as they investigate a possessed tram car. The world-building is vivid and cleverly, thoughtfully, imaginative. But, perhaps because of the mood I’m in and because this story isn’t interested in exploring the personal lives of its detectives, I have no feelings about this.
The Angel of Crows by Katherine Addison: Sherlock Holmes wingfic involving Jack the Ripper murders. Not what I’m looking for in a Holmes retelling. But I was sufficiently intrigued by something the author wrote. I really like Crow and Dr Doyle (arguably more than their original counterparts). My interest wavered a bit during the second half. It closely mimics the style and structure of the original mysteries in many ways and that’s not my favourite style. I wanted fewer cases to solve, and more of Crow and Doyle interactions. I liked the ending, enough to be glad that I hadn’t given up halfway through.
Making Friends with Alice Dyson by Poppy Nsowu: Australian YA. Alice plans to spend her final year of high school staying invisible and studying hard, but is thrown into the spotlight after someone posts a video of her dancing with Teddy Taualai. I loved how intensely this captures Alice’s emotions and perspective, and how the story explores that people have different emotions, perspectives and needs. Alice seems to me like someone who might be on the autism spectrum -- and whether or not that’s what the author intended, it’s great to see characters like her represented. I wish it had unpacked her relationship with her parents more, but that didn’t negate how much I enjoyed this.
Always and Forever, Lara Jean by Jenny Han (narrated by Laura Knight Keating): I can’t remember why, after I read To all the boys I’ve loved before and P.S. I still love you in 2017, I decided against reading the third book. It turned out to be my favourite. I loved it! I had a different experience of finishing high school and applying for university, but I find Lara Jean’s perspective intensely relatable: she has strong opinions about aesthetics; she’s nostalgic, introspective, stressed by uncertainty; she enjoys spending time at home with her family. I liked how this book captures her wonder at the intimacy of knowing another person well, and how, although she sometimes worries about their future, she has very few doubts about Peter himself. I haven’t come across very many YA novels in which a teenage girl is so secure being in a relationship.
The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley: After her sister dies, Eva stays with family friends in Cornwall, where she and Katrina spent summers years ago. I wasn’t expecting time-travel. I like time-travel stories, and I like how Kearsley handles it here. Eva’s choices make sense, given her situation, and the story emphasises that, even though she cannot control when she travels in time, there are still many choices she can actively make. So Eva becomes fascinated with 1715, because of the people she meets there and the relationships they develop... but I wanted to spend more time in the present-day Trelowarth, with its rose gardens and new tea room.
Flyaway by Kathleen Jennings: After she receives a mysterious note, nineteen year old Bettina flouts her mother’s rules for ladylike behaviour and embarks on a roadtrip with a couple of forgotten friends in search of her brothers, who disappeared three years ago. I loved some of the descriptions, especially seeing a rural Australian setting for this sort of fantasy. Jennings creates a wonderfully eerie atmosphere and the mystery kept me reading. However, the folktale parts of the story are dark, uncomfortably so. Very successfully Gothic, just ultimately not really my brand of Gothic.
The Duke Who Didn’t by Courtney Milan: There’s something so incredibly soft about this romance -- yet at the same time, it’s about two people who work fiercely towards their goals, worry about things, and are acutely aware of the discrimination they and other they love face as Chinese people in late 19th century England. Chloe and Jeremy’s relationship is characterised by banter and gentle teasing that reveals just well they know and accept and care about each other. Moreover, they have friends and relatives -- and a community -- who are supportive. I really enjoyed reading this and appreciated how low-angst it is.
The Threefold Tie by Aster Glenn Gray: Very tender. The characters convinced me that they were capable of communicating honesty with each other and making an unconventional relationship work. I liked the prose, which is no great surprise.
Hamster Princess: Whiskerella by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): This time, adventure finds Harriet at home: her parents are throwing a masked ball so she can “meet some nice young princes without terrifying them”. But the princes are all preoccupied with a beautiful stranger, and Harriet is distracted by the mystery: who is this hamster, how did she get in without an invitation and what sort of magic is behind her glass slippers? I think this is my favourite of Harriet’s adventures (so far). I loved the humour in this one.
Echo North by Joanna Ruth Meyer: When Echo finds her missing father unconscious and half-frozen in the woods, she is given a choice by the white wolf. A retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” with elements from “Beauty and the Beast” and “Tam Lin” thrown in, this has so many things which appeal to me, including an unexpected and wonderful library. Yet I found it frustrating and slow; the prose and the characters are rather straightforward, and I predicted nearly all the twists (bar the finale). But I believe that this tale could delight a younger, or a less critical reader.
The Disastrous Début of Agatha Tremain by Stephanie Burgis: In the two years since she turned sixteen and dismissed her governess, Agatha has been free to disregard ladylike behaviour, studying the books in her father’s library and teach herself magic. But then her aunt arrives and insists upon Agatha making a social début. This novelette is another story that I suspect I’d like more if it had been longer, if some of its ideas had been expanded upon and some of the relationships been given more space to develop. Agatha’s aunt and her motivations were unexpected, and I wasn’t entirely comfortable or satisfied with how that was resolved.
Snow Day by Andrea K. Höst: This novelette takes place after the Touchstone trilogy, more specifically after In Arcadia. Two outsiders get to see Cass and her family on Snow Day, and reveal a bit about their upbringing on Kolar. This feels very much like fanfiction which just happens to be written by the author. It is fun to see familiar characters through others’ eyes and the expanded worldbuilding is interesting, but as a narrative, it seemed somewhat incomplete. (Maybe she’s planning something more with these characters?)
#Herenya reviews books#Rachel Neumeier#Alice Degan#Katherine Addison#Poppy Nwosu#Susanna Kearsley#Ursula Vernon#Joanna Ruth Meyer#Jenny Han#Katheen Jennings#Courtney Milan#P. Djèlí Clark#Stephanie Burgis#Andrea K Höst#S. A. Chakraborty#Aster Glenn Gray
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Today is the third anniversary of my first poetry book, Poetry By Experience. I have taken three rather long poems from my book (collectively titled, A Trilogy of Poems, Parts 1, 2 and 3), and put them here into one poem. It is now a really long poem. I have decided to post them for poetry lovers and for my fans from various poetry groups, to share my joy on the third anniversary of my book - edited, and neatly re-compiled into one poetic story. I hope you like it. It’s entitled,
REMNANT MEMORIES OF HOME
(An Anniversary Re-compilation)
Fair land of glory loveliest song of morn
Smiling parks red roses set among thorns
Eager are the pigtailed gals busy to pick
Gallant swains fall in line ready quick
Gay day begins with a cheerful visit
Butterflies flapping floating in their flit
Love songs from the robins for one and all
Joy of my youth ever pleasing as I recall
Blooms linger when seasons cause delay
Young hearts get patient to wait and stay
Innocence and ease enrich my simple life
Nature overrides all hardship and strife
Simple folks endear in humble happiness
My daily loitering brings surplus gladness
Pausing to admire the glory of dawn
Watching the deer with her little fawn
Grazing on tapestry green by the slope
While bees and grasshoppers shyly elope
I dream of the maiden I secretly love
Like cooing doves wooing in their cove
Crossing quiet brook to watch her charm
Yonder fence lies her cultivated rainbow farm
I bless the approaching brilliance of day
When all around me freely lend a play
Contentment fills my soul cheers my heart
A pastime frolicking joyfully never to part
Simple pleasures and joys in sweet succession
come
Dancing pairs bring sweet memories for
dreams at home
Restful sleep follows in peace when the day is
done
Alas! These lovely charms are past and gone.
FOR greed has turned thy greens to yellow
No encore, no cheer, from grass to fellow
To the north, a new field, thy children flee
From the womb of Mother Earth set free
Freedom stings not numbing thy pain
New owners destroying thy smiling plain
Thy glassy brooks no longer reflect
Mossy paths mirroring a land neglect
Fallen leaves of nests for charging ants
Echoing the loud cry of thy poor vagrants
Wealth accumulates as thy land decays
Dry wind carries its stink day after day
Peasantry once gay now in great despair
Humbled down to breathe its own foul air
Times have altered thy once fair train
Rolling swiftly to dispossess thy grain
Thy packed lawn of fond cheering crowd
Empty, without the sportsmen’s shout
Devoid of the clapping scene of delights
The polo ponies run their winning flights
Looking across the sea on its weary shore
Generous provisions shall come no more
Bitter sweet is the sense of dreaded hour
To face the tyrant in his rigorous power
Covering the solitary rounds in wandering
Hopping along rugged paths, staggering
Awakened memories roam thy present ruins
again
Capture my heart but changing to the past in
vain
In all my loiterings on thy plains, O Mother Care
I now see the gifts of griefs I have to bear
Give me hope in one Almighty I can trust
Not to reason, only doing thy will I must
That I may come home to write my story
Around a fireplace to tell all its history
What I have seen, learned or knew,
Willingly to be buried, reborn in you
POVERTY drives us to a different shore
With promise for a hope that there is more
Is this a greener pasture, a new found joy?
Not a splendor but a treacherous decoy
Groups cramped in pigeon holes on a stand
Large families packed in a home without a land
Hoisted home up in the sky swiftly built
No warm blankets just share a family quilt
Good Heavens! Greater sorrow newly imposed
Hard labour! Native walks no chance to be
proposed
O Fair Land, why hast thou caused us to leave
To this distant shore unknown, far more
aggrieved
Do thou, o sweet Mother, weep in vain
Thine fair tribes now add on to thy pain?
Thine children knock at doors for bread
Chilling bones in hunger desperation led
Good neighbors forced to sell their daughters
Not through any faults of theirs that they
should falter
Bless me - why, had we brothers any sister
Our decision would not have been better
Painful to watch sweet little girls in tears
Pretty innocents in their helpless years
I weep as I watch them in their charms
Shaking wildly in their fathers' arms
Grieving mothers kiss their mindless babes
Strike their breasts looking skyward sadly in
gapes
I see the fairies and nymphs degraded
In my dreams I see my heaven has faded
These are the hard truth in times of shame
Best to forget, needless to share, no one to
blame
In the city their statesmen talk as their ale
goes round
Laughing, cheering with haughty looks
profound
Such luxury migrants can ill afford
Even simple pleasures dismiss accord
Wealthy men arrive from world around
Suits and hats stunning ladies surround
A wanton wealth designed in tempting display
Painful truth in my mind I mindlessly survey
For I am sickened by this man-made pleasure
Toiling in the distrusting hearts of false leisure
Accumulated wealth stored in pride
Buy a lass to play as an obedient bride
Repossess the cuddly space of the poor
For their horses, hounds and more
Lawful acquisition to rob the timid folks
Stealing their meals of oats and yolks
Dressing up their females well adorned
To reign secured while simple folks mourn
Statesmen to their sons divide the wealth
acquired
To their siblings, wives, married relatives
as required.
Beating my chest in sweet memory
recall
In senses with unfailing truth reveal it all
Oh past the plain the surging joy prevail
That which I have loved can never fail
That broken teacups I have taken with me
Stirs my will daily sipping my humble tea
No tales no news from barbers or farmers
It's fine - all return at meals as we gather
No theatre, no ballad, no talent time
Everything comes handy in sublime
Make our own feathered balls and stuff
Marbles rolling, guessing games and bluff
Obscure yet it sinks deep in our souls and
hearts
Those simple treasures, everlasting will not part
My vacant mind frolicking in the pond
Caress my soul, my spirit neatly bond
Contented on my stool writing my poetry
Pass my time in imagined peasantry
Raise my native strength for greater gain
Instead of indulging in pitiful afflicted pain
Plant my seeds, pull out the weeds annoy
With compliments from God, my daily joy.
©Johnny J P Lee
Photo Credit J. P. Lee
31 July 2020
#instruth#instruthpoems#13cupsofteareblog#tea cups 13#poetry club 13#gececi 0671#gir dap#followcb#teaberrybee#acrobat888#frankl410#the subservient human#tanou123#smittenbypoetry#writerscreeds#poetryportal#writtenconsiderstions#angiessong67blog#ambroseharte#sarah irura#warxpunkxmonk#lilyrochet#a peace follower
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Treasury Solicitor takes Tea
Or The Case of the Rugely Poisoner
Part I – Dr Palmer’s cure for debt
On Saturday, 14th June 1856, Dr William Palmer, dubbed by the press “The Rugely Poisoner” or “The Prince of Poisoners”, was publicly hanged at Stafford for the murder of John Parsons Cook at the Talbot Arms, Rugely.
The tale of Palmer’s crime and eventual conviction reads like a Victorian crime thriller. Not surprisingly, because that is precisely what it was. And, but for a chance encounter over a cup of tea, he would have walked free.
The story of Dr Palmer’s life abounds with ugly rumour and speculation but in sufficient quantity for a conclusion to be fairly reached that he was not a nice man, and certainly not the “Saintly Billy” described by his doting mother.
The earliest speculation surrounds a drinking contest that he had with a man who, later, went home to his bed and “died of convulsions”. Palmer was known to be interested in the man’s wife. With rumour spreading of his involvement in the man’s death, Palmer moved on to Rugely, where he married another woman, Ann. Her mother, who had a fortune of £5,000, came to stay: and promptly died “of apoplexy”.
Palmer loved to bet on the horses and he ran up large gambling debts. He was helped out by a large loan by a friend. The man subsequently died at Palmer’s house, apparently in agony. Palmer, as the doctor in attendance, attributed the death to “an abscess in the pelvis”.
That four out of Palmer’s five children died in infancy could be no more than a sign of the times. That Ann, his wife, then died at the age of 29, “of cholera” could be true; there was a cholera epidemic sweeping England at the time. And the fact that Palmer had just insured her life for £13,000 may have been either shrewdness or a coincidence.
Palmer had, by then, squandered his wife’s inheritance and accumulated debts of £22,000 (you can multiply that by about a thousand to get the current equivalent of that sum). That Palmer’s brother Walter then died after Palmer had taken out a huge insurance on his life may have been another coincidence. The insurance company did not think so, sent in investigators and refused to pay out.
But however unlucky Palmer was with the horses, he was more fortunate in life. When his wife’s and brother’s bodies were exhumed they were too decomposed for the cause of death to be established.
And so we come to John Cook. Cook was a rich young man who shared Palmer’s passion for betting on horses but was rather more successful at it. They became friends and Cook loaned Palmer money. Dr Palmer took charge of Cook’s health, which started to deteriorate.
The last few days of Cook’s life were spent at the Talbot Hotel with Palmer in attendance. Cook claimed one night that that there was something in the brandy they were drinking and that it was burning his throat. Palmer made a show of tasting it in front of other guests and declared it good. That night Cook began to suffer spasms and other symptoms. Dr Palmer called on the services of a local doctor who prescribed an opiate to relieve the symptoms. Dr Palmer insisted on administering the medicine and took charge of what Cook ate and drank.
A servant at the hotel later testified that she had tasted some of the broth that Dr Palmer had prepared for Cook. “I suppose I drank about two table spoonfuls, the effect of that was to make me sick in about half an hour, or it might be an hour—I was sick violently all the afternoon till about 5 o'clock”.
Witnesses gave evidence of Cook’s final hours. “I observed that his body, and head, and neck were moving, there was a sort of jumping or jerking about his head and neck—sometimes he would throw his head down on the pillow, arid raise himself up again—the jumping or jerking was in all his body—his breathing was very bad, and the balls of both his eyes very much projected—I observed a gasping when he spoke. It was difficult for him to speak, he was so short of breath—he screamed again three or four times while I was in the room, that was while that violence was—he was moving and knocking about all the time—he called aloud, "Murder!" twice.”
The maid said, “I heard Mr. Cook make a request about being turned over; I believe he said, "Turn me over on my right side." Then Cook died.
Dr Harland was called in to conduct the autopsy. As he arrived, Dr Palmer joined him. He recalled Palmer saying, "I am glad that you are come to make a post mortem examination; some one might have been sent that I did not know, and I know you.” Harland asked, "What is this case? I hear there is a suspicion of poisoning" and Palmer replied, "Oh, no, I think not; he had an epileptic fit on Monday and Tuesday night, and you will find old disease in the heart and in the head."
Later, Palmer, attending the autopsy, fed brandy to the student carrying out the examination of the body and had nudged his arm. The surgeon to whom the vital organs were sent for examination complained that they were so damaged and contaminated that he could draw no conclusions as to the presence of any poisons.
Cook had kept a “betting book” in which he recorded all his bets and what he was owed. The maid remembered its being by his bedside. But when Mr Cook’s brother inquired after the book” Dr Palmer said that it was missing.
Then it was discovered that Dr Palmer had bought for six grains of the poison strychnine shortly before Cook became ill.
Though the evidence against him was circumstantial – so much so that it could not even be shown that Cook’s system contained poison - Dr Palmer was arrested and charged with murder
Part 2 – Justice served in a teacup
In Part 1, we saw a mounting number of deaths surrounding Dr Palmer as he pursued his life of reckless gambling and debt. Despite his financial interest in their demise, nothing could be proved against him. But with the death of John Parson Cook, Palmer’s friend and benefactor, suspicion reached a level that could not be ignored and he was charged with murder.
In 1850, strychnine’s discovery by two French chemists was barely more than 30 years old. The deadly quality of the biological source of the poison, a genus of trees native to Asia, Africa and Central America had been know for some time. Nux Vomica (a substance used by homeopaths but in such microscopic quantities as to be incapable of doing either harm or good), derived from the seeds of the trees, was used as a rat poison but the active chemical strychnine had not been isolated until 1819.
Cases of strychnine being used as a murder weapon were rare (or had gone unidentified) so that establishing its administration as the cause of death was forensically difficult. Few had witnessed the progress of the poison.
Few but, sadly, not none.
In October 1848, Caroline Hickson was a nurse in the family of Mrs Serjeantson Smith. On 30th October, Mrs. Serjeantson Smith was unwell and a prescription was sent to Mr. Jones, a local chemist, to be made up for her. It was in the afternoon, about 6 o'clock, that the medicine arrived. It was a mixture in a bottle. Hickson gave her mistress the medicine, about half a wine glass full, in her bedroom the following morning, at around 7 o'clock, and saw her take it. She then left the room but was alarmed by the ringing of the bell about five minutes after, or it might be ten. When she went into the room she thought her mistress must have fainted. Very soon after, Mrs Smith started to suffer from spasms. Hickson sent a servant to bring a doctor. In that short time, when she returned to the room, her mistress was lying upon the floor, screaming with pain but through tightly clenched teeth. Her arms and legs were drawn up tight to her body, her feet turned inwards. A short time before she died, the last words she uttered were, "Turn me over" and seemed more comfortable.
Shortly afterwards, the chemist, Jones ran up to the house in a great state of alarm. He had made up the wrong prescription. Mrs Smith had, by accident, taken a fatal dose of strychnine.
The awful tragedy was reported in the papers. But Nurse Hickson was so distraught that she broke down. She left the family and disappeared without trace.
When Dr Palmer was arrested, the Treasury Solicitor was Henry Reynolds. This was before the advent of a Director of Public Prosecutions and the Treasury Solicitor had the task of supporting the Attorney-General in the conduct of major prosecutions. The trial of Dr Palmer – moved by special Act of Parliament from Stafford to the Old Bailey because local feeling against Dr Palmer meant he was unlikely to receive a fair trial - fell to them.
The Attorney General and the Treasury Solicitor, convinced as they were in their own minds that Dr Palmer had poisoned Cook with strychnine, were none the less concerned that the evidence was not sufficient to persuade a jury. Without proof of its presence in Cook’s body, the link between Palmer’s purchase and Cook’s death was speculative at best. What they needed was evidence that would demonstrate that Cook’s manner of dying was only consistent with the unique pattern followed by strychnine poisoning. But because of the drug’s novelty, such evidence was conspicuously absent.
The sad business of Nurse Hickson eight years earlier came back to Reynolds’ mind, but all efforts to find her had proved fruitless.
The matter was preying on Reynolds’ mind when he went to tea with Lady Caroline Gamier. The forthcoming trial had so captured the public imagination that it naturally formed a topic of conversation and Reynolds told Lady Caroline that there was only one link missing in the chain of evidence, vital to convicting Palmer; the evidence of a woman named Hickson, who had witnessed the fatal effects of strychnine at first hand. The Treasury had, he said, made every inquiry for Hickson, but she could not be traced.
Astonishingly, Lady Caroline replied, "Hickson is at this moment in my nursery."
At the trial, the poor nurse bravely relived the nightmare of when she accidentally administered strychnine to her mistress and gave a graphic account of the course of her dying, the spasms, the arching of limbs. They all matched the evidence of Cook’s end.
And then there was the call to be turned on her side as the only position of any comfort, followed by breathlessness and asphyxiation. Its correspondence with Cook’s own last hours was striking. The jury convicted Dr Palmer of killing Cook by administering strychnine and Palmer was sentenced to death.
As a footnote to history, English vernacular is peppered with colourful but obscure phrases, many with nautical or colonial origins. Those of you who have ever wondered where the expression “What’s your poison?” – a macabre invitation to to take a drink - came from now have your answer. So powerfully did the case of Dr Palmer, the Rugely Poisoner whose modus operandi was to spike the drinks of his friends with strychnine, capture the imagination of the British people that the “What’s your poison?” entered the language and remained long after Dr Palmer was forgotten.
If you are interested in this case, you can find a transcript of the entire trial at the Old Bailey on-line: http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t18560514-490-offence-1&div=t18560514-490&terms=william|palmer#highlight
1 note
·
View note
Text
Match up! (ᵔᴥᵔ)
Hi hi! May I please have a matchup for IkeSen? I’ve been reading through all the ones you’ve posted and I love how much thought and consideration you put into them! ☺️
A little about me; I’m just about to turn 23, 5’4”, a Leo, and my MBTI is ENFJ. Blue eyes, blonde hair, but ya girl is about to become a redhead and I can’t remember the last time I was so excited for a change like that lol 🤩 I’m pretty confident in myself, and sometimes that pride gets in the way of asking for help, but I can understand when it’s needed and put it to the side (temporarily).
I love love looove to read 😍 Lately I’ve been really into contemporary romance but I’m also a big fan of YA and adult fantasy! Oh, and academic texts, the reasoning for which I touch on below.
Learning is honestly one of passions, but it has to be on my schedule and the subjects I’m actually interested in. I just finished my BaH in History, and it’s cool because I can go off about fertility treatments in 17th century England or notable female figures in the Philippine Revolution of 1896, but I don’t know shit about much of WW1 🤷🏼♀️
I’m also super social, so I love going to parties and events (or better yet hosting parties and events). Social interaction is what keeps me going, and the side of me that loves quiet reading time comes out when i need to recharge. I also need something to do to keep busy, so I tend to alternative creative hobbies pretty frequently. And I’m always trying new recipes! Mainly baking different things, but really I’m willing to try cooking anything that piques my interest at least once.
I love to travel too! I’m a broke uni graduate so I can’t exactly afford to go anywhere rn, but I’d love to be able to travel the world and visit historical sites. They would have to be long trips though, because I have a habit of sleeping in and staying up late into the night, so I end up limiting how many daylight hours I have to get things done 😅
I think that’s about it? Me in a bubble lol. I’m so looking forward to seeing who you’d think I’d mesh with, thank you so much! 🥰
Hi hi, love! 🔥Thank you so much for the request! Awww I’m so happy you have been enjoying my matchups! ❤😆Sorry for taking sooo long! I hope you enjoy and I hope you have the best day!❤🌻 @ohno-0tome
So I match you with……….Shingen
It had been a few weeks since you arrived in Azuchi and you were starting to fit in pretty nicely. I’ll admit when you first arrived the warlords were extremely cold and suspicious towards you, but soon they got to know you and had adopted you as their dearest little sister.
You work incredibly hard for the castle and its people and all the warlords absolutely adored your bubbly personality. One of your closest friends was Mitsunari, as he like you was a fellow bookworm and scholar. You had also come to become quick friends with Masamune as the two of you would often swap out recipes and spend the day cooking delicious food for the Mitsus
Mitisunari had introduced you to the town library, where he too spent most of his time absorbing the knowledge from any and every book he could get his hands on. In just 2 weeks of being in Azuchi you had managed to read almost every book in the castle archives. So you would often accompany Mitsunari on his trips to the library to quench your own thirst for knowledge.
You loved going into town and just spending the day in the library, it was every book lovers ideal setting. Quiet, comfy chairs and a small teahouse in the furthest corner of the library, that sold the most amazing pastries and tea you have ever tasted. It had become somewhat a tradition for you to quickly finish all your chores and then make your way to the library, to sit in your usual sunny spot by the window. You had gone to the place so often that everyone knew you there, even the teahouse owner would keep your teacup full as you spent the day reading in the sun.
One day as you sat in your usual spot, a man walked past the library window and saw the most enchanting person he had ever seen. The way you red hair shimmered in the sunlight absolutely enchanted Shingen. Boy oh, boy did Shingen lose his heart to you the second your beautiful blue eyes met his. You gave him a small smile and went back to the young adult romance book you were reading. As you carried on reading your mind couldn’t help but drift to the mysterious man that you had seen through the window. You wondered if you would ever get a chance to see him again, and if hearing your thoughts, fate intervened
The next day you went to the library after work as per usual, the owner had told you that they had just gotten in a new shipment of YA books, and gestured to the top shelf. Honestly, you weren’t the tallest of people so you opted to climb a few of the shelves, so you could reach the books. You had no intention of asking anyone for help, as you were a strong independent woman. You carefully made your way to the top, gripping the small groves between the shelves for support. Just as you reached out to grab a book, your footing slipped, and you went tumbling down. You braced yourself for impact, yet it never came. When you cracked open your eyes, you saw two deep brown eyes and a gorgeous smile staring back at you, “Careful my angel, can’t have you falling down and injuring yourself, now can we.”
He gently set you down on the ground, and the two of you got to chatting. You were incredibly social, and you loved meeting and chatting to new people. You couldn’t help but laugh and Shingen’s cheesy pick-up lines and his flirtatious way of talking. He definitely caught your interest, especially when you spotted him holding a book about history, and not just any history, English history. That afternoon was spent with the two of you excitingly talking about the historical events and figure of all the different places the two of you had read about.
The next day you took up residence in your usual spot, when Shinegn walked into the library and took a seat next to you, to read a book of his own. This had become somewhat of a daily occurrence. You and Shingen would sit in your usual spot in the library near each other and just read.
Some days the two of you would just sit and read without saying a single word, yet other days the two of you would sit for hours and hours in the tea-house discussing everything and anything, from new books read, to the most random of topics.
Shingen wasn't the only friend you had managed to make when leaving the castle to spend the day in the markets. You had soon after your arrival also met Yukimura and Sasuke, and the three of you became quick friends. You absolutely loved to banter and bicker with Yuki and completely geek out with Sasuke over history. Honestly, the three of you acted like a siblings.
One day while you stopped by at Yuki’s stall for your daily bickering match, he let it slip that Sasuke’s birthday was coming up. Your eyes gleamed in delight at the mention of your friend’s birthday, “Yuki, I know just how we can celebrate his birthday!” You and Yuki spent many afternoons together planning a birthday surprise for Sasuke. You absolutely loved parties and hosting events, so you were absolutely in your element, planning out every detail. You, of course, left the guest list up to Yukimura cause he had told you that Sasuke had many friends that didn’t exactly live in Azuchi.
The night of the party, you were having the best time, Sasuke was so surprised that you and Yuki had managed to pull off such a big bash right under his nose. You were walking around mingling with all his friends when a familiar man caught your attention, was that…. Shingen? You walked up to the gorgeous man, “well well well fancy meeting you here.” You smiled at the sight of Shingen being caught off guard, “I was wondering what kind of celestial being would be able to pull off such a big bash right under our enemies noses, and I must say to find out that it was all your doing doesn’t surprise me.” Before you could answer Yuki and Sasuke came up to the two of you. Sasuke and Yuki were busy introducing Shingen to you when you, shocked them both with the revelation that the two of you had actually been spending the past few months together, reading and chatting in the library. You and Shingen spent the whole party together just chatting and joking away
Shingen realized that night that he had long ago fallen in love with you. He loved your bubbly social personality, he loved the way the two of you could just sit in comfortable silence for hours and hours not talking but just simply enjoying the presence of each other. He loved how confident and intelligent you were and how you hated asking for assistance/help of any kind. He just simply loved you. He was determined after that night to tell you exactly how he felt.
He knew from the many conversations the two of you had shared that you loved to travel and explore historical sites. So a few weeks after Sasuke’s party, he met you at your usual spot in the book shop. He gently took your hand in his, and lead you outside to a waiting horse. The two of you rode for what felt like hours, when you finally arrived at Kasugayama Castle. Sasuke had suggested to Shingen that he show you his home, as Sasuke knew you would absolutely love to see the home of another warlord, as it is low key considered a historical site in the future. The last stop of your sightseeing visit was Shingen’s room, which was full of the coolest historical artefacts.
He made the two of you some tea, and you sat down across from him slightly exhausted from a full day of fun adventures. After tea, Shingen walked you to your room, as it was already too late to take you back home. The two of you stopped in front of the door, neither one wanting to part from the other just yet. That’s when Shingen took your hands in his and leaned in close and confessed his feeling for you. He couldn’t even finish his cheesy flirty confession, as before he knew it your arms were wrapped around his neck and you had captured his lips in a sweet kiss.
You decided to stay in Kasugayama Castle for a little while longer, sending word to Nobunaga and the other to let them know you were safe. Shingen loved finding our new thing about you every day. Like your love for baking, he had quite the sweet tooth and to find out that his goddess could satisfy that sweet tooth with delicious pastries, made his heart soar. He loved it when you would surprise him with your latest creation, after being inspired to try out a cool new recipe that piqued your interest. He loved how you could never sit still and always had something to keep you busy.
The two of you continued your tradition of reading together, expect the only difference was, now that you were together Shingen would insist you sit in his lap and read so that he could hold his goddess in his arms.
This man will shower you in endless amounts of affection and attention. THB you loved it at Kasugayama Castle, as there was a social gathering almost every night. Whenever you would need to recharge your social battery, Shingen would be by your side in an instant, silently leading you away from the banquet so that the two of you could spent the rest of the evening in peace.
What did Shingen love the most about you? Well that easy, he loved that you would sleep in late into the mornings, especially if the two of you had had a late night staying up together. He loved to just lay there and watch that beautiful sleeping face of yours, while he gently rubs small circles on your back.
He loved how you would wake up slowly and turn around in his arms while nuzzling into his chest to shield your eyes from the sun streaming into the room, to give your self 5 more minutes of sleep. He would tighten his embrace and trail small kisses from the top of your head, making his way down to your forehead, each of your eyelids, nose and finally lips, while whispering a sweet good morning. These quiet, warm moments with you every morning were beyond compare his favourite.
Other potential matches……………. Nobunaga
I hope you enjoyed this dear❤🌻!
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Life Worth Waiting For
Into and Out of the Wardrobe
A/N: This is my first ever Narnia fic, so thank you to @edmundrex for posting the #CairParavelNet June Event! (Technically it’s called into the wardrobe but I couldn’t just pick one part)
Warnings: Minor Angst, Fluff
Word Count: 8,063
The platform was crowded with weepy mothers, nervous children, and a great deal of luggage. Mothers arms wrapped around my body, as tiny as I was it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. It wasn’t cold on the platform but I was shaky from the nerves. The ringing made it to where I couldn’t even hear what she was saying to me, her words were silent even as she attached the travel tag to my sweater.
“Alright dear, don’t take this tag off until you get to your platform. They’ll pick you up there and take you to where you’ll be safe.”
Her hand brushes over my hair, finally looking up at her through slightly swollen eyes my lip quivers as I try not to cry,
“Mama I don’t want to leave... I- I don’t want you to be alone...”
Her smile was warm as a summer day, one from before the war when we’d spend days in the park. She lightly brushes her thumbs over my cheeks, wiping the tears there away;
“Darling, I’m never alone. Papa may be gone but I have grandmother with me.”
Sniffling I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. She gently turns me around and nudges me towards the train, getting caught between several people while I struggle with my suitcase. One of the ticket readers grabs the tag and pulls the ticket from it while some older kid grabs my arm, pulling me along. My eyes widen from the sudden grip, following this tall boy onto the train. The door closed behind us and my heart sunk, turning to it I tried to see out the window to see my mother as my eyes fill with tears again.
Before being able to see out the window the trains horn blows and it starts to move and yet again, I’m grabbed by the boy while a conductor checks our tags and heads for a compartment with two children already in it. It was only then that the boy realized I wasn’t his little sister,
“Who are you?”
Sniffling I move to sit down, hugging my suit case tightly,
“Maude, Maude Crownly.”
The conductor nods and helps with the luggage before moving on, leaving all of us in awkward silence. I kept my head down, pulling a few sheets of paper from my pocket and a rather mangled pencil to draw on as the train picks up speed,
“Well, I’m Peter. Peter Pevensie... Sorry if I scared you.”
I glance up at him and smile, missing a tooth in the front of my mouth,
“You didn’t scare me that bad,”
He smiled and sat back, looking at his other siblings before looking down. With that the compartment went silent as it traveled for the country side.
Four hours after the other two children got off the train, the five of us waited in silence for us to arrive at the platform at Coombe Halt, or temporary new home. Curling up in the seat to face the window to see out into the new adventure I’d face, smiling softly as I sketched childish designs onto the paper. Feeling for the first time like one of those heroes in the adventure books father used to read to me once he came home from work. Looking down at the paper I fold it up and return it and the pencil to my pocket, wanting nothing more than to be home or at the very least father to be okay.
The train would stop and each of us in turn would sit up to check to see if it was our stop, but then it would roll along without a conductor coming to retrieve us. None of us knew just how big England could be or how green anything outside London looked.
It was late in the day when it finally stopped again and out compartment door slid open, I jerked awake from the sound, thinking of the worst things possible before realizing where I was. Peter and his siblings were kind enough to help me from the train with them. It wasn’t a station, hardly more than a platform claiming to be a place that actually existed. Slowing down, they all looked back at the train as it rolled away. Setting down my suitcase was kind of a grunt, I sit on it and look at them,
“Do you know who you’re all staying with?”
Peter nodded and double checked his tag, frowning as he looked around,
“Yes, it’s a Professor Kirke... He knew we’d be coming.”
Nodding, I smile and turn to look towards the road, hoping that they’d arrive soon. Though it was another hour before the horsed wagon appeared from over the nearby hill.
That night I had gotten terrible sleep, sharing a bed with strangers and other children for the first time in my life. Though Lucy and I were becoming fast friends, it wasn’t every day during a war you met someone the same age as you with schools being called off every few weeks for safety. A storm rolled in during the night and kept me awake, too scared to close my eyes.
When the next day came and we were all stuck inside, it was barley noon when I started to die from boredom. I wanted to explore the amazing house we were all staying in, to read the books with familiar titles like the ones my father would have in his study. The entire house felt like a smaller version of my father's work at the university. It was amazing to feel so lost yet so found in an instant.
“Peter, can we play hide and seek, please?”
Lucy was pouting and Peter looked mildly exasperated, giving Susan a look,
“But we’re already having so much fun.”
Susan glares and snaps the book closed, then Peter started to count. Much to the distaste of Edmund. Smiling broadly, I run off, mostly to explore then to actually hide. It was all like the adventure books, just in a giant house rather than in a tumbling forest or open plain field.
I could hear the Professors radio playing from his office, with the old Orquestra music quietly through the walls and pipes. Running up a set of stairs felt amazing, feeling for the first time in months much like the child I’d been before the war. Trying to duck into something I was rudely shoved out of the way by Edmund, Lucy had been right on his tail,
“I was here first!”
Scoffing, I hurry up another staircase with Lucy passing me, checking from rooms to hide in. Entering one I follow, hoping for a good hiding place only to find her removing a sheet from something massive. Gawking at it I look at her then to the massive wardrobe, we both could still hear Peter counting.
“This is so cool...”
I brush my fingers over the wood and jump when Lucy opened the door, feeling like a breeze of icy air blew in our faces. I head in first with Lucy following, her backing up to close the door but I faced ahead seeing the strangest thing in the world. Hurrying ahead, tripping on tree branches I fall into the snow and look around in amazement.
It was a snowy wonderland, something of a great imagination with a lamppost standing in the middle. Not something I’d ever been able to think up on my own. Looking up and back, I could see the light into the Spare Room shining just slightly through the crack of the wardrobe door. Looking at Lucy with a giant grin I stand to follow her, then get absolutely terrified by the creature before us. All three screams ring through the air.
Lucy and I hide behind the lamppost, trying to look around either side to get a good look at the man standing there. Though it wasn’t quite a man, it was rather strange for his pants were fur but his shoes appeared to be hooves. I look to Lucy and whisper,
“It’s a fawn...”
Slowing walk out from behind the post and moves to pick up the packages, slowing looking him up and down before speaking,
“Were you hiding from me?”
I smiled and moved to help while they talked, looking around in amazement at the snowy surrounding. When it snowed in London it never stayed this white for long, whether the street or the area it would either turn grey or brown, but this was the softest of white powder snow.
“Everything from-from the lamppost, all the way to castle Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean. Every stick and stone you see, every icicle is Narnia.”
I turn and look around, then look to Lucy,
“It’s an awfully big wardrobe.”
He seemed confused by then then chuckles slightly before speaking up,
“I-I’m sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.”
Standing up straight I take Lucy’s hand, smiling at him, letting her speak since she found Narnia first,
“Pleased to meet you Mr. Tumnus! I’m Lucy Pevensie,”
“And I’m Maude Crownly, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
We both stuck out our hands and I pulled my back awkwardly, looking down, usually a rather shy person. He had no clue what to do with her hand, so she showed him how to shake it, though both is us realized we didn’t know why people shook hands.
“Well then, Lucy Pevensie and Maude Crownly from the shining city of Wardrobe in the wondrous land of Spare ‘Oom. How would it be if you both came and had tea with me?”
My heart swelled and sank, looking back towards where the wardrobe was, he opened his umbrella to prevent any more snow falling onto his head and into the curls of his hair,
“Well thank you very much but I, we probably should be getting back.”
“Yes, but it’s only just around the corner.”
He made the both of us kind of jump before continuing,
“And there will be a glorious fire with toast and tea and cakes. And, perhaps, we’ll even break into the sardines.”
Lucy glances my way before looking back at Mr. Tumnus,
“I don’t know.”
He shifted his wait and got a slightly sad look on his face,
“Come on. It’s not every day I get to make new friends.”
She looked at me and I bite the corner of my lip before speaking up,
“I suppose we could come for a little while. If you have sardines...”
The last sentence was slightly sarcastic and Lucy giggled, the fact that sardines were a common thing to have with tea in Narnia was greatly odd.
“By the bucket load,”
He held up his umbrella for the three of us to fit under before hurrying off towards his place.
We had spent the day with Mr. Tumnus, enjoying the tea he offered, till it put both of us to sleep along with the enchanted lullaby. It hurt being betrayed by our new found friend, it was jarring. We only then found out about the witch and why the winter was so terrible. Feeling the fear of a witch for the first time, where its real and not just in a book of fairy tales. It was late when we returned to the wardrobe, we stopped outside it and turned to him,
“Will you be alright?”
He laughed nervously then started to cry, clearly scared of what would happen to him. Lucy scrambled and pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, passing it to him so he could dry his eyes,
“I’m sorry, I'm so sorry... Here.”
He tries to give back the handkerchief,
“No, keep it. You need it more than I do.”
“No matter what happens, I am glad to have met you both. You’ve made me feel warmer than I’ve felt in one hundred years. Now go, go.”
He touches out noses gently but spoke firmly. We glance at each other then back at him before hurrying past the lamppost, heading back into the wardrobe. Lucy fell out and continued through the house at a run to find everyone else. I stood there and backed up to stare at the wardrobe, already wishing to be back in Narnia. I could still hear Peter counting till Lucy yelled, frowning I look around then out the window. Struggling for a second, I pull out my father's old pocket watch and found it to just start ticking again, as if nothing had changed and no time had ever passed.
Over the next several days, the others pretended like Lucy and I were mad, like Narnia wasn’t real even when we saw it with our very own eyes.
It was a warm day and the great outdoors supposedly called us to go out and play cricket. I sat in the shade of a large oak tree with Lucy, drawing Mr. Tumnus likeness into the dirt with a stick. Suddenly I hear a loud crash and we all look up, staring at the house before hurrying inside. Within the professor's study Edmund had broken a window and knocked down a suit of armor.
“Well done Ed,”
Peter was clearly stressed about the situation at hand,
“You balled it!”
They nearly started to argue when we all heard Mrs. McCreedy start to storm up the stairs. Looking at all of them I quickly grab hold of Peter’s hand to keep up with them, running to find a place to hide from her. Upstairs, through rooms, down halls, all over the house, trying to find the right place to hide.
Edmund led us into the spare room and opened the wardrobe,
“Come on!”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
But we could hear the house keeper just outside, still looking for us, so into the wardrobe we ran. I followed close behind Edmund, knowing we’d come out the other side. Everyone shuffles through the coats and deeper in, complaining about the tight space of it all. Till we hit the cold air and fell into the snow. I looked up and around, smiling then turned to Peter and Susan.
We got to see their reaction of Narnia for the first time.
“This is impossible.”
I grinned at her reaction and fell back into the snow; it was freezing but it was amazing.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just your imagination.”
“I don’t suppose saying were sorry will quiet cover it.”
“No, it wouldn’t... But that might!”
Lucy throws a snowball at Peter and I quickly join in, laughing as we pelt each other with snow. Laughing at each other it just made us all colder, but it was fun, more fun than any of us had in possibly years. Peter hits Edmund in the arm which nearly causes an argument. Looking around with a big smile on my face I walk over when Peter starts to hand out coats, practically bouncing with excitement for the thought of going on an adventure.
Even when we were chased by the agents of the witch, dragged down tunnels while avoiding wolves and thinking we were caught by the witch it was jarring but it’s the type of books my father would read. We stayed huddled in a small snow cave Peter having hands over both mine and Lucy’s mouths, petrified of being caught. Then we do scream when Mr. Beaver ducks back down.
“Come on, come on! I hope you’ve all been good, because there's someone here to see you!”
My heart was racing and I crawl out first, wanting to see who was there if it made Mr. Beaver excited. Before us stood a man with a red coat, his hair was as white as the snow and several reindeer pulled his magical sleigh.
“Merry Christmas sir.”
“It certainly is Lucy, since you have arrived.”
Lucy walks towards him with a big smile and I followed, tugging my fur coat closer around me.
“We thought you were the witch...”
I fidgeted with the sleeves of my coat, embarrassed.
“Yes, well. In my defense Maude, I’ve been driving one of these longer than the witch.”
Stepping forward, Susan spoke up,
“I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia.”
“No, not for a long time, but the hope you have brought your majesties, is finally starting to weaken the witches' power. Still I dare say you could do with these.”
He turns with a laugh and pull the large bag from the back of his sleigh, starting to open it and push aside toys of all kinds.
“Presents!”
Lucy rushes forward to look inside, excited by the thought of something new. One by one we are all given weapons to use in our battle. Healing juice and a dagger for Lucy, a bow plus a horn to call for help for Susan, a sword and shield for Peter that was beautifully engraved, and a seemingly bottomless bag along with my own smaller sword for myself.
Father Christmas gave us the strength and hope to continue on, the tools we would need and a boost to our bravery. Putting my father's pocket watch into the bag, I look around at everyone getting comfortable carrying their new weapons before we continue toward the stone table.
When the ground turned from white to green, we all left our coats hanging on tree branches, I tied my sweater around my waist and ran ahead with Lucy. Both of us giggling and feeling so free. The air was turning warm, filling with voices, more voices then either of us had heard since leaving London.
Coming up to the camp grounds full of Narnian soldiers we slow and fall back to stand with Susan and Peter, staring at the larger creatures in mild fright. A horn gets blown from the hill, causing me to jump slightly and look around. Quickly getting lost in the surroundings of it all, it felt like a dream, more than any dream I’d actually had.
The further we walked into the camp, the more I felt at home in Narnia, in those moments I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Coming up to one of the largest tents around, several people had come to follow us in and Peter slows to a stop before pulling his sword lamely,
“We have come to see Aslan,”
He spoke awkwardly and looked around to check her was doing the right thing. Behind us the army took a knee and bowed their heads, my heart started to race and I looked to Peter to see what to do. He lowered his sword and faced the tent, so we all remained standing as Aslan, the great lion came out of his tent then and only then did we go to our knees and bow.
He was the most incredible creature I’d ever seen.
“Welcome Peter, son of Adam. Welcome Susan, Lucy and Maude, daughters of Eve. And welcome to you Beavers, you have my thanks, but where it the fifth?”
We then stood and Peter cleared his throat slightly,
“It’s why we're here sir. We need your help.”
I shift awkwardly and glance at Susan,
“We had a little trouble along the way.”
“Our brother has been captured by the white witch.”
Aslan nods his head slightly,
“Captured? How could this happen?”
Mr. Beaver steps forward, folding his paws,
“He betrayed them, your majesty.”
The army behind us quickly gets into an uproar, turning I look over my shoulder at them all, feeling worried they wouldn’t trust us or help Edmund. Peter looks around before standing up straighter,
“It’s my fault really. I was too hard on him.”
I take Lucy’s hand as we move to stand around Peter,
“We all were... But sir, he’s out family.”
I finally spoke up for the first time and none of them disagreed with me,
“I know young one, but that only makes the betrayal worse. This may be harder than you think.”
Aslan nodded towards Peter and they walked off together before several women, including Mrs. Beaver escorted Susan, Lucy and I to get changed into clothes better suited for Narnia. Along with getting washed up.
They were gentle and showed their care before letting the three of us have our space to clean up, giggling like mad women. That was until the wolves came, chasing us into a tree. It felt like for a few minutes the war was miles away, either war was miles away and yet here it was trying to eat us alive. The wolf tried to kill Peter but he got the better of him, which amazed all but Aslan. He knew Peter could do it before we did.
As the sun began to set, we all were settling in at camp the best we could, waiting for news on Edmund. We all cared and even thought I had little chance to get to know him, there was a connection to this family of strangers and I was coming to really care for them. When he did come back, the past was in the past, in more ways than one and we all showed him we cared for him.
Once we were all fed and rested, training began and even though it was deadly serious I don’t think I have ever had more fun in my life. It was truly a change in fate. Narnia was better than any dream and it’s real. The war was soon though and tensions were high, higher so when the White Witch came for Edmund’s blood. We knew the battle would be soon and that was when I started to get genuinely scared.
Our tents were quiet that night, the anticipation for tomorrow was building and I was completely unable to sleep. Much like the night I’d left London or the night my father died. Gently opening the bad, I push around the spare supplies inside and pull out the pocket watch, it was quietly ticking away. I could hear the swish of fabric from outside and sit up at the same time as Lucy. She gets up and quickly wakes us Susan. I get up and gather my stuff, pulling on a cloak and following the girls out.
The three of us followed Aslan quietly, sneaking behind him. It was another odd circumstance, being out in the middle of the night felt so normal here but in London it would have been just dangerous. We followed several feet behind and hid behind trees while trying to remain unseen. Aslan stalled and glances back,
“Shouldn’t you three be in bed.”
We kind of looked at each other before stepping forward and closer to him, I messed with the edge of my cloak,
“We couldn’t sleep.”
“Please Aslan, couldn’t we come with you?”
Susan kept her voice down and we all walked up to stand around him,
“I would be glad of the company, for a little while.”
We stood with him, I brushed a hand over his mane, incredible worried about him and why we were out in the night,
“Thank you.”
His voice was rough and he sounded far older than any of could have guessed or even preserved. I wrap my fingers through his fur, holding onto him while we walked.
The four of us walked for several miles in silence, just listening to the sounds of the night, Narnia was very different then England and the night air smelled of flowers.
“It is time. From here, I must go alone.”
“But Aslan-”
“You have to trust me. For this must be done. Thank you, Susan. Thank you, Lucy. Thank you, Maude. And farewell.”
He turned away from us and continued walking, I looked to Susan and Lucy wanting to know what they planned to do before I followed Aslan myself. He was out friend and wherever he was going, he shouldn’t be alone. Susan rested a hand on Lucy’s shoulder before nodding and hurrying a different direction. Biting my lip, I hurried to follow them, resting a hand on the hilt of my sword so it wouldn’t swing all over the place.
We came up and crouched behind a fallen tree, to see torches and part of the witch's army surrounding some stone structure. We looked at each other but stayed put, too shocked by the scene to do much of anything. I covered my mouth when they knocked him down, starting to tie him up. This is what the witch was capable of and it was terrifying.
“Why doesn’t he fight back?”
I looked at Susan then to Lucy, thinking about something I’d been told by my father, ‘A real leader, when he sees mistakes being made will talk to the mistake maker, not punish them but lift them up so they learn.’ I looked back towards where bound him.
It went silent for a moment before they started to band their weapons on the ground, I was shaking from both fear and anger. They were going to hurt him and there was nothing we could do.
“Tonight, the deep magic will be appeased! But tomorrow, we will take Narnia forever!”
We couldn’t hear what she said after that, my heart was racing till she shouted again,
“Die!”
It was like my whole world stopped, like all of Narnia held its breath as the great lion died. Tears fell down my face and I kept my hand over my mouth, preventing my own screams. Turning slightly, we all fell and held onto one another desperately. Sobbing into our fallen embrace.
We held onto each other until the witch and her troops were gone, then we made our way to Aslan, resting as if asleep on the stone table. We sat with him, wanting nothing more for him to wake up when we drifted to sleep on him, protecting his remains.
I woke up when the sun began to rise, brushing my fingers over Aslan with his shaved fur. It brought more tears to my eyes, though I hadn’t known Aslan long he had become a dear friend. Susan sits up and looks around, rubbing her eyes before gently shaking awake Lucy.
“We should go.”
She stepped down from the stone table and went to help Lucy, I jumped down with them shivering from the breeze.
“It’s so cold.”
Lucy and I spoke nearly at the same time, I wrapped my cloak around myself, trying to feel the warmth of spring that had just existed yesterday. Walking down the steps and away from this place, we all glances back before continuing forward. Then the ground shook and cracked, I fell to my knees.
“Susan!”
I turned to Lucy and followed where she looked before standing, gawking at the broken and empty stone table.
“Where’s Aslan?”
“What have they done?”
I brushed my fingers along the broken edge of the table, my heart aching before the sun shined in my eyes, blinking I looked toward it and my breath was taken away.
“Aslan!”
We all ran towards him, the past hours of heart ache washing away, the warmth of spring returning, the fear of a life without Aslan vanishing. I held onto his fur, listening to him but just so thankful he was alive.
“Climb on my back, we have far to go and little time to get there. You all may want to cover your ears.”
Lucy and I grinned at each other before climbing on behind Susan, then I covered my ears as Aslan roared his mighty roar. While a battle waged in a far-off field, we saved those who'd been turned to stone by the witch. Even helping in the battle, with Aslan on our side it was like they surrendered. Though our hearts stopped again when Edmund was wounded, my bag of holding had no healing properties but Lucy had that within the bottle at her waist.
Our family of five saved Narnia that day and our army traveled east, to the shining castle of the five thrones. Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean.
The halls shine and the thrones glittered, the say we were crowned was one of beauty, all of us dressed in the finest of clothes Narnia could offer. This castle was our home, a place built for us, and we didn’t know for so long. We walked with Aslan up to the thrones the first time, seeing a beautiful future ahead of us. Peter went to the middle throne, with Susan on his right and Edmund on his left, Lucy was on the other side of Susan and I was on the other side of Edmund.
“To the glittering eastern sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant.”
My heart was racing, it felt so unreal and perfect, Mr. Tumnus rested Lucy’s crown upon her head.
“To the vast central fields, I give you Queen Maude, the Thoughtful.”
Looking to Lucy, I was smiling before facing front again as Mr. Tumnus brought me my own crown to wear, I smile at him, having gaps in my teeth from where I’d lost them previously.
“To the great western wood, King Edmund, the Just... To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan, the Gentle... And to the clear northern sky! I give you High King Peter, the magnificent.”
We all took a step back and sat on our thrones, hearts racing and smiles bright.
“Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.”
Then the celebration started and Aslan left us, not for forever, but he was no tame lion. There was music and dancing, Edmund and I danced for quite a while, laughing and loving Narnia. The celebrations lasted for several days then came the time to actually rule and learn what that meant, but we were all ready for the challenge.
Most of that first spring and summer, we didn’t spend within the castle walls or even with each other. Away learning of the places in Narnia we were to all rule over, firstly the ones we were crowned for then to learn of the others to a lesser extent.
The vast central fields had once been covered in snow, with no one living there and now, farms were returning and people moves back to the homes of their ancestors. I learned how to tend plants and prep ground, spending that first spring and summer barefoot in the fields with Narnians and learning of my place in this world. Just as the others did, Lucy was upon ships learning to sail and fish, Edmund was in the woods learning to hunt and trade, Susan was in the south with larger villages learning the way their traditions held, and Peter spent his time in the north learning the ways of battle, how to be a predator instead of pray.
We saw each other nearly every week non the less, growing together and learning so much, and when fall came around we all returned to Cair Paravel and if anything, the time apart brought us closer together. The fall was cooler than the spring and people began to get scared, we did a little but we knew the witch was gone and that seasons were a normal and regular thing.
It was mid fall and I was practicing my sword work with Edmund down in one of the courtyards, Lucy sat on an old stump watching us work when it started to hail. At first none of us noticed it, to focused on our own activities. The ground started to turn white and it began to get cold, I looked to Edmund and my heart began racing. I could see the fear in his eyes, sliding my sword into its sheath before grabbing his hand and then Lucy’s pulling them inside.
“Peter! Susan!”
My call was more of a shriek, both Edmund and Lucy were stiff even as I dragged them further into the castle, trying to remember where the common room was, hoping that there would be a fire in there. I could hear running footsteps but my nerves were already on edge so I shove the other two behind me and draw my sword again, on Peter. He lifted his arms up in the air.
“Easy their soldier, what's the matter?”
Lowering it slowly, my hands were shaking.
“Peter, I... it started snowing.”
His eyes widen and he nodded, taking Lucy’s hand when she hurried to him.
“It’s going to be alright. Just a small storm. It’s winter then spring, it won’t last forever. When Aslan shakes his mane, there will be spring again. Well that already happened so there will be another spring.”
We might be kings and queens, but we were all still children. The winter we’d walked into left each of us scared in more ways than one. Peter led us to the common room and stoked the fire, making it far warmer than it needed to be but we could see the hail through the windows still. I sat on one of the many cushions and stared out the window at the hail before getting back up.
Lucy and Edmund sat by the fire, both kind of shivering. It was the first time we’d experienced cold since the White Witch was alive, we all assumed it would be bad. Looking at them I follow Peter out of the room, knowing he’d need help, knowing the Narnian’s would react just as badly or worse. Catching up quickly I take his hand and look up at him.
“To the first fall.”
He nods and squeezes my hand gently.
“To the first fall... You doing alright Maude?”
Smiling was a slight struggle, but I shrug.
“I’ll be alright. We have things to take care of anyways.”
He frowned and brushed his hand over my hair.
“You’re just as young as Lucy, yet you act like an adult... You should be in there with them.”
Smiling shyly, I kick at the skirt of my dress.
“I can sit on a throne and pretend to be warm. Back... somewhere I... I used to pretend to be warm.”
He nods slowly and stops me, turning me back around.
“Well go enjoy the warmth and comfort of the common room. Susan and I can handle the politics for a while.”
He took off my crown for a second, ruffling my hair before putting it back on my head. I smiled at him and walked back to the common room, feeling a bit sad by his reaction to me.
Returning to the room it was a livelier then when I left it, Mr. Tumnus taking up residents inside to join the warmth. Music was playing quietly and Lucy was back to her happy self, though Edmund still was staring out the window.
That winter was colder than any day in the last hundred years, blizzards were horrific and the only ones leaving Cair Paravel was Peter and Susan. Most of the that winter the three of us sat on our thrones and dealt with the politics that could come through the snow to the castle. Most nights we slept in the common room, dragging the feather beds from our rooms to sleep near the warmest fire.
Then we had spring again, when the snow melted away, the Narnians celebrated like we had won the war all over again, naming the celebration after us. A celebration of spring that would happen every year after. Anything before our lives in Narnia faded to void, feeling as if it were nothing more than a dream. My father’s pocket watch remained in the bottom of my bag for years.
When Mr. Tumnus told us of the white stags return to Narnia and what it could it, it wasn’t a question of if we’d go on the hunt, more so when we would go on the hunt. I spent time laughing with Lucy while we packed simple things of food and supplies for the trip. Brushing a hand through my hair I sighed heavily, my thoughts elsewhere for a moment.
“Maude, are you alright?”
It was Edmund who asked, having come up to put his bag on Phillip. I turned to him, smiling slightly shyly before nodding.
“Yes, quite alright just thinking of what we would wish for is all.”
That wasn’t what I was thinking about of course, but Edmund didn’t need to know what I was thinking.
“I think we’re all thinking that.”
He grins before being shoved by Peter as he came out to the stables with Susan. I laugh before climbing onto my own horse, Lillian. She was a beauty but no longer was one who liked my risky habits in battle.
“Are we going to stand around all day or go find this stag?”
With a shout of agreement, the others all climbed onto their horses and ran off ahead of Lillian and me. The wind blew through my hair as the horses' hurries through the woods, my braids catching in my crown.
The five of us were laughing like loons, loving the feeling of late summer early fall. We road for an hour before the white stag was spotted, it kept bouncing in and out of view. I was taking up the back of the line as usual, being the youngest among five royals didn’t often have its perks.
Lillian slowed and I pulled on the reins to make her stop, seeing her shortness of breath I slid off her back in a fluid motion. Patting her side, I smile brightly.
“Take a rest Lillian, I can run for a while. Catch up when you can.”
She bowed her head gravely.
“Thank you, your highness.”
Nodding firmly, I run ahead to try and catch up with the others. Soon being able to hear their voice I pick up the pace before nearly running smack into Edmund and Phillip.
“Have you all caught the stag without me?”
My smile was one of mischiefs' sarcasm but looking at all their faces it told me something was likely wrong. A lamppost stood in the area all alone.
“Spare ‘Oom.”
Lucy’s voice was quiet but the name rang a bell to me, as if from a dream. Then Lucy took off into the dense forest.
“Oh, not again!”
Peter shouted before the other three followed. Scowling I move to go around the dense trees to catch them all on the other side, starting to grin once I reached the other side. Waiting. I waited for several minutes before heading in and coming out the other side in a different spot then I had thought, looking around quickly I turn to Phillip.
“Did they come out?”
All the horses shook their heads and my heart dropped, I hurry to Phillip and climb onto his back, grabbing the reins and turning him roughly.
“Back to Cair Paravel, we need to send out a search party. Who knows where they disappeared to in there...”
He took off as fast as he could manage, I clung desperately to the reins, my heart racing. I glance back at the lamppost till it was no longer visible through the trees. The winds whipped through my hair violently, the pit in my stomach became bottomless. Riding through the gates I got off quickly and ran for the doors, lifting my skirts to get there faster. It was already quieter in Cair Paravel, as if somehow the building knew it needed to be in hushed tones.
I found out search party quickly and they searched that area for hours, only coming out when they found four crowns. I stood before them, the only one wearing a crown among a land of thousands, for the first time in my life I didn’t know what to do.
Within the first year of the four royals going missing, Telmarnies declared war on Narnia and her allies. Although I had grown up in Narnia, I grew more in the next five years than I had when the other four remained. Narnia needed their High King, so that was what I became not by title but, someone who tried to rule like Peter had, yet I was not Peter. I went from being Queen Maude, the Thoughtful to Queen Maude, the Fierce.
I didn’t think the name suited me, but it stuck soon after the first few battles on Narnian soil began. For five years, I ruled and controlled an army, one that was being slaughtered daily and yet would still choose to fight for someone so unskilled. I tried so hard to be the others, to know how the five of us worked together and make that into one person and I thought I succeeded.
We signed a treaty, giving both armies peace for the holiday, trying to negotiate what they wanted with Narnia. Time to recuperate and see what assets we had. I sat in my throne most of that day, trying to figure out what to do. Our armies were hungry and tired, there was no sign of true peace on the horizon and if we surrendered then everything any Narnian stood for would be lost.
It was late and I brought my things down to the treasury, putting my sword and bag within my chest. Looking around my heart ached at the faces that looked towards mw, if only they knew I was trying my best.
Returning to my room, I fell into a deep sleep.
Awakened in the middle of the night by the castle shaking, shouts and screams were I the air as Cair Paravel was attacked.
“Your Highness!”
A fawn girl came running in and grabbed my arms, pulling me from my bed and pushing me towards the door.
“You must hide your highness, run and hide!”
I pull away from her grip and rest my hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down.
“Why? I have a duty to protect Cair Paravel!”
She shook her head and began to push me again.
“They are after your life, they called for you and want your head on a pike!”
I grit my teeth, my anger beginning to boil, I went to reach for where my sword would typically rest at my waist only to remember I had foolishly left it in the treasury.
“They’ve already invaded the lower levels! You must go!”
“I cannot-”
“They don’t want just your head! Their monsters in men's clothing, please your highness, for the future of Narnia you must go.”
Nodding slowly, I head down the stairs, hearing my soldiers fight down in the throne room. I ran into the people I cared for most as they were both trying to fight and flee; Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers wished the same for me as the fawn girl did. Dressed in merely a night gown, taking a small bag of food from Mrs. Beaver, I fled. The head of my guard waited with Astrid, our fasted horse.
“Go your Majesty. Astrid will bring you someplace safe and hopefully return with you in the morning.”
I nodded and climbed on, giving the familiar centaur a hug.
“Till morning then.”
Gripping the reins Astrid took off through the side gates, running out into the trees. We were barely out of the gate when the Telmarine army was upon us. Arrows were shot at Astrid and I, horrible words shouted, and large dogs barked. I leaned down to give Astrid more speed, trying to avoid the flying arrows. Looking back, I could see Cair Paravel was under siege and many parts ablaze, including the tower I had called home. An arrow lands in my shoulder, making me shout and I fall off Astrid, thankful for the darkness as the Telmarine continue to follow her instead of noticing me.
Once they were past, I stand and pull the arrow from my shoulder, pressing a hand to it as I cursed all Telmarine especially their King Caspian. Continuing inland, my shoulder bled through the white gown. Pain wracked my body and I longed for my bag of holding, full of bandages along with other medical supplies.
Silent asking for a sign of a way to fix this I kept walking, coming into a ring of light, then nearly smack into the lamppost.
Turning quickly to face that patch of woods my heart sank and I looked around.
“Are you telling me to leave? Or will I find the others in there?”
There was nothing but silence. I face those woods and sigh, then turn to try and see Cair Paravel. All I could see through the trees was the light from the fire, my heart sank.
“Spare ‘Oom it is then...”
I turn back to the dense patch of woods and head in. It turned from trees to fur, then I ran into people all complaining before five of us toppled out of the wardrobe.
Memories quickly flood back, feeling more recent then the last twenty years I had lived in Narnia. Looking around quickly I smiled at Edmund, all of us smiling at each other before the door opened and the Professor walked in.
“What were you all doing in the wardrobe?”
Peter looked around at all of us before looking back to the professor.
“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you sir.”
He tossed the cricket ball back to Peter, the one that had broken the stained glass all that time ago, smiling and crouching down some.
“Try me.”
Quickly everyone breaks out into the tale of our life in Narnia, I kept my mouth shut only thinking about how Narnia would be taken over if we couldn’t get back soon. Wrapping Edmund in a hug I watch Peter and Lucy explain it all, the fifteen years we had lived there.
It shocked me to understand they thought I’d followed them into Spare ‘Oom, the five years I had lived without them completely unknown to them. The story lasted well into the night, till we all got tired and were helped to bed.
I didn’t even lay in bed for more than twenty minutes before I snuck down to the wardrobe with Lucy, trying to get back into Narnia.
“I don’t think you’ll get back in that way.”
I turn quickly with Lucy, facing the Professors who was sat in a chair in the corner of the room. Not a word even had to pass our lips before he answered the silent question.
“Well you see, I’ve already tried.”
“Will we ever go back?”
My voice was quiet and full of pain.
“Well I expect so, it will probably happen when you’re not looking for it.”
He offers each of us his hands, so we take them and start to head out of the room.
“I’ll say, it’s best to keep your eyes open.”
We left the spare room. The only sounds other than our footsteps was my fathers pocket watching ticking, making noice for the first time in a long time.
He helped us back to bed, then went to bed himself. Neither of us could sleep, nor could Susan so we went to the boy's room where they had already dragged the mattresses off the beds to the floor, trying to get some rest. The three of us joined the two of them and were able to get some sleep, like the winter nights in the common room when rain would pelt the windows.
We spoke of Narnia often those first few days, going outside and practicing with the professor's swords and armor, much to the distaste of Mrs. McCreedy. Soon enough though the memories of England grew stronger than the ones of Narnia, though none of us forgot. Feeling older than we were but young enough to still play.
Within months the Pevensies’ went back to London, I stayed with the professor while my mother was away in the war as a nurse, having completed her training soon before my grandmother passed. I studied and learned with the professor, we talked of Narnia often and only he knew that Cair Paravel had fallen.
The world of Narnia was mysterious and glorious, when they all saw and all believed, when we lived their we brought peace to the land.
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
you search the mountain (3/5)
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Pairing: Jaina Proudmore / Sylvanas Windrunner
Rating: M
Wordcount: 26,133
Summary: The borders of Kul Tiras are closed to all outsiders. Sylvanas, Banshee Queen, hopes to use the impending civil war in Boralus to her advantage, and thereby lure Kul Tiras to the side of the Horde. A Drust AU
Content Advisory: horror, blood, gore, typical Drustvar spooky deer shit
read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3
Despite the recently signed treaty -- or perhaps because of it -- Sylvanas did not hear from Jaina for nearly a week. It felt like a game. Like a childish staring contest, waiting to find who would be the first to blink. Even Nathanos pointed out that they should begin formal liaisons with Lady Waycrest in order to understand exactly what supplies and reinforcements she needed to fight off the Ashvane forces intent on invading eastern Drustvar. Sylvanas ignored him utterly, with orders to withhold any further gold or aid for the time being.
And then a rapping came at her door in Swiftwind Post.
Nathanos answered it. The moment he opened the door, the harsh winds made the fire splutter in the hearth, threatening to extinguish the flames. Sitting at her desk opposite the fire, Sylvanas listened even while she continued to read the latest reports from Zandalar.
“What is it?” Nathanos asked, his voice a gravelly murmur.
“It’s the bird, Ranger Lord,” came the voice of one of her Forsaken guardsmen. “I know we aren’t supposed to -- er -- ‘develop a rapport’ but he says he has a message for the Dark Lady.”
On cue, there followed a flapping of wings as Arthur flew inside and landed directly atop Nathanos’ head. To his credit, Nathanos remained perfectly still, holding the door open while Arthur made himself comfortable.
“Sorry! Sorry!” said Arthur, scrambling to right himself. “It’s just very windy out there. Couldn’t stand it for another second.”
His black feathers were sticking up in all directions, and he looked positively harried. For a raven.
Sylvanas lifted her attention from the parchment she had been reading. “Do make yourself comfortable,” she said sarcastically.
“Oh, why thank you! Don’t mind if I do.”
“I mind,” Nathanos growled, though his only motion was to shut the door firmly.
Arthur seemed unconcerned by this addendum, for he began to preen in an attempt to fix his feathers.
“Arthur,” said Sylvanas sharply.
“Hmm?” Arthur lifted a wing and began running his beak along the longer flight feathers.
“You had a message for me?” she reminded him.
“Right. Yes. I do.” Shuffling his tail, Arthur righted himself atop Nathanos’ head and said, “The High Thornspeaker has bid you come over for tea. Wait -- you don’t need to eat or drink anymore, do you? A meeting. She bids you come over for a meeting.”
“When?” Sylvanas enunciated the word very clearly, letting her irritation through despite herself.
“When it suits,” Arthur answered. “And by that I mean: now.”
How impatient humans were. And how mercurial. Rolling her eyes, Sylvanas set down the sheet of parchment and scraped back her chair to stand. “Where are we meeting?”
“Her house.”
Sylvanas’ steps slowed in her approach to the door. “At Gol Inath?”
“What?” Arthur sounded taken aback. “No. Nobody actually lives at Gol Inath. That would be terrible. And uncomfortable. And -”
“All right, yes. I get the point.”
Holding out her hand, Sylvanas transferred Arthur from Nathanos’ head to her own shoulder. An act which did very little to improve Nathanos’ mood; he glowered mutely at the raven as though he were a stain upon Sylvanas’ pauldron. But there was no point in denying Arthur’s place on her shoulder when he would end up there regardless of what she did.
“Hold down the fort,” she said to Nathanos before she left.
For all that Arthur had said ‘now’, it was a four day’s trek by horse to the Crimson Forest from Swiftwind Post. Sylvanas managed to get this down to three days by taking an eagle to Arom’s Stand, and then walking the rest of the way. And even then, Arthur had clung to her shoulder the whole trip. He did not seem to need to sleep, much to her dismay.
Sylvanas had expected Jaina to live in the heart of the Crimson Forest. Somewhere near the great tree of Gol Inath. Or perhaps in a hovel dug into the ground, like a wolf’s den. Maybe in a swamp like a bog witch. She did not expect Jaina to live in a nondescript cabin along the westernmost reaches of the Crimson Forest, where the woods met the cliffs, their branches raking against the overcast sky. The trees were set at a severe angle from the sea, whence the winds raced. Now, the treeline rolled with a slow-moving fog. It obscured the cliff’s edge, so that Sylvanas’ every step taken was wary. She could hear the roar of the nearby ocean. Sea salt scented the air, mingling with the smell of fresh damp earth and the darker smells of the forest.
The cabin was nestled amidst the trees. It peered out over the nearby cliffside through the mist. It was -- for lack of a better word -- cosy. It had a thatched roof and vine-clutched walls. There was an iron-wrought lantern lit beside the front door. The windows glowed with internal firelight.
It was not the sort of place a terrifying primal Druid lived. There wasn't a single cursed wicker effigy in sight.
Jaina herself was walking around the perimeter of the cabin. There was no way she could have spotted Sylvanas and Arthur approaching through the soupy fog, but she looked around when they got within a certain range. At that point, Sylvanas could feel something settling over her skin. As though she had just walked through a spider's web. The wards allowed her to pass however, and she continued striding forward.
"You're early," Jaina remarked, when Sylvanas was near enough.
"I was told I should arrive urgently," was Sylvanas' reply.
"Really? I wasn't expecting you for another day."
Sylvanas shot Arthur a scathing look, and he ducked his feathery head in an almost sheepish manner.
"Well, would you look at the time!" Arthur said far too loudly. "I gotta go. Bye!"
And with that, he flew off from Sylvanas' shoulder, heading deeper into the trees.
When Sylvanas turned from watching his retreat, Jaina was looking at her with an expression of calm amusement. Her skull mask was nowhere to be seen. Even her robes were more casual than during their past encounters. She had foregone the druidic trinkets and the cloak, leaving only a comfortable set of robes that she had hiked up around her knees to free up her stride. Her feet were muddy and bare. Fresh scratch marks adorned her skin in narrow red lines from where she had pushed through the thorny underbrush. Despite this, the robes were fastened high enough at her throat that her neck was covered. Perhaps to ward off the chill in the air.
"Come on in, then." Jaina motioned for Sylvanas to follow her.
Sylvanas did so without questioning why she was here. At the front door, Jaina washed her feet in a pail of water that had been left outside for just that purpose. She shot Sylvanas' boots a pointed look. Bending over, Sylvanas unbuckled her greaves and boots. She left them beside the door alongside her weapons before she was ushered inside.
The interior of the cabin was warm and bare-timbered. Along the wall nearest the door, the skull mask had been hung on a peg as though it were a commonplace gentleman's hat. As though Jaina sometimes were too preoccupied, and would have forgotten to wear it out and about if not for its strategic location by the exit. Jaina moved through the house with a familiarity that spoke of years of dwelling here. She crossed over to the fireplace and swung a blackened kettle over the flames.
"Tea?" she asked.
"No, thank you," Sylvanas demurred.
With a shrug, Jaina went about preparing a pot for herself, leaving Sylvanas to stroll about the main floor. The place was crammed with books and scrolls. Every nook and cranny heaped up with them. They were stacked in corners. They were jammed into shelves built along the walls. They crowded the little table before the fireplace, and even the stairs leading to a loft where Sylvanas could just spy a bed. To climb those stairs would have required someone to pick their way up each step along a narrow path precariously perched with old tomes and a leftover cup of tea teetering near the top rail.
Picking a book at random from a nearby shelf, Sylvanas inspected its leather-bound cover without any real interest in its contents. “Where did you get all of these?”
“Libraries,” Jaina answered vaguely without turning around.
Sylvanas lifted an eyebrow at the title of another book’s spine. It was a rare Thalassian text that she herself had only ever heard about in her studies at home. “Drustvar doesn’t strike me as a place that is teeming with libraries. Especially not libraries with books like these.”
“Some of them I inherited from Ulfar. Others I was gifted by Lucille.”
Shuffling idly through a few pages, Sylvanas snapped the book shut between her hands. “And the rest?”
Jaina made a non-committal sound. “The rest I borrowed, you might say. From Dalaran.”
Sylvanas paused. Then, she placed the book back in its place. “So, when you’re not terrorising the local population, you steal books from the Grand Library of the Kirin Tor.”
“Just another one of my charming hobbies,” Jaina drawled. She finished spooning the proper amount of tea leaves into the pot and stoppered the jar, setting it aside. “I used to think it was a game when I was younger. Teleporting into the Violet Citadel and raiding the Grand Library for a new book to read before they could figure out I was even there.”
“I fail to see how triggering the wards of the world’s most powerful wizarding city could be considered a game.”
“Oh, the wards were the best part. They’re fun little puzzles, and you have to solve for the exact right piece to get in without being noticed.”
"You're mad."
Jaina laughed, and the sound was surprisingly light. "Maybe."
"Were you ever caught?"
"Once." Jaina leaned back in her seat, waiting for the water to boil. "But I just pretended to be an Archmage's apprentice, and they let me go pretty promptly. I was young. And afterwards, I was a lot more cautious about my little dalliances outside of Drustvar."
Sylvanas turned back to perusing the shelves. In one corner of the room there was a pantry stuffed full of goods, both fresh and preserved, home gathered and even purchased from the markets of Corlain. Sylvanas could recall a few goods in particular from the weekend markets, but she had no memory of seeing anyone matching Jaina's description there. Perhaps the locals left offerings of food at the edge of the Crimson forest, as if to a vengeful god living nearby. Or perhaps, given Jaina's obvious predilection towards sneaking into places, she had simply disguised herself with a spell and walked through the markets without a care in the world. Both seemed equally likely.
"And Ulfar let you go?" Sylvanas asked.
"As if he had a choice. I was -- how would my brothers put it? -- a filthy little bilge rat brat."
Sylvanas huffed with laughter. "That sounds about right."
"About me? Or about my brothers?"
"Yes." She aimed a smirk over her shoulder at Jaina, who appeared unfazed. "I have siblings as well, you know."
"Let me guess..." Jaina held up her hands as though framing Sylvanas in a canvas picture. "Middle child?"
"Says the youngest. I bet you were spoiled rotten."
Jaina's smile slipped. "Being the baby in the family only got me so far. If anything it made things worse in the end."
With a hum of understanding, Sylvanas dragged her fingers along the spines of a row of books. Motes of dust wheeled in the air in their wake. She paused when she arrived at a wad of pages that had been stuck between two books. There were noises behind her of Jaina swinging the kettle away from the fire and filling the teapot. With her host distracted, Sylvanas dug out the pages, careful to shield her actions with her body.
"Find anything of interest over there?" Jaina asked.
"Why? Are you afraid that I'll steal them?" Sylvanas shot back, keeping her tone light even as she managed to pry the pages free. They were pretty firmly stuck between the books, and the threat of tearing the wafer-thin paper persisted until she had loosened them enough.
"I was about to say you could borrow one, actually."
"According to you, those two things are the same."
A snort of laughter, the creak of iron as Jaina hung the kettle back into place, then the gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain. Turning over the first page in her hand, Sylvanas went very still. One edge of the pages were ragged, as though they had been ripped out of a book. And on the first sheet there was a drawing labelled: 'Fig. 66 - The Hero in Thros.' The drawing was done in a familiar style, all in cross-hatched ink, sketched by a studious hand. It portrayed a man hanging by the neck from a tree. He was impaled through the chest by a broken sword, his toes dangling over a body of water. A massive raven crouched on his shoulder. It was plucking out his eye and eating it.
A sudden chill washed over her despite the warmth of the cabin. Her thumb traced over the side of the image as she studied it.
Behind her, Jaina sighed, and her chair creaked as though she had just leaned back. "Come sit down. Let's chat."
Sylvanas had the urge to steal the pages, to hastily stuff them into a leather pouch at her belt and cause a scene which allowed her to leave without Jaina being any wiser of her actions. It would be a retributive kind of justice. A theft for a theft. Surely, Jaina wouldn't notice the missing pages anytime soon. But instead, Sylvanas folded the pages back up and put them where she had found them. When she turned, it was to find that Jaina was blowing on her mug of tea, which steamed in her hands.
"Chat," Sylvanas repeated. "About what exactly?"
Jaina must have noticed the sudden chill in Sylvanas' voice, for her head swung towards her with a startled frown. "About us. The Horde and Kul Tiras. About our plans moving forward."
"Is that all?"
Slowly, Jaina lowered her mug so that it was cradled in her lap. "What else do you think this is?"
"You tell me. You're the one who invited me here, after playing hard to get." Hearing her own words, Sylvanas' eyes widened fractionally. "Ah. I see. So, that's what this is about."
Jaina's face screwed up in confusion. "What?"
Reaching for her gauntlets, Sylvanas began to unbuckle them. She slid them from her hands, pulling off the gloves beneath them as she went. She approached the long, low-slung couch before the fireplace, tossing the gloves and gauntlets onto the backs of the cushions. "If you had told me this was what you wanted to begin with, we could have avoided this whole song and dance. Honestly, what a bore."
Jaina watched Sylvanas' actions with increasing bewilderment. Yet her gaze followed every small section of exposed pale skin beneath layers of armour. When Sylvanas began to unbuckle her pauldrons and cloak, draping them over the back of the couch as well, Jaina said, "I have no idea what you're implying."
"I've never been that inclined to using this as a means of negotiation, but I suppose you aren't so bad." The gorget was cast aside, and Sylvanas ran a bare hand through her hair. It was bleached in undeath, a pale mockery of its former golden hue. "If you would like to help me with the cuirass, this would all be a lot easier."
"Help you with your -?" Finally, realisation dawned on Jaina's face. Her jaw dropped. And then she began to laugh. It sounded equal parts amused, incredulous, and nervous. "What? No! This isn't -! No. I don't know how you could have possibly gotten that impression."
Hands freezing on the stays of her cuirass, Sylvanas shot her a disbelieving look. "You're serious."
Jaina managed to school her expression, but for the tell-tale curve of her lips in a smile, and the slight pink tinge to her cheeks. "Very serious. This is not a seduction attempt. Though, I'm flattered you would consider it. I think?" She lifted her cup of tea to her mouth for a contemplative sip. "Yes, I've decided I'm flattered."
"Then why have you brought me here? Surely you must want something."
Rolling her eyes, Jaina cupped her mug between her hands. "If we're going to be working together, then I want to get to know you better." Sylvanas’ expression must have been skeptical, for Jaina straightened in her seat, looking indignant. “I mean it. I just want to talk.”
With a lilting hum, Sylvanas rounded the couch. She pushed aside her various articles of armour, and sat down. She did not bother putting it all back on just yet. Not when Jaina’s good eye lingered along the hints of Sylvanas’ figure beneath all that remaining leather and chainmail, before she realised exactly what she was doing and shook her head, as though annoyed with herself.
Sylvanas casually crossed her legs at the knee and leaned back, slinging one arm over the top of the cushions. “Ask your questions, then,” she permitted in a magnanimous tone that made Jaina snort into her cup of tea.
Despite the approval, Jaina did not say anything immediately. She thought for a moment. “What is your next step? After Kul Tiras, I mean.”
“Do you mean: do I intend to wage a pointless war with the Alliance, during which thousands of lives will be lost all for the sake of seeing Horde banners spread across a map?” Sylvanas sneered at the idea. “No. I won’t roll over for the Alliance, but I won’t fight them without good reason, either.”
“So, you think there can be peace between your factions?”
Sylvanas toyed with a frayed edge of the pillow. “I think peace is only permitted when people have nothing to gain.”
“That’s very pessimistic of you.”
“Dying a few times does that.”
For some reason that reply made Jaina’s brows furrow. She tapped at the sides of her mug, then asked, “Do you -?”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Sylvanas raised a finger and waggled it as though at a spoiled child. “For every question you ask, I get to ask one in return. You want to be fair to your new ally, don’t you?”
With a huff of irritation, Jaina sipped at her tea and nodded for Sylvanas to continue.
Carefully watching for Jaina’s reaction, Sylvanas asked, “If your brother had lived, if he had become the Lord Admiral and this civil war had never happened, what would you do?”
Jaina answered without a hint of hesitation, “I would attempt to mend bridges between the Drust and the Kul Tirans, starting with my influence with House Waycrest.”
“Your ambitions are rather…” Sylvanas sought the right word. “...lacklustre.”
“And yours are rather megalomanic,” Jaina shot back.
Sylvanas merely shrugged off the accusation.
“My turn.” Sitting forward in her seat to pour herself another cup of tea, Jaina said, “Do you like being Warchief of the Horde?”
“It is an honour, and a title I am proud to bear,” Sylvanas said the words like a mantra she told her constituents. The only thing Orcs loved more than strength was honour. Or at least the loose concept of it.
“Yes, but do you like it?”
The immediate acerbic response died in Sylvanas’ mouth. She narrowed her eyes, her tongue running over the backs of her teeth in quiet contemplation. “I like power. I like the control it gives me. Do I like being Warchief?” Sylvanas tilted her head side to side as though weighing two options in her mind. “No more than I liked being Ranger-General, I suppose. But most of all I despise being helpless. Weak. At the beck and call of others. That is a fate I will not endure again.”
Jaina hummed an understanding note. “I understand your past has been fraught -- for lack of a better word. The Emerald Dream can sometimes offer catharsis, if you have the right guide. I can take you back, if you wish.”
“Is that what you did with your horrible wicker man in the woods the first time I was trying to find Gol Inath?” Sylvanas’ lip curled. “I have no desire to Dream again. Nor will I ever.”
“Suit yourself,” Jaina muttered into her mug.
Sylvanas gestured towards the scar on Jaina’s face. “How did you get that?”
Reaching up with one hand, Jaina traced the scar that slashed down the right side of her brow and cheek. Her blind eye peered from between the cage of her fingers. “I was foolhardy and brash,” she answered with a tight smile. She lowered her hand. “It’s a wound of overconfidence. I rushed in and my opponent dipped when I thought he was going to dash, so to speak. And I paid the price for it.”
Jaina was dodging the question, but Sylvanas could not deny that she herself had done the same. Instead she remarked, “I’m amazed your eye survived intact.”
“It didn’t,” Jaina said darkly. “But it’s my turn, now.” She waited for Sylvanas to motion her to continue, and then asked, “Are there times you wish you were still alive?”
The contest of who would blink first was back. Sylvanas was strongly reminded of a childhood game she and her siblings used to play. Two truths and a lie. Each player had to guess which of the three statements was false. Vereesa always lost. She was too easy to read.
Now, Sylvanas wondered if this were really an exercise about building trust -- as Jaina had implied -- or if it were only a means of sussing out the other player’s tell. A pity for Jaina. Sylvanas was an expert at this game. The trick was to cheat and always tell the truth.
How that truth twisted itself to meet reality was another proposition entirely.
“Yes. All the time.” The truth wrenched itself from Sylvanas’ lips in a hiss that made the fireplace flicker. “Do you ever wish you had been sent to the Tidesages or the Kirin Tor, instead of being smuggled off to the Drust?”
The firelight played across Jaina’s face, casting her blind eye in shadow so that it seemed to peer like a nocturnal animal’s through the gloom. “Yes,” she said softly. “All the time.”
A log in the fireplace cracked and popped. Jaina set down her tea on the table in order to lean forward and prod at the fire with an iron poker that had been leaning against her seat for just that purpose. She set the poker back down, but left her tea on the table. When she spoke she seemed to address the hearth, “How many times have you died?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Do you want to finish the game?” Jaina countered, turning her head back towards Sylvanas.
So, she thought it was a game, too. Convenient. Baring her teeth in a grim smile, Sylvanas said, “Three times.”
A strange expression flickered across Jaina’s face, but it left as quickly as it had come. Sylvanas tried to figure out what exactly it had meant, why that number was significant, but Jaina was watching her expectantly for another question. And so Sylvanas asked, “When you Dream, what do you see?”
Jaina’s mouth opened, then shut again. She busied herself with unfastening the tucked up hems of her robes so that they hung around her ankles once more. Finally, she said far too casually, “I see many things in the Emerald Dream.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Shooting Sylvanas a bitter look, Jaina steeled herself before saying, “I see a tree that grows from the sea. Its canopy reaches the stars. Its roots pierce the depths. I am hanging from its branches. I see my father’s flagship wrestling the waves. He stands on the quarterdeck and yells every vile curse he can think of at me. He calls me a plague upon his House. He calls me the ruin of Kul Tiras. And beneath the shadow of the tree, the Great Fleet burns, and I can hear-”
She cut herself off, clearing her throat and looking away towards the hearth once more, as though it might offer her some solace.
“Yes, that sounds very cathartic,” Sylvanas said dryly.
Drawing herself up, Jaina grabbed her tea from the table and took a heady gulp. “My Dreaming is different. It’s -” she grimaced. “- compromised. I can guide people through, but when I enter by myself, things get complicated.”
Sylvanas sighed. “Trust a Druid to never just give a straight answer. What cryptic nonsense.”
“Like yours are any better.” Jaina tried to regain her airs of nonchalance, but it was ruined by the way she kept fiddling with the now empty mug in her lap. “Do you really think we can win this war?”
A slow confident smile tugged at the corner of Sylvanas’ mouth. “Now that I’m here? Absolutely.”
Jaina shot her an exasperated look. “Are you always this cocky?”
“Is that another question?”
Waving her away, Jaina said, “No, no. It’s your turn again.”
Sylvanas thought of hanged men. She thought of pages torn out of books. She thought of Gorak Tul, of ancient Drust, of secrets stashed between dusty tomes in Jaina’s personal library. Leaning forward on the couch, Sylvanas rested her elbows upon her knees. “Why don’t you like Arthur talking about what happened in Thros?”
Immediately Jaina’s face hardened. Her once open and amiable airs vanished like a whirl of smoke in a gale. Gone were the teasings of camaraderie, the mutual probing for information -- parry, riposte -- and in its place an unyielding quality in her gaze. Even without the mask and the dressings of the High Thornspeaker, she was once again that terrifying figure who loomed in the maw of Gol Inath, crowned in bone and blood and starlight.
“I think we’re done with our game for today,” Jaina said with a voice like cold iron. “You may show yourself out now, Sylvanas. No doubt we will be seeing each other again soon.”
--
A gale was spitting down rain at Swiftwind Post. Sylvanas stood at the window of the second floor command building. She watched the tussock grass and heath far below the hills billowing in the wind like a sea of copper and verdigris. The land of eastern Drustvar was dotted with new snow. Patches of white gathered in the saddles of hills and the corners of valleys. Even now the wind drove the bluffs with flecks of white mixed through with rain. The air held a biting chill that would only continue to deepen as the land settled into its winter months with the inevitability of the grave.
Sylvanas’ personal quarters were bare. There was a bed with dark cotton sheets, in which she never slept. A single unoccupied chair crouched in one corner, its legs spidery; they creaked under the slightest weight. She had brought no personal effects with her to Kul Tiras. Indeed, she kept no personal effects in Grommash Hold either. Any scraps dear to her were locked away in the Undercity, or otherwise buried and decaying in Windrunner Spire. This room on Swiftwind Post was a mere placeholder. A simulacrum of personal space. A place where she could -- upon occasion -- be alone with her thoughts. It might as well have been a broom cupboard.
She was looking north, as if trying to see a glimpse of the landscape in that direction. But not even her gaze could pierce the veil of rain and snow that blurred the distance into a canvas of faded white. Barrowknoll was a three day’s march north of their current position. She would need to walk the ground there herself before long.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Anya’s reports. Only that she did not trust this place to be what it seemed. And there was something about Barrowknoll that Jaina was refusing to tell her. It made Sylvanas uneasy.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Sylvanas did not turn around. Her reflection in the glass painted a grim overlay to the landscape beyond. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Nathanos stepped inside. Snow melted on his shoulders. He bowed. “You have guests.”
“Who?”
“Lady Lucille Waycrest.”
Sylvanas remained still as a statue, her hands clasped behind her back. “I will receive her here. Have her come up.”
Executing another shallow bow, Nathanos murmured, “Yes, my Queen.”
When he departed, he left the door open a sliver. The sound of voices drifted up the stairs, followed by the hesitant creak of footsteps on the stairwell. Sylvanas did not need to turn around to know that Lucille was dawdling just outside the room; she could hear the intrusion of her breathing, of her furiously beating heart.
“Do you think I am going to devour you in my lair?” Syvlanas drawled, keeping a close eye on the window, even while using the reflection in the glass to see what lay behind her.
Lucille’s reflection cautiously pushed the door open a little wider, but she still did not cross the threshold. “You do seem the type, you know.”
Sylvanas smiled to herself, and with her back turned her amused expression was not visible from the door. “If only your friend in the woods treated me with such caution.”
“She doesn’t scare easily.”
“So, I gathered.” Turning around at last, Sylvanas fixed Lucille in place with her gaze. “What can I do for you today, Lady Waycrest?”
Lucille stepped inside, bracing herself as though for a blow. “Quite the opposite, actually. You once asked me if there was something I could do for you.”
Now, that piqued Sylvanas’ interest. She leaned her shoulder against the window frame. Her armour scraped against the wood there. “Yes. I remember.”
“I have someone who needs shelter, and has sought me out for it. But if I were to give it to them, I would put a target on both our heads.”
Sylvanas lifted an eyebrow. “I fail to see how sheltering someone for you gives me anything of use.”
Shaking her head, Lucille said boldly, "You are mistaken, Sylvanas. I am doing you a favour."
Upon hearing her name, Sylvanas’ face darkened. Her eyes blazed, but when she spoke her voice was deadly quiet. "You will call me 'Dark Lady' or 'Warchief.'"
Lucille took an abortive step back, only to steel herself. "But Jaina calls you Sylvanas."
"You are not Jaina."
Nervously, Lucille wet her lower lip. Still, she held her ground. “Maybe not. But I have something you want, even if you don’t know it yet.”
Arms crossed, Sylvanas tapped her fingers against her opposite arm. The motion made a metallic click every time her clawed gauntlets touched her armour. “And if I do this for you? What do you expect in return?”
“Ten thousand soldiers,” said Lucille without a hint of hesitation.
Sylvanas blinked. “I’m sorry.” She pretended to shift her hood as though it had obstructed her ears. “I thought I just heard you say you want me to nearly double your forces in exchange for giving a single person shelter.”
Back straight, jaw squared, Lucille nodded. “That’s right.”
“I’m struggling to tell whether your intention was to make me laugh, or to make me angry.”
“Just -” Lucille waved her over. “- come downstairs? Please? I’ve brought my guest with me.”
Nathanos had mentioned guests. Plural. And Sylvanas would be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued by the boldness of Kul Tirans, if nothing else.
Pushing away from the window, Sylvanas strode towards the door. When she brushed past Lucille, she growled, “If this is a waste of my time, then I’m going to be very irritated.”
“It won’t be,” Lucille insisted, but she sounded less sure of herself when Sylvanas was glaring at her over her shoulder than when Sylvanas was safely across an empty room.
The stairs did not creak beneath Sylvanas’ feet when she descended to the first floor, though the creaking came when Lucille followed closely after her. Voices continued to murmur from downstairs, growing louder with every step Sylvanas took. When she reached the bottom step and turned, she froze, her ears canting up in shock.
Katherine Proudmoore was seated in a chair by the fire. She was engaged in a pleasant conversation with a Highmountain Tauren druid standing beside her, who was serving her tea. Sylvanas had not even been aware that they stocked tea at Swiftwind Post, but apparently they did when the Lord Admiral visited. Katherine’s legs were crossed. A silver falcon-headed cane leaned against one side of her chair.
When the Tauren noticed his Warchief’s presence, he jerked upright, nearly scraping his impressive rack of antlers against the ceiling. The teapot seemed sized for a gnome when clutched between his massive hands.
For her part, Katherine merely turned to look in Sylvanas’ direction, calmly sipping at her cup of tea. “Oh, good. You’ve finally deigned to grace us with your presence.”
Sylvanas regained her composure quickly. She inclined her head towards Katherine. “Lord Admiral. I was not expecting to see you so soon.”
“Lucky you,” Katherine said dryly. “I would stand to greet you, but -” she tapped the head of her cane with her elbow. “- needs must.”
Eyes flicking towards the Tauren, Sylvanas jerked her head to the door. Without question, he set the teapot down and departed with a bow.
Sylvanas approached, placing her hands behind her back. “An old war wound or a new one?”
Shrugging, Katherine sipped at her tea. “A bit of both.”
Sylvanas stopped by the fireplace. There were no other seats, save her own behind the large desk on the other side of the room, and one across from it for the rare occasion when one of her rangers or generals were delivering a report. She cocked her head curiously down at Katherine, then looked over at Lucille. “Why did you bring her to me here and not to -?”
Before Sylvanas could finish her sentence, Lucille shook her head sharply from where she stood at the foot of the stairs. Sylvanas stopped speaking, her mouth shutting with a click of fangs. Katherine frowned between the two of them.
“Bring me to whom?” Katherine asked, lowering her teacup and saucer so that they rested upon one knee.
Lucille did not say anything, but she was still giving Sylvanas a significant look that spoke volumes.
“Nobody,” Sylvanas lied smoothly, her face giving away nothing. “I only meant to inquire as to why Lady Waycrest cannot shelter you herself.”
Katherine appeared entirely unconvinced by these antics. Her storm-steel gaze moved to Lucille, trying to see if she would be the first to crack, but Lucille held her ground. Eventually, Katherine turned her attention back to Sylvanas, and she explained, “My enemies know that my last base of power is within Drustvar. What with my family being from the region originally. Lucille is a distant niece, of sorts. I knew she wouldn’t turn me away, should I be desperate.”
“I see.” Sylvanas did not mention that Katherine had called Lucille ‘a paltry ally’ during their last discussion, though she was sorely tempted to do so. Instead, she said, “And you don’t want to give your position away by running directly into the safety of Waycrest Manor.”
“It’s best that my exact location remains unknown. For now, in any case.”
“Which begs the obvious question.” Sylvanas took a step closer, so that she stood between Katherine and the fire, so that she was silhouetted in flame. “Why?”
Lips pursed, Katherine picked up her cup of tea once more. She seemed to mull over her answer in the dregs, before draining them as if for courage. “The Great Fleet is in turmoil. Lord Stormsong has declared himself Lord Admiral on the basis that I have no Heir, and therefore must give up my claim to the title. He has children of his own. His line is secure.”
From the sidelines, Lucille added, “He also controls the Tidesages, who are assigned to every major ship of the line.”
But Katherine waved that detail away impatiently. “Yes, but that is not what swayed over half the Navy to fly the colours of House Stormsong.”
“And what is your plan?” Sylvanas pressed. “How do you intend to win back the Navy’s loyalty?”
At that, Katherine’s eyes flashed. Glowering at Sylvanas, she set aside her cup of tea and sat up in her seat. “The Great Fleet of Kul Tiras remains devoted to the Admiralty. That is not within question. This is a problem of succession, not of loyalty.”
“Then who do you intend to name as your Heir?” Sylvanas gestured towards Lucille with a sneer. “Her?”
Lucille looked affronted at the notion. Meanwhile, Katherine shook her head sharply. “Certainly not. Lucille hasn’t a drop of Proudmoore blood in her. Whoever it is must be related to Daelin’s line, or the balance will never be restored. As soon as the Ashvanes and Stormsongs have finished sweeping up Drustvar, they will turn on each other, and Kul Tiras may know civil war for generations.”
And yet for reasons unknown, Lucille had stopped Sylvanas from mentioning Jaina’s name at all. She could tell her anyway. Doubtlessly both Katherine and Jaina would be in her debt.
But instead Sylvanas smiled. “Well, well. How times change,” she murmured. She approached Katherine’s chair and picked up the falcon-headed cane. “One moment you did not want my help, or even to keep my company. Now you need both.”
Katherine’s expression was pinched and sour. “Elves always did love the sound of their own voices. Spit it out. What do you want in return?”
For a moment Sylvanas merely toyed with the cane, tracing the falcon’s beak with her thumb. When she put pressure beneath the curved beak, the grip came away, revealing that it was in fact a sword cleverly disguised as a mere walking implement. Admiring it, Sylvanas sheathed the weapon once more.
“Nothing.” Sylvanas handed the cane back over to Katherine. “Yet. You may stay at our encampment on the Eastern Cliffs near Falconhurst. You will be safer there. It’s further from the action.”
Snatching the cane sword from Sylvanas’ hands, Katherine snapped, “I didn’t spend the last six years of my life at sea commanding Azeroth’s greatest Navy only to hide from battle like some milksop.”
“I think the Golden Fleet of Zandalar might have opinions about that particular statement, but I’ll not quibble over semantics.” She stepped away from Katherine so that she was no longer looming over her. “You may remain at Swiftwind Post, but I am assigning you a protection detail.”
Propping her cane back against the side of the chair, Katherine sniffed. “Jailors, more like.”
“Your bodily safety is of utmost importance. And, I’ll admit -” Sylvanas said, “I cannot permit you to just waltz about my camp without some manner of escort. If you speak with me beforehand, I can arrange for my people to take you wherever you need. Within reason, of course.”
An expression of hastily restrained disgust flickered across Katherine’s features. “You don’t mean for my guardsmen to be Undead, do you?”
Sylvanas levelled a dark look at her. “You come crawling to my doorstep,” she hissed. “and you have the gall to -?”
To her surprise, Katherine sighed. She brought a gloved hand to her face and rubbed at her brow. When Katherine looked back up, the steel had gone from her shoulders. In the place of the implacable Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, there sat a tired old woman. Her voice was warmer, softer, more sincere. “Forgive me, Sylvanas. That was inappropriate, given the circumstances.”
Scowling, Sylvanas bit back the acrid taste of indignation and something uglier that brewed in her gut. She did not realise the fire had dimmed in the presence of her anger until the shadows lengthened across the room. It was a challenge to keep her words low and even. “They will be Tauren, if you prefer.”
To that Katherine said nothing. She merely inclined her head in quiet acceptance.
From the base of the stairs, Lucille cleared her throat. “So, she can say your name, too?” she accused, pointing at Katherine.
Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “Last I checked, you’re not the Lord Admiral, either.”
Sylvanas walked towards the front door and opened it. A quick command was all it took for the Highmountain Tauren from before to tower in the doorframe. He needed to turn sideways and duck down in order to step inside. Once through the door, he stooped, his massive shoulders remaining hunched.
Sylvanas gestured to him. “This is Tatanka Thunderchaser. He will be your escort and primary point of contact. Tatanka,” she pointed to Katherine. “This is the Lord Admiral, and your new ward until I say otherwise.”
Katherine was rising to her feet, one hand using the cane and the other pushing off from the arm of the chair. She took inventory of Tatanka’s appearance, his dark shaggy fur, his palmate antlers, the streaks of bold red paint around his face and arms. When he bowed to her, she returned the gesture with surprising grace for someone who walked with a heavy limp in every other step.
“I don’t suppose you have any more of that excellent tea of yours?” Katherine asked as she crossed the room towards him. “Honestly, you could make a fortune smuggling the stuff into Boralus.”
His answering chuckle was a deep rumble in his chest. “I’m not much of a smuggler, Lord Admiral, but I’m sure we can manage another cup for an honoured guest.”
When he offered his arm, she took it. As the druid was showing Katherine out -- the two of them already engaged in friendly conversation once more -- Lucille went to follow but Sylvanas stopped her with a hand at her upper arm.
“Not you.” Sylvanas murmured. “I would like a few more words with you before you slip away again, Lady Waycrest.”
Lucille winced, and Sylvanas loosened her grip. She hadn’t thought she had been holding her so tightly, but that seemed to do little to lessen Lucille’s discomfort. Sylvanas released her entirely, and Lucille shuffled away a few steps until there was some distance between them.
Ah. So, that was the issue.
“If we’re going to be allies, you’re going to have to pretend to tolerate my presence,” Sylvanas said dryly. The sting of social stigma had long since lost its bite. Sylvanas barely felt it these days. Not unless there was some sudden rude reminder of her past -- seeing her sisters; seeing her homeland.
“It’s not that,” Lucille insisted, even as she balled her hands into fists and looked anywhere but at Sylvanas. “It’s just -” She made a weak gesture towards the cabin that served as Sylvanas’ headquarters. She appeared faintly ill. “I have bad memories. Of the Undead. Of witches. Of my family. It’s not you, or your people.”
Sylvanas had heard stories of the Drust incursion some years ago, the conflict that took the lives of the previous Lord and Lady Waycrest. How Lady Meredith Waycrest had attempted to summon Gorak Tul into the mortal world, leading a coven of witches, corrupting her husband into a ghoulish construct, defiling Waycrest Manor until it was a ghostly shadow of itself, teeming with undead. The people of Corlain still whispered that the place was haunted. What Sylvanas had seen of it atop the hill had loomed like a gothic portrait, all spires and gargoyles and clinging darkness lanced through with lightning, something she might read about in a penny dreadful sold on the streets of Dampwick Ward.
“I shall maintain my distance, then.” Tilting her head, Sylvanas indicated that Lucille should take a seat upon the chair opposite her desk. She herself rounded the desk and sat in her own seat. Sylvanas waited until Lucille had made herself comfortable -- or at least given the semblance of comfort, given her obvious uneasiness around the Undead -- before speaking, “Now, tell me: why the secrecy about our beloved High Thornspeaker?”
Lucille did not answer immediately. She fiddled with a pleat in her dress. “I’ve known Jaina for a long time. Since we were children,” she finally said. “When she disappeared into the forest, I didn’t see her for years. And when she came back out she was -” Lucille shrugged. “- different. Harder. She’s had every opportunity to go back to Boralus after her father died, but she’s never done it. I may not know the reasons why she stays away from her family, but I know better than anyone that family can be...complicated.”
Sylvanas grimaced. Her only reply was a hummed note of distaste and understanding in the back of her throat.
Clasping her hands together in her lap in an attempt to keep herself from fidgeting, Lucille straightened in her seat. “Use Katherine as leverage, if you must. Oh, don’t give me that look. I know what this is about. I’m not stupid. But please -” Lucille cast Sylvanas a pleading glance. “- speak with Jaina first before saying anything. That’s all I ask.”
“That rather defeats the purpose of leverage,” Sylvanas drawled. “But your point is well received. I am not as cruel as you might have been led to believe.”
Lucille’s expression could only be described as wary. Like a prey animal that was locked in a cage with a lion. “Aren’t you?”
Sylvanas smiled at her, baring a bit of fang. “Only to my enemies, Lady Waycrest. Are you my enemy?”
Hastily, Lucille shook her head.
“How fortunate, then.” Picking up a pen, Sylvanas dipped it into an inkwell. She pulled a fresh sheet of paper towards her, and began to make notes. “Now, I’m going to need some information from you about your latest deployments and military expenditures. How is your supply corps holding up?”
Lucille seemed startled by this sudden line of questioning. “They’re fine, as far as I’m aware. We have enough food to sustain us through to next spring even without Jaina's help. Why?”
“Because,” Sylvanas shot her an amused glance over the table, “I’m going to need to know, so I can give you those reinforcements you asked for.”
--
For the last two weeks, Jaina had been sending information regarding troop positions and plans via Lucille or Arthur. He would arrive in various animal forms outside Sylvanas' command centre at Swiftwind Post. Not once had he appeared human. Most notable was the time he shoved his way through the front door as a bear with twisted branches for legs and a bleached skull for a face. The Forsaken guardsmen had long since learned to recognise him on sight and let him in without any hassle, but Nathanos maintained that Arthur's manner was utterly inappropriate. Moreover, that Arthur ought to be taught a lesson on propriety in the presence of one's social betters. Nathanos would often say this while stroking the handle of an axe, glaring holes at Arthur, who in turn was completely unconcerned with the murderous intent nearby.
Today thankfully he arrived in the form of a raven, which seemed to be his preferred form most times. "Knock, knock!" Arthur said as the Forsaken guard opened the door and allowed him to fly inside.
When he landed on Sylvanas' desk, she did not even glance up at him. She continued reading her latest reports from Orgrimmar, news of border disputes and power plays between various internal factions. "Long flight?" she asked.
"Not too bad, thank the Tides."
"I hope you have good news for me."
He held out his leg, to which paper had been tightly bound in a coil. "Nothing but the best for you, Dark Lady."
She did look up at that. "My, my," she murmured, setting down her report and reaching forward to untie the scroll from his leg. "I see Nathanos has finally managed to teach you some manners."
Arthur held still until she had finished taking the scroll off, at which point he shuffled his feathers. "Anya told me I should call you that in private, and then call you by your first name when he was around."
Sylvanas snorted. "And you listened to her?"
"I like Anya. Even though she cheats at whist. And dice."
"Have you considered that Anya told you that so Nathanos would be even more tempted to shoot you?"
Arthur cocked his head in a very birdlike manner. "Maybe. She did seem kind of angry when I helped that old lady beat her at cards. But it seemed only fair."
A small chuckle escaped Sylvanas in spite of herself. She began to unroll the paper, but stopped with a furrow in her brow. "Wait. Old lady?"
"Yeah!" Arthur hopped around her desk, inspecting the map of Drustvar and its troop movements. "The one with the cane and the nice coat. Is she a defect from the Navy or something?"
Sylvanas did not know what information was more startling. That Katherine played Anya at cards and won -- no small feat in and of itself -- or that he did not know who the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras was on sight. Perhaps it spoke more to Arthur's own seclusion within the region. The Drust were not particularly fond of the Navy, and with good reason. Years of the press and other indignities did not endear them to Kul Tiras' ruling body. Or perhaps the Lord Admiral really was so lofty a position that the average citizen could never dream of seeing her in person. She had not noticed Kul Tiran currency stamped with the faces of their rulers, as was the custom in many other places. The coins and banknotes here tended towards abstract images: anchors, ship’s wheels, cephalopods, oars, and the like.
Regardless, it was a mercy. Arthur was the High Thornspeaker’s eyes and ears at Swiftwind Post. News of Katherine’s presence in the camp would not have reached Jaina yet.
“You might say that, yes,” Sylvanas said. She tapped the scroll against her wrist, watching Arthur. When he began to pick up tokens in his beak and move them around the map -- as if purely out of corvid pique -- she rapped her knuckles against the desk, startling him. “Stop that.”
He stopped, but only to hop over to another part of her desk, where he began fiddling with the bronze cast base of a candlestick. She placed the tokens back into place, then unfurled the scroll. It was a dry tally and update of the mustered Waycrest cavalry units at Corlain that would be making their way over the pass at Arom's Stand before the snows got too deep. Sylvanas made an unimpressed noise as she read over the brief report. There were barely enough mounted units to justify two cavalry battalions. But they would have to do for now, until the Horde reinforcements could arrive in three months time. By that point, the Waycrest forces would be wintering in Fallhaven and repelling a full-blown siege.
If only Jaina hadn't been so stubborn. They might have been able to muster a force to Drustvar's shores sooner.
Setting aside the report, Sylvanas picked up a pen from its inkwell. She tapped a swell of ink from its nib and then updated her own ledgers. "Arthur," she said.
"Hmm?" Arthur was busying himself with prying apart the candle-holder's handle with his beak. Better that than her maps and charts, she supposed.
"I need you to send a message to Jaina for me."
At that, he turned a milky white eye upon her. He did not seem to need to ever blink. "Sure thing. Do you want me to take a scroll or something?"
"That won't be necessary. Tell her -" Sylvanas set the pen away once more. She considered the words of her message very carefully before saying, "Tell her that I must speak with her urgently. About her appalling cavalry numbers."
"Appalling cavalry numbers," he repeated slowly under his breath, as though reciting it to memory. "Right. Got it!"
She added quickly, "And tell her I will come to her again. Save her the trip."
"No problem. I'm on it."
Despite his words, Arthur did not move. Sylvanas picked up another report but paused as he continued to watch her expectantly. "What?"
He lifted a clawed foot in her direction, his talons grasping the air. "Can you open the door for me?"
She scowled at him. "Turn into a human and do it yourself."
"If I call you Dark Lady again, will you do it for me? Please? Oh, Queen of the Forsaken?"
Sighing irritably, Sylvanas stood and crossed the room to open the door just to get him to leave.
Less than a week later, Sylvanas was once again making her way through the Crimson Forest with Arthur on her shoulder. The fog had retreated from the sea. When she arrived at the white cliffs, she could see well into the distance, where the ocean silvered beneath an overcast sky. Her wine-dark cloak whipped about her ankles. The wards permitted her presence once again without issue, but Jaina was nowhere in sight.
Sylvanas gave Arthur a questioning look, but he lifted his wings in an avian shrug. A brief reconnoiter around the cabin proved that Jaina was not there. Sylvanas was about ready to ask Arthur to see if he could scout around, when she heard a rustling in the trees behind them. Her long ears twitched towards the noise, and she turned.
Jaina was trudging slowly towards the cabin. For a moment Sylvanas thought she was wearing the skull mask, until she saw that the antlers belonged to a stag. She was carrying the dead animal from the shadow of the woods, its front hooves draped over her shoulders so that its back hooves dragged along the ground behind her. Blood soaked her robes. It dripped from the animal carcass and down her neck. She left red footprints in her wake. When Jaina looked up, her eyes seemed to gleam through the dim dusky air, but that might have just been a trick of the light.
"You have a habit of catching me at bad times," Jaina said by way of greeting.
Sylvanas nodded towards the stag. "Did you go hunting?"
"I did."
Jaina continued towards the cabin, dragging the stag beneath a partially covered awning that Sylvanas had originally thought existed for gardening purposes. She heaved the carcass onto a workbench, then wiped at her face with her hand. All it accomplished was smearing the blood even more. It was then that Sylvanas noticed her hands and arms were wrought of dark and twisted wood again.
Jaina pointed to the hilt of the hunting knife tucked into Sylvanas' boot. "Can I borrow that?"
"Only if you give it back." Even as Sylvanas said it, she reached down to pass it over. Arthur shifted on her shoulder so that he could maintain his balance.
Jaina took the knife. She carefully ran her thumb across its edge. The moment she did so, the woodgrain began to crawl down her arms, retracting into her skin until her hands were mere flesh once more. "I thought your people preferred gold over silver."
"If you are referring to the sin'dorei, you would be correct. But my family liked to give me gifts of silver as a reminder of my namesake."
Jaina took a moment to admire the blade. "It's a fine piece of craftsmanship," she said. Then with a fluid motion she stuck its point into the deer's stomach, cutting a slit from its neck all the way down its belly. "You wanted to talk to me about my -- how did you put it? -- appalling cavalry numbers?"
With a glance at the raven on her shoulder, Sylvanas said, "Arthur, give us some privacy."
Arthur waited for Jaina's nod before he took flight and winged off back over the trees.
“Well, now I’m worried,” said Jaina dryly, even as she returned to gutting the stag. She worked quickly and efficiently, dumping the organs into a bucket on the ground -- all but for the heart, which she carefully severed from the carcass. When she pulled it free, she inspected it thoroughly before setting it aside in a wicker basket on a corner of the benchtop.
Leaning against the wall of the cabin, Sylvanas crossed her arms in a creak of leather and chainmail. “An unexpected guest has shown up at my door at Swiftwind Post.”
"Are we playing a guessing game this time?" Using the knife, Jaina began to make strategic cuts in the deer's hide. "Was it Lady Ashvane? She is the type to be lured by the promise of coin, of which you seem to have plenty to spare."
Sylvanas watched as Jaina set aside the knife on the counter in order to lift the carcass onto a hook from the awning's frame so that the stag's head dangled almost to the ground. She would have offered her help, but Jaina hauled the dead weight around with surprising ease.
"No," Sylvanas murmured. "In fact, it was your mother."
Jaina went stock still. Beneath the bloody smears, her face paled. She turned slowly to stare. "What?" she rasped.
"Lord Stormsong has proclaimed himself Lord Admiral, and she has lost the support of the Navy due to her lack of an Heir," Syvlanas explained.
Jaina's hands were trembling slightly. She swallowed. "Does she -? Did you tell her about -?"
Sylvanas shook her head.
A sigh of relief escaped Jaina. She chewed at her lower lip, then snatched up the knife, gripping it tight, and turned back to the carcass. "Good," she said. Then repeated more firmly. "That's good. That's -" Jaina had begun to use the knife to peel the hide starting at the stag's hind legs, but stopped. "Why didn't you tell her?"
There was suspicion in her voice. She was gripping the hunting knife in a white-knuckled grasp, her hands slicked red and gory.
Sylvanas cocked her head and replied calmly. "Should I have?"
"I don't know. I am trying to think of what you have to gain by coming to me first. Or maybe you're lying again."
"You can come to Swiftwind Post and see for yourself. She's currently terrorising my Dark Ranger at cards. I'm sure Anya would see your intervention as a kindness," Sylvanas offered with a shrug. "Or you can just ask Arthur."
Immediately Jaina shook her head. With jerky motions, she set the knife back down and began tugging the hide free in a single unbroken sheet with nothing but her bare hands. "No. I'm not ready. I can't -" Jaina drew in a deep shaky breath, and pulled hard on the hide. "I can't talk to her yet."
"I understand."
Blinking in shock, Jaina stopped and turned her wide-eyed gaze upon Sylvanas.
"Family reunions can be difficult. Especially when they thought you were dead. Or worse." Sylvanas gestured to herself. "So, yes. I understand. And I will keep my silence. It is, after all, not my secret to tell."
Jaina's shoulders sagged in relief. Some of the colour was returning to her cheeks. "Thank you," she breathed. "I did not expect that of you. In fact, I - I owe you an apology."
Grimacing as though at a bad taste in her mouth, Sylvanas waved that notion aside. "I would prefer it if you didn't."
But Jaina continued as though Sylvanas hadn’t said anything. "I misjudged you. And for that I’m sorry. I thought you would use this as leverage against me somehow."
Her expression was far too sincere. It made Sylvanas uncomfortable. She much preferred it when Jaina was acting lofty and bored. So, of course she said, "I haven't ruled that out, mind you. I’m not above a little blackmail."
"You won't. Not with this, you won’t.”
The confidence with which Jaina said that and returned to her task was perhaps the most aggravating part about this entire encounter. Mostly because she was right. Sylvanas hated it when she was right. How utterly infuriating.
Jaina wiped the bloodied knife clean and handed it back. “You said silver was a reminder of your namesake?”
“A nickname. My sisters used to call me Lady Moon.” Sylvanas propped her foot atop the bucket of offal in order to sheathe her hunting knife once more in her boot. Its silver handle gleamed at her calf, always within easy reach.
“And I presume they didn’t take it very well?” In explanation, Jaina made an all-encompassing gesture at Sylvanas.
“They did not.”
Most times, Alleria refused to talk to her. When she did, it always ended up in a screaming match, which benefited no one. And Vereesa spoke to her as though speaking over a grave. Everything in the past tense. Lots of tears involved. Sylvanas could hardly stand it. Not to mention, she wasn’t allowed anywhere near her nephews. Both for being Undead and for being Horde.
But as Lucille had said: family was….complicated.
Jaina had returned to skinning the deer. She seemed more relaxed now. She certainly didn’t give the impression that she wanted to be alone. Sylvanas had learned from her last visit that Jaina could, at will, have an aura of menace that rivalled her own. But she didn’t have that now.
“When was the last time you saw Katherine?” Sylvanas asked.
Giving a particularly vicious yank downwards on the deer hide, so that it peeled away from the membrane that attached it to muscle, Jaina grunted. “At the gallows in Unity Square. She made me watch them hang Tandred. And later that night, she had a loyal guardsman put a bag over my head and drag me to Drustvar.”
Sylvanas frowned. “Human ages are strange to elves, but twelve seems rather young even for humans.”
“It is.” Another vicious tug at the hide. She pulled it over the carcass’ shoulders. “My brothers were quite a bit older than me. Tandred was nineteen when he died.”
“Hmm.” Sylvanas nodded. “There’s an age gap between myself and my siblings as well.”
“Oh?”
“That’s not an invitation for me to talk about them, though.”
Jaina snorted. “Hypocrite.”
Gamely accepting the accusation with a shrug, Sylvanas said, “I will make sure Katherine stays at Swiftwind Post, so you don’t go running into her by accident. I propose our future meetings to discuss the coming battles be either at the Horde encampment on the Eastern Cliffs, or here. Whichever you prefer.”
At last Jaina managed to tear the hide the last of the way free. It peeled back like the rind of a nectarine from the incisions around the stag’s neck and legs, so that she held it up in one sheet, perfectly intact. She folded it into a roll, and then placed it on the ground by the workbench to be dealt with later. Wiping at her brow with the back of one hand, Jaina nodded towards her. “Do you still have that token of mine?”
Jaina was holding out her other hand, still grimy with dried blood. Digging around in one of the leather pouches at her belt, Sylvanas passed the fang to her without question. Jaina took it and without another word, stepped around the deer carcass and started walking around the cottage. Puzzled, Sylvanas followed. A short stint found them both standing near the front entrance, where Jaina unexpectedly squatted down on the ground. Daubing a bit of coagulated blood from her clothes onto her fingers, she drew a series of runes on the ground. When she whispered in an ancient unintelligible tongue, the sound echoed faintly on the breeze, and the hair on the back of Sylvanas’ arms and neck stood on end.
The fang hung from its string over the runes, suspended in air even when Jaina let go of it. As soon as she finished mumbling whatever spell she was casting, the fang dropped to the ground with surprising weight, heavy as a lodestone.
Clearing her throat, Jaina picked up the fang and stood. She casually handed it back to Sylvanas as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “There,” Jaina said. “If you ask this token nicely, it will now teleport you to this spot.” She indicated the runes on the ground with her foot. “And when you use it again, it will return you to the exact location you were before.”
Rather than be pleased, Sylvanas glared at her. “You couldn’t have given this to me sooner? You know it takes at least three days to get here?”
“I didn’t trust you sooner.”
With a disdainful sniff, Sylvanas nevertheless stuck the fang back into her pouch. “I don’t suppose you have a map inside? We should go over a few things while I’m here.”
“I do. But I was rather hoping to take a bath before it grows dark. In case you haven’t noticed -” Jaina gestured to the blood and mud caked onto her clothes, her arms and legs, even on her braid. “- I’m filthy.”
“Tomorrow?”
Jaina thought about it before saying, “I should be free in the evening, yes. So long as you don’t mind if I eat while we talk about military matters.”
“Fine,” Sylvanas relented. "I meant what I said, by the way.”
Blinking in confusion, Jaina said, “About what?”
“Your cavalry numbers really are abysmal."
Jaina laughed.
--
When Jaina had said she needed to ‘ask the token nicely,’ Sylvanas hadn’t thought she had meant that literally. Standing in her private quarters at Swiftwind Post, Sylvanas held the fang by its string.
"Take me to Jaina," she said.
Nothing happened.
With a scowl, she lifted it to eye level. "Take me to Jaina," she growled, then added, "Please."
There was a wrenching sensation in her gut, as though a harpoon had been lodged in her stomach and then yanked. A whirl of colour and darkness, and suddenly she was standing on the glyph of blood marked outside of Jaina's cabin. She stuffed the fang back into her pouch, then knocked on the door.
Jaina opened it and waved her inside with a wooden cooking spoon, "Shoes off, please."
It took Sylvanas a moment to rid herself of her greaves and boots, leaving them at the door along with her weapons. Jaina had already disappeared back inside. The skull mask greeted her on its hook by the exit. Closing the door behind her, Sylvanas stepped further into the living room.
The house was filled with the smells of cooking. Jaina was already spooning herself a serving of what appeared to be a hearty stew into a bowl. She did not offer any to Sylvanas. That suited Sylvanas just fine; she did not like eating unless absolutely necessary. Usually that necessity was due to the living wanting her to keep up appearances for their sake. She had not needed to eat to sustain herself for years. And ridding her stomach of whatever she consumed was always messy.
This time, the table before the fireplace was stretched with a map of Drustvar. It was far more detailed than the one in Sylvanas' outposts. Extra notes had been scribbled here and there in Jaina's cramped handwriting. Most notably were the addition of extra sites that Sylvanas had never encountered during her time here. All with the 'Gol' preffix before their names. Drust sites, then.
Jaina sat in the same chair she had frequented last time, gesturing for Sylvanas to take the nearby couch again. She tucked into her stew, balancing the bowl in her lap so she could study the map while she ate. "You'll be pleased to know that I've managed to levy an extra five hundred infantry."
Sylvanas' eyebrows rose. "Since yesterday, you mean?"
Spoon in her mouth, Jaina nodded smugly.
"You work quickly," Sylvanas murmured. She sat on the couch, resting her elbows upon her knees and leaning over the map. She pointed at Fletcher's Hollow. "Ah, yes. I see them here. Do you have a spare pen I might use?"
"Mmm!" Jaina hummed a note of affirmation around a mouthful of food. She set the bowl down on the map, and went to bustle around a bookshelf. When she returned, she handed Sylvanas a quill and inkwell.
"Thank you," Sylvanas murmured, taking the items.
She pulled a small ledger from a pouch at her belt, a mirror of the larger one she kept at each Horde outpost. While she updated it, Jaina sat back down and returned to her meal.
Sylvanas looked up from her notes. “I don’t suppose you’ve acquired any more cannons in the last twenty four hours as well?”
“We now have a total of fifty,” Jaina said. “And roughly two thousand artillerymen to man and supply them.”
Flipping to another page in the little notebook, Sylvanas scratched a few figures onto the parchment. “Make it one hundred guns and four thousand artillerymen.”
“We can’t. We simply don’t have that number.”
Sylvanas shot her an exasperated look. “No, I am giving you those numbers.”
Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Jaina’s chewing slowed. She swallowed, then said, “You told me you weren’t storing munitions at your sites.”
Sylvanas blinked innocently at her. “I wasn’t.”
“Sylvanas.”
Lifting one shoulder in an elfin half shrug, Sylvanas said, “I was stowing them offshore. In Suramar, if you must know. And since it’s only four weeks to sail from Drustvar to Suramar, I ordered them to begin shipment three weeks ago. They will arrive here just in time for whatever action we may require.”
Jaina made an irritated noise.
“You can hardly be angry with me for being a bit inventive,” Sylvanas said.
“I can. And I will.”
In reply Sylvanas rolled her eyes. She lowered the notebook and pen into her lap, hand poised to continue writing. “I received news from Zandalar recently. We managed to sign a treaty. They are now going to be counted among the ranks of the Horde. Which means we’ll have ships to help break the siege of Fallhaven come spring.”
Slowly Jaina lowered her spoon back into her bowl. She regarded Sylvanas carefully. “Congratulations, I suppose.”
“Thank you.”
“Another notch for your belt.”
Sylvanas sniffed. “How crude.”
“But true.” Setting aside her bowl as though she had lost her appetite, Jaina said, “Don’t ship them off just yet. I’ll need to ensure we can properly support them. Food isn’t a problem of course, but other supplies might be.”
“And how many battlemages do you have in total now?” Sylvanas asked.
“House Waycrest has none they can spare. Many either died during the incursion a few years ago, or are no longer able to fight. Too young. Too old. Too injured.” Crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, Jaina said, “But I personally have about forty druids that we can field. Including myself.”
Sylvanas could feel her eyebrows rise in spite of herself. Back when she was the Ranger-General of Silvermoon, battlemages were parcelled out to her very rarely. She’d had to rely far more heavily upon standardised artillery than upon mages in wartime. Even now as Warchief of the Horde, having forty mages attached to a single division was -- in short -- a luxury.
Mages were both like and unlike fancy artillery pieces. On the one hand, you couldn’t just order in a new set from some goblin factory. But on the other hand, they could win you the battle through feats of raw firepower alone. Quite literally, in some cases.
“And you expect that we won’t finish until next year?” Sylvanas said incredulously. “When you have forty battlemages?”
“Druids,” Jaina corrected.
Sylvanas waved away the technicality. “Do the Ashvanes even have battlemages of their own?”
“We have to assume they are still using Tidesages for now.” Sighing, Jaina rubbed at her forehead. “Have your backup artillery and soldiers ready to march for Barrowknoll soon. We’ll group just north of Swiftwind Post, and move from there.”
“Have there been any Ashvane movements that I should be aware of?”
“None yet. But there will be. Call it a hunch.”
“One you can see from orbit.” Checking to see if her words were dry on the pages, Sylvanas set aside the quill and ink. She snapped her little notebook shut. “In any case, you look tired, and I should take my leave for the evening.”
Still kneading at her brow, Jaina gave a little murmur of appreciation. Sylvanas rose to her feet and turned to leave. Jaina said nothing further on her way out, though Sylvanas paused at in the entryway.
The skull mask watched her. And just below it on the ground was the singed little wicker effigy made by Mace. She had not noticed it when she had first entered the cabin. Now, a chill raced across her skin. She glanced over her shoulder, but Jaina was scowling down at the map and scrawling more notes on its surface.
Jaina must have felt the weight of Sylvanas' gaze upon her, for suddenly she looked up. She smiled, but it did not seem to reach her eyes. "Good night. Will you come around again tomorrow."
"The day after," Sylvanas answered. "I have a few things of my own to attend to."
"I look forward to it."
Yanking open the door, Sylvanas stepped outside and left.
--
Even when she had been alive, she had always been suspicious of events going according to plan. There was always something that threw a wrench into the mix, so to speak. Over the next week, Sylvanas kept a watchful eye out for any such wrench, and was stymied when she could not find it.
The ships from Suramar arrived, slipping up the eastern coast of Drustvar and past the Ashvane forces without any hassle, even though Sylvanas had contingency plans put in place just in case. Her rangers were not needed to save the ships from a watery grave, and the arrival of guns and artillerymen were well received. Jaina and Lucille had both been equal parts thrilled and relieved to hear the news.
Mostly relieved, if she were being honest. And she could hardly blame them. One could never have too much artillery. Back when she had been Ranger-General of Silvermoon, her troops had teased her for her increased emphasis on artillery, calling them 'Windrunner's Kings.' The artillery division had even given themselves patches with a crown insignia on their uniforms, a fact which Sylvanas had always dreaded would make its way back to Kael'thas one day. And indeed there had been political hell to pay for a few years when it had.
The arrival of more artillery did little to brighten her mood, however. Sylvanas approached the Highmountain Druid assigned to Katherine one day, questioning him about the Drust. He proved himself next to useless. While he thought the Drust odd, he could find no fault with their magic even if it was rather more macabre than most other Druidic schools. When he started droning on about 'the balance between life and death' and 'the fascinating equilibrium of mortality,' Sylvanas lost all interest.
If there was one thing she had never been good at, it was listening to long-winded explanations of magic. And Druids were the worst sort. Always on about vague mysticism this, and restoring the balance that. What drivel.
Jaina herself was no help either. Now that Sylvanas could take frequent visits without wasting precious time, she did so. Based on how long it had taken her to convince Jaina to agree to this arrangement in the first place, Sylvanas had prepared herself for the worst. As it turned out, Jaina was surprisingly cooperative now. Mostly this seemed to extend to the fact that Sylvanas had not told Katherine about her daughter.
And even Katherine was not as difficult to deal with as Sylvanas had originally thought. The world really was coming to an end. When Sylvanas started probing for more information about the information Katherine had received during the Drust incursion, the Lord Admiral merely leaned back in her chair before the fireplace with a mournful look.
“This is what you interrupted my game of cards for?” Katherine asked, though she sounded more weary than belligerent. “I would have beaten your little Ranger again, too, given a few more minutes.”
“I have no doubt of that. Tea?” Sylvanas offered a cup, pouring it from a pot and adding a splash of milk. It had been how she’d lured Katherine away in the first place.
“Thank you.” Katherine held out her hand and took the cup and saucer. “Why the sudden interest in the Drust incursion?”
Sylvanas propped her ankle atop her opposite knee, sitting with one leg splayed. She did not partake in any tea herself. “Originally, I’d thought you only had two children, but I’ve recently learned you had three. A daughter. Jaina.”
The cup stopped dead in its tracks before Katherine could take that first sip. She set it back upon its saucer, then balanced both atop the arm of her chair. “I did,” she said softly.
“What happened?” Sylvanas asked. She kept her voice delicate and aloof.
With a sigh, Katherine picked up the cane that was leaning against her bad leg. For a moment Sylvanas thought she was going to push herself upright and hobble away, but Katherine only turned the cane between her fingers, as though admiring the falcon head wrought from pure polished silver. “It’s not that complicated, really. She developed magical talents very young. Her father and I fought about it. There’s no magic blood innate in his side of the family, you see. So, of course it was all my fault. And then he wanted to cloister her away with the Tidesages, to live out her days as some mute, robed Sister.”
Katherine snorted in derision and shook her head, falling silent. Sylvanas said nothing. She waited for her to continue.
“I thought that by sending her away to the Drust, I was protecting her. And then -” Katherine gave a wave of her hand. “For naught. In the end, I might as well have let Daelin send her to the Monastery. Grief comes for you in strange ways,” she mused, fiddling with her cane. “The news came to me over a week after she had died. Somehow, the idea of her being alive was a hope in and of itself. And after I knew she was gone, I saw emptiness everywhere.” Then she gave an unexpected snort. “I was even sad to hear the Old Bear had passed away.”
“Old Bear?” Sylvanas repeated, puzzled.
“Ulfar. The last of the great High Thornspeakers.” Katherine smiled wistfully at the flames dancing in the hearth. “I remember my grandfather telling me tales when I was a child of Ulfar haunting the forests and mountains. A great bear lashed together by bone and vines that would protect the animals from greedy hunters by eating their livers.”
She chortled, and Sylvanas shot her a puzzled look. Kul Tirans had a very queer sense of whimsy, indeed.
“From what I understand,” Sylvanas said. “The last time she was seen in Boralus was at her brother’s gallows.”
Katherine went white. She jerked in her seat so suddenly she nearly sent the teacup and saucer crashing onto the floor. “Who told you that?”
In reply, Sylvanas only shrugged.
Setting down her cane to steady the cup, Katherine took a moment to collect herself. She fussed over the spot of tea she had spilled onto the saucer before answering, “Whoever your sources are, they’re very good.”
“They also wish to remain anonymous,” Sylvanas said.
“Hmm.” Katherine pursed her lips. She took a sip of the tea. “It’s true. And she was wroth with me. As wrathful as only a child can be. But it served its purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“Well, she never did try to come back when her father was still Lord Admiral, did she?” Katherine gave her a thin smile and added, “Better angry with me and alive, than the alternative.”
--
Through the second story window, Sylvanas was overlooking the valley below Swiftwind Post when she received the news. In her hand, she toyed with the fang token, rolling the texture of it between her fingers. She hummed to herself idly, a half forgotten tune of home. The notes lingered in the dusty corners of the room that she called her own here in Drustvar. This place could not have been less like Quel’Thalas, yet the memory of home had washed over her today like a storm.
“You’re in a good mood,” remarked Nathanos from the doorway behind her.
The song trailed off in the back of her throat, but her next words still held onto it, as though reluctant to let it go. "There's no threat of the Legion. We have signed a treaty with Zandalar. We have the Alliance on the back foot. And we are on the cusp of instigating a revolt in foreign lands." Sylvanas said. Her reflection in the glass smiled, and she turned around to face him. "I haven't had this much fun in years."
"Perhaps I should caution you on having too much fun." Nathanos gave Jaina’s token a pointed look.
Sylvanas stiffened. Her hand gripped the fang so tightly she could feel its point dig into the leather of her glove. She aimed a glower at him and stashed the token away again. All levity vanished. "And perhaps you should hold your tongue."
He inclined his head in a quiet apology. But what he said was, “I do not share your ease, I’m afraid. This whole situation feels off. I keep expecting to find something behind every corner. Like a Draenei nesting doll. Hosts within hosts within hosts.”
Her mouth twisted to one side, but her ears cocked inquisitively. “Yes,” she said. “I can understand that sentiment.”
Nathanos held up a small scroll, the kind that was usually wrapped around Arthur’s leg. “The High Thornspeaker has sent another message.”
In reply, Sylvanas held out her hand. He crossed the room and gave it to her, then stood back in respectful silence while she unfurled it. Her crimson gaze skimmed across the message. She looked at him over the scroll, then handed it back to him.
“Assemble the troops,” she said. “We march on Barrowknoll tomorrow morning.”
With a bow, Nathanos turned heel and left to do as ordered.
It took two days for a division of twelve thousand soldiers to march west for the hills due south of Barrowknoll. Sylvanas was used to personally commanding more impressive forces -- at the very least whole corps fifty thousand strong -- but she had fond memories of smaller detachments like this. Back when little had been expected of her, when her older sister was next in line to inherit the title of Ranger-General of Silvermoon, and Sylvanas was left to the excitement of border skirmishes and tactical missions with a trusted coterie of colonels and captains at her beck and call.
Now, Sylvanas rode, bored, at the head of a force her younger self would have been eager to command. The horse beneath her clattered softly with every step, the rattle of its bones muted only somewhat by a saddle and royal drapery. She had been able to summon a skeletal horse to ride. This far east, Jaina’s iron-clad will over the dead was not as strong as it was in the heart of the Crimson Forest, allowing Sylvanas to snap her fingers and bones to rush from the ground with soothing familiarity.
What wasn’t so soothing was the Lord Admiral’s presence at her side. Katherine rode as though she had been born in a saddle. Her wound did little to diminish her skill. Her bad leg was set in a brace, and her silver-headed cane strapped where a cavalry sword would have normally sat for easy access. She wasn’t the chatty sort -- thank the Sun -- but Sylvanas always had the impression that Katherine’s silences were secretly passing judgement. As though every order Sylvanas issued could have somehow been improved. Sylvanas ignored her as best she could, speaking instead to her rangers to pass the time.
On the end of the second day, they met Jaina and Lucille at the foothills southeast of the pass from Arom’s Stand. The two divisions combined created a motley army, all a-clash with colour and equipment. If Sylvanas had been younger -- and alive-- the lack of standardisation and coherence would have given her hives. As it was, she merely wrinkled her nose.
Sylvanas was already ordering camp to be made for the night, when Jaina and Lucille rode up to greet them. While Lucille sat astride a smoke-dark charger, Jaina’s mount was a more unconventional stag. It looked like the Wild God from the forest, but smaller and with a less lustrous white coat -- an offspring of Athair, perhaps. With her skull mask, and her dark mantle of leaves, and a massive raven perched on her shoulder, she looked every inch a High Thornspeaker.
Straightening in her saddle, Sylvanas said, “You’re not looking so unkempt today, Arthur. Did you finally discover the joys of a bath?”
The raven on Jaina’s shoulder snapped its beak in reply. Sylvanas lifted an eyebrow in surprise.
"That's enough of that now, Adalyn," Jaina chided. Then she turned to Sylvanas. "Don't mind her. She's just very protective."
"I can see that,” Sylvanas murmured. “I trust the mountains weren’t too difficult to cross?”
Lucille shrugged and answered, “They could have been worse. We won’t be getting back over them anytime soon, though.”
At Sylvanas’ side, Katherine shortened her grip on the reins when her horse stamped an impatient hoof and began pawing at the soft ground. “You must be the new High Thornspeaker.” She nodded curtly to Jaina in a greeting. "Katherine Proudmoore. Lord Admiral."
"I know," Jaina answered. Her voice was even and cool.
Frowning in confusion at this chilly reception, Katherine remarked, "You're not a bear. Or any other type of animal."
"No. But I can be."
"And what is your name?" Katherine asked.
Jaina's answer was wintry. "You may call me: High Thornspeaker."
An uncomfortable silence descended over them. Eventually, Lucille cleared her throat awkwardly and jerked her head for Katherine to follow her. “If you’d like to come with me, Katherine.”
“I think I would.” Katherine shot Jaina one last puzzled look, then kneed her horse to trail after Lucille’s. The two of them rode off towards the Waycrest camp.
Sylvanas watched them go. “Follow them,” she said to Velonara and Tatanka. “Keep reporting back, as you have been.”
Both nodded, and went after the pair, leaving Jaina and Sylvanas alone. Apart from Adalyn, who continued to glower at Sylvanas with a peculiarly corvid intensity, and Nathanos, who matched Jaina’s raven bodyguard glare for glare.
“Well then,” Sylvanas said after another moment of awkward silence. “I thought that was a good start.”
“Don’t,” Jaina warned, her tone dark and echoing beneath the mask.
“I am being very sincere right now.”
“Sylvanas.”
Throwing caution to the wind, Sylvanas continued talking, “To be honest, I am disappointed. There wasn’t a single punch thrown.”
And with a sound of disgust, Jaina wheeled her stag around, riding off towards her own Drust troops.
After she had gone, Nathanos said, “Remember what I said about having too much fun?”
“In fact, I had already forgotten,” Sylvanas drawled. “But I am sure you’ll remind me.”
He bowed in the saddle. “Only doing my duty for my Queen.”
“Yes, that is the problem.”
--
On the third day, they rode north, abandoning their hold on anything further south than Swiftwind Post. The only thing Sylvanas thought they had accomplished by holding out for so long to the south was depleting Asvhane’s resources. It seemed to do very little however. House Ashvane had very deep pockets, and a liberal manner with gold. Indeed, a few Waycrest troops had been lured over to wear the red by virtue of higher pay alone. Sylvanas had thought Jaina would be angry at this blatant act of disloyalty, but when Velonara reported back on figures lost, Jaina just sighed and updated her ledgers.
By mid morning of the fourth day, their combined forces had at last reached Barrowknoll. Rising up on her stirrups, Sylvanas looked out across the fields. The river Reilig wended its way through the town of Barrownknoll, forded by two bridges, both heavily guarded by Ashvane forces to the east. There would be no crossing there. Not without a bloody battle on their hands. Bloodier by far than what they could hope for here at the town proper. On the easternmost side of the town, a graveyard sprawled with tombstones of various sizes and states of weathering. It surrounded a church, which milled with artillerymen loading carts of munitions onto oxen-pulled wagons. Further east on their side of the river, a swamp spread in a great mass, extending nearly all the way to the first bridge.
The only feature worth taking at this point was a rolling hill just south of the riverbend in which Barrowknoll was nestled. Pulling sharply back on the reins, Sylvanas nodded towards the hill. “We should establish our artillery there and shell the town.”
“I agree,” Jaina said promptly, while Katherine nodded in approval.
“Are we confident the town has been evacuated of all civilians?” Lucille asked.
“Do you hear that, Velonara?” Sylvanas drawled. “Lady Waycrest doubts your reconnaissance.”
“That’s not -! No, I just mean -!” Lucille spluttered, while Sylvanas and Velonara watched her flounder with amusement.
Poor girl. She wouldn’t have survived five minutes in an elvish army. The teasing would have killed her stone dead.
Jaina did not let this go on for long. “I’ve had a raven fly over the area closely. There are no civilians. They’ve all fled north to Fallhaven.”
Casting her a curious glance, Sylvanas asked, “Arthur?”
But Jaina shook her head. “No. He wanted to fight. He’s in the infantry ranks.”
Sylvanas opened her mouth, realised she was going to protest, and then closed it again with a frown.
Meanwhile, Katherine had spurred her horse forward. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s set up the artillery, and then rain fire down on these bastards.”
A number of guardsmen, including the Highmountain Druid Sylvanas had assigned, went trotting after Katherine’s horse as she rode towards the hill. Lucille followed, pulling her horse up beside Katherine, who had already begun barking out curt decisive orders with the kind of inherent authority that had Waycrest officers leaping to attention.
Sylvanas watched all this, and said aside to Jaina in a low voice so that her words would not carry, “Your mother certainly has spirit.”
She couldn’t see any expression beneath the mask, but Jaina’s head turned towards her with a distinctly exasperated air. And rather than reply, Jaina urged the stag to chase after Lucille and Katherine.
It took the better part of three hours to get all of the artillery into place. Oxen pulling massive carts strained at their yokes, leaving deep grooves in the wet earth behind them. Their handlers hauled at their nose rings, coaxing the oxen up the hill and into position where their goods could be unloaded. While the artillerymen carefully placed their cannons and took measurements to judge the range between them and the town, the rest of the army began to dig into the southeast of the hill in anticipation of battle. Only a stone’s throw away from their artillery, but sheltered enough by the slope that they would not be caught in the enemy crossfire.
Sylvanas trained a spyglass on the enemy within the town, watching them do much the same. Soldiers in bold red coats scurried about in front of the church and all along the bend of the riverbank. They peered down the length of their own tools and and spyglasses. They adjusted their guns to point just so, reacting to every new order given by the unlikely Alliance between the Drust, House Waycrest, and the Horde. By the end, both battalions were sweating despite the cold damp atmosphere of Drustvar, and not a single shot had been fired yet.
By the time they started exchanging barrages, the groundworks were nearing completion and Katherine was being poured her first cup of tea. The roar of the cannons was so loud it made the air tremble. Katherine spilled tea all down the front of her greatcoat.
“Oh, blast!” She swore. "They couldn't have warned us before they started?"
“I would have thought you’d be used to a bit of cannon fire by now,” Lucille pointed out.
Katherine scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that.” When Tatanka passed her a delicately embroidered handkerchief from one of his pouches, she murmured, “Thank you, my dear.”
When Sylvanas shot him an odd look, the Tauren shrugged his massive shoulders. “She made it for me.”
“That does not make this any better,” she growled.
“Oh, do calm down,” Katherine sighed. “Have a cup with me. You too, over there.” She waved over Jaina. “Or do you really never take off that bloody thing?”
Upon being addressed by her mother, Jaina’s already rigid posture seemed to go impossibly more tense. She mutely shook her head, turned, and strode away towards the Horde and Drust troops, which were working further east along the battlements.
Lifting her now refilled up of tea to her lips, Katherine sipped contemplatively. She studied Jaina’s retreating back over the rim of her cup. “Your High Thornspeaker isn't very talkative," she remarked to Lucille.
“Ah, no,” said Lucille. “I mean -- sometimes she can be a bit -- well, she’s very -- uhm --”
At a loss for what to say and not give everything away, she cast Sylvanas an imploring glance. Shaking her head in exasperation, Sylvanas went back to her skeletal horse and lifted herself easily into the saddle. She tugged at the reins, wheeling the steed sharply around, and said to Lucille, “Give me your cavalry.”
Lucille blinked up at her. “What for?”
“For their primary purpose: scouting.”
“Just give them to her,” Katherine said. “She’s going to be boorish about it. I can tell. Always needs something to do, that one.”
Sylvanas didn’t dignify that with a response. She waited for Lucille’s reply.
“Very well,” Lucille relented. “Go. Scout.”
“Velonara, stay here. Nathanos, keep our High Thornspeaker company. Anya, with me.” Pointing to each of them in turn, Sylvanas did not wait for Anya to mount up before she was urging her skeletal horse forward. She could hear Anya swearing in Thalassian behind her as she tried to mount up and follow quickly enough.
The cavalry Captain, a burly bearded man by the name of Hayles, was puzzled and initially suspicious of being ordered about by the likes of the Warchief of the Horde. But he did not question it much, despite his obvious displeasure. When Sylvanas fixed him with a crimson glare, he shoved his helm onto his head and mounted up with the rest of his battalion, grumbling all the while.
Sylvanas led them towards the river Reilig, sweeping wide of the bend to avoid the back and forth barrage of artillery fire between the two sides. Even so, sprays of mud would explode near enough for the living horses to shy. The cavalrymen had quick hands on their reins, easily holding formation as they rode.
There was a fork in the river on the western side of the town. Sylvanas pulled her skeletal steed to a halt at the first branch, then rode up and down the bank a few paces. She stood up in her stirrups to get a better look at the water until she found a suitable spot.
"Here," she said, digging her heels into the horse's bare ribs out of habit alone. It only needed the lightest of touch at the reins to do her bidding.
The skeletal mount splashed out into the water, fording the river. Hayles, Anya, and the others followed. At the deepest point of these shallows, the water just barely reached the horses’ chests. Deep enough to dissuade an infantry advance, but not deep enough to completely discount it. Certainly easy enough to ford for cavalry.
On the other side of the river, the Ashvane troops had long since noticed their presence. Now, red and white coated cavalry in far greater numbers than their own shadowed their movements. Hayles kept a grim eye upon them, drawing his sabre and resting it expertly against his shoulder as he rode a length behind Sylvanas. Meanwhile, she ignored the enemy cavalry utterly for now, paying more attention to the landscape.
The next branch in the fork was shallower still than the first. She kept her distance. The Ashvane cavalry captain across the way was close enough that she could see the eagerness on his face beneath his crested helm. He appeared young. Hungry for a fight. Clearly he believed his numbers advantage would win him anything. He didn't realise exactly who it was that waited for him on the other side of the water. For a moment Sylvanas considered baiting him across the river for a bit of a skirmish just for the fun of it -- she had been cooped up for far too long on these rain-lousy islands, and the idea of luring a headstrong youth to his untimely demise was, admittedly, very appealing -- but eventually after a few hours of scouting and posturing, she turned the cavalry battalion back towards the southeast. She could almost hear the sigh of relief from Hayles behind her.
The artillery barrage had not slowed during their time along the Reilig. They had arrived in the late morning, and already the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon behind the thick bank of cloud that covered the sky. All along the fields between the hill and the town, the earth was churned up with great gouge marks from the cannonballs ripping into the ground. In the distance, the town's buildings had been mostly reduced to rubble. Only a few houses furthest away from the river had escaped unscathed. The church's belltower had collapsed. Holes riddled its wooden roof, and the air was filled with an acrid smoke so thick it was difficult to see the enemy artillerymen loading their guns.
The cavalry had to weave their way between patches of relatively flat earth so that the horses would not break their legs. Much to Sylvanas' dismay, a drizzle had started up. The craters in the ground were starting to fill with water. Her own cloak was thoroughly damp as well. She would give her ears a periodic flick to rid them of rain, to very little effect. Anya would do the same. Hayles and the rest of the Waycrest cavalry on the other hand seemed unperturbed by the change in weather.
As they rode up behind the artillery, Sylvanas could see that the infantry had made temporary camp behind their groundworks. Soldiers were beginning to serve themselves dinner, settling in for a long evening. Every few minutes, a cannon would go off with a recoil that shoved the entire artillery piece back a few meters, and a group of twenty to thirty men would rush about like a swarm of bees to get it back into position for another round of firing. After each blast, a flinch would shiver through the ranks of infantry and cavalry nearby. Sylvanas could tell just by the reactions which were veterans and which were green bloods.
Most, she was pleased to see, appeared to have seen battle before. Surprising, considering how quickly Lucille had levied troops. The Ashvane ranks would be filled with new blood. The Navy marines would be tied to Lord Stormsong now, and Lady Ashvane would have thrown gold around to attract anyone young and foolish enough to have a gun shoved into their hands and a red coat draped across their shoulders.
When Sylvanas dismounted and dismissed Captain Hayles for the evening, he grudgingly saluted with his sabre before sheathing it once more at his saddle. Meanwhile, Anya was already chatting up a few of the lower ranked cavalrymen, who were easily won over by a pretty face and the idea that they would get a few games of whist with their supper. Sylvanas left them to their fate -- knowing full well that Anya would clean out their pockets and leave them high and dry before the night's end -- and went in search of the command tent.
No less than four guardsmen flanked the command tent's entrance. On one side, the Highmountain druid assigned to Katherine and a Forsaken heavy infantryman. On the other, a Waycrest guard in full plate and a Drust in the form of a sabre cat. The Drust sat on the ground like a sphynx, its gnarled, branch-like paws crossed almost primly. It glowered balefully at Sylvanas as she approached.
"Good evening, Adalyn," Sylvanas greeted dryly.
A rumbling growl rolled from Adalyn's fanged mouth in response.
Sylvanas ducked beneath the tent flap and entered. Inside, Lucille, Katherine and Velonara had their heads bent over a table bearing a detailed map of the area. Lucille was drawing notes directly onto the map with careful penmanship, while Katherine pointed to various places with a murmur and a frown. On the other side of the tent, Nathanos and Jaina were engaged in an unlikely alliance, conversing softly together in their own corner. Jaina of course still wore her mask. Luckily whoever had erected the tent had taken this into account, and made the ceiling high enough that neither she nor the Tauren outside would be at risk of puncturing the canvas with a stray antler.
The moment Sylvanas stepped inside, all heads turned in her direction. She took a moment to clean off her muddy boots before venturing further in, but she still left prints in the rugs that had been strategically placed along the ground.
"Did you learn anything of interest?" Katherine asked immediately.
"I did."
Sylvanas crossed over to the table. She was joined by Jaina and Nathanos so that they all crowded around the map. They stood so close together that Jaina's elbow jostled her own. Sylvanas made a motion towards Lucille, who handed over the pen. When she tried to mark the map however, she had to dip the nib into fresh ink before trying again.
"On the banks of the loop nearest enemy territory, the Ashvanes have built up groundworks anticipating a frontal assault on the church." Sylvanas drew a crescent-shaped line while she spoke. "Meanwhile to the west there are two areas where the river can easily be forded, should we decide to attack in that direction instead."
Leaning heavily on her cane, Katherine jerked her head towards the cluster of Waycrest troops represented by black tokens. Currently they were sitting alongside the green and purple tokens denoting the Drust and Horde forces respectively. "Lucille and I will ford the river. We'll take the Waycrest infantry and cavalry, and make the Ashvanes think we're going to push hard for their flank. They'll need to divert quite a few men to head us off. That should thin their ranks enough for you to take the town in a frontal assault."
When Lucille's name was spoken, she glanced at Katherine. Not with surprise, which Sylvanas had expected, but with gratitude that there would be an experienced guiding hand helping her along. She leaned forward to arrange the tokens as Katherine had suggested. When she had done so, suddenly the Ashvane forces holding the town were equal to the Drust and Horde's. They would still be holding a defensible position, though. And the numbers advantage granted by the Waycrest movements was better than mother, but unideal..
"Be aggressive, but not too aggressive," Jaina said. "I would hate to see the Lord Admiral shot down in a land battle."
Katherine let loose a bark of laughter. "No. You're right. A Lord Admiral should die at sea, as the Tides intended."
Remaining silent, Sylvanas licked at the backs of her teeth in a contemplative manner. Nathanos was watching her carefully. "Is there something wrong, my Queen?"
Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at the map. "No," she murmured after a moment. "It's a good plan. We will go ahead with it."
Katherine gave a curt nod, pleased at her plan being so easily approved by the others. "Well, Lucille," she said, starting to limp towards the exit. "We ought to find our own tents before it gets too late. Nothing like a poor night's sleep to ruin a battle."
"I will show you to yours." Lucille very nearly hopped to attention to follow after her.
In another life, she would have made an excellent Captain, given the chance and the right commander. Eager to please, but ultimately lacking in her own vision. Sylvanas had known many Ranger-Captains like her. Had she not been born to a Great House, she doubtlessly would have lived an unremarkable life. Which, to her credit, probably would have been preferable to the excitement that had already been crammed into her life so far.
Turning to Nathanos and Velonara, Sylvanas said, "Give the orders. Make sure the officers know the plan."
With a bow, they too left.
Outside, the non-stop clamour of artillery had crept to a desultory halt. Both sides would have been running low on munitions, keeping enough for the battle proper, but otherwise finished trading blows for now. The lamps that had been lit in the tent were now necessary to see, as night had swept over Drustvar. The sounds of soldiers and oxen and horses wound their way through the canvas walls. There was no such thing as privacy in a military camp. Everyone practically atop everyone else. And at any moment, someone might burst into the tent with report of enemy movements.
Sylvanas picked up one of the red Ashvane tokens from the centre of the town map, and frowned at it.
"Nathanos was right," Jaina said. "Something is troubling you."
Though the tent was now empty but for the two of them, Jaina had not moved away; they still stood close enough together that their arms brushed. Shaking her head, Sylvanas set the token back down, angling it so that the line of Waycrest forces was curved in an encircling crescent across the Reilig.
"No," she said. "It’s fine."
The skull mask watched her impassively. "You're lying again. You know, I thought you'd be better at this."
"Battle?"
"No. Lying."
Shooting her an ugly look, Sylvanas rounded the table and headed for the exit. "You're the only person who's ever told me that."
"Not even your siblings?" Jaina followed, ducking to get through the canvas flap after Sylvanas.
"We are not talking about my family," Sylvanas said firmly.
That comment earned her an odd look from the remaining guards outside of the tent. Straightening her shoulders, Sylvanas stalked off in the direction of the artillery still lined up along the hill. She heard Jaina murmur something to Adalyn, and then footsteps trailing after her. The stench of gunsmoke still burned in the air, but it was fading. The winds were not as harsh here as they were further south. At least her Rangers would be pleased by this change of pace.
She stopped when she had a good view of the town. Firelight flickered like motes of dust through the darkness. With the moon hidden behind a bank of cloud, the river snaked across the landscape, darkly gleaming.
"I didn't think you would be the type to run away from a situation you didn't like," said Jaina's voice behind her. Jaina herself stepped forward so that they stood side by side, facing Barrowknoll.
"The irony of you saying that does not escape me," Sylvanas countered.
"At least I'm honest with myself."
"Do you always look for a fight when you're nervous?"
"I'm not looking for a fight."
"Then you might consider not baiting me further." Sylvanas' voice slipped to a lower note, something more dangerous. A warning.
Jaina had no reply to that. They fell silent. Sylvanas was content to let that silence stretch, when Jaina asked, "What would you do, if you were me?"
Glancing over at her, Sylvanas raised her eyebrows. “You’re actually asking my opinion?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“When has that ever made a difference?”
“I’m curious. Indulge me.” When Sylvanas still said nothing, Jaina sighed. “You didn’t like my mother’s plan. Why?”
“I liked it just fine,” said Sylvanas evasively. “It’s very conventional.”
“But you don’t like conventional and obviously would do something different.”
Turning her eyes back to Barrowknoll, Sylvanas scanned the area for weaknesses through the gloom. The Ashvanes had gotten the upper hand in every regard. They had cut off the retreat to Fallhaven. They had taken the defensible position. They had more munitions, more soldiers, more time. Even if they simply waited, the combined Wacyrest, Horde and Drust forces would need to give up and find shelter or risk losing their lives to ice and disease through winter.
Well, the Waycrest and Drust, perhaps. Not her Undead. And maybe not the Drust, now that she thought about it.
Sylvanas nodded, pointing to the east. “That swamp. They’re treating it like it’s an impassable wall. I would order the cavalry to screen our left flank. Then, I would throw everything at the centre, draw the enemy in, and when the fighting to the south starts to thicken, I would send an unarmoured division across by foot to flank them by surprise.”
“The artillery wouldn’t be able to support them,” Jaina said. “There’s no way you're getting cannons into that bog.”
With a shrug, Sylvanas replied, “If their sacrifice would mean my victory, then so be it.”
“Such sacrifices aren’t always necessary. And from what I understand, there aren’t many of your people that remain.”
“And to which people would you be referring?”
“You know which.”
Pursing her lips, Sylvanas gazed out over the night-darkened fields. Beside her Jaina shifted her staff between her hands almost nervously. Noticing this, Sylvanas remarked, “You haven’t seen much battle, have you?”
“Not as much as you, perhaps. But I’ve seen enough,” Jaina answered, her tone grim. “Enough to know that being a military leader is not my first choice of professions, by any stretch of the imagination. Unlike some of us.”
Sylvanas peered sidelong at her. “You think I wanted to be Warchief? Or even Ranger-General, for that matter?”
“I don’t -”
“No,” Sylvanas interrupted coolly. “You don’t. So, I would suggest you keep your assumptions to yourself.”
The skull mask swung towards her in silent contemplation. Finally, Jaina said, “you’re awfully good at being a war leader.”
With a soft grunt, Sylvanas looked back towards Barrowknoll. “People get good at what they do. In time, you will grow to be a perfectly serviceable Lord Admiral.”
A self-deprecating laugh was Jaina’s answer. “Well, I don’t know what I was so worried about, then. That’s high praise from you.”
“I have very exacting standards,” Sylvanas agreed.
“Careful,” Jaina warned, and even though Sylvanas could not see her face her words were playful and chiding. “That’s twice you’ve flattered me, now. A girl might get ideas.”
It was Sylvanas’ turn for a huff of self-deprecating laughter, almost a scoff. She gave Jaina a dismissive wave. “Go. Try to get some sleep. My people and I will keep watch.”
She expected some resistance, but Jaina simply inclined her head and left.
The night was short, and nothing at all interesting happened. No raids. No alarms. The Ashvane forces were risking nothing for the sake of initiative. They kept their position, confident in their safety in numbers. They sent no more scouts. They slept until the first grey watery light of dawn crept over the horizon.
They were, in short, complacent. Sylvanas liked that in an enemy. It was a refreshing change of pace.
The morning was misty and dim. The foothills to the west appeared almost idyllic, until they sloped into the fields torn up by artillery fire. All through the night, the bold red medical tents had worked, tending to those wounded in the exchanging barrage. When the camp was packed up, the medical tents were some of the few that remained behind to continue their work away from the fight.
By the time all the troops had been organised into position, it was only a few hours until midday. The sky remained overcast, but mercifully free of rain. Not that it helped much. The ground was still horrible and soggy. It reminded Sylvanas too much of fighting in the rainy jungles of Zul'Aman. She had bad memories of leather boots completely rotting away after being saturated with mud for weeks.
Sylvanas was sitting atop her skeletal horse beside Jaina on her stag, when Anya rode up beside her. Breaking away from her conversation with Jaina, Sylvanas gave Anya a once-over. "I don't recall issuing you a Waycrest cavalry coat."
"I won it," Anya said smugly.
"Along with a great many other things, I'm sure."
"There's a helmet that comes with it, too."
"Is this your way of telling me that you want to ride with Velonara in the Waycrest division?"
"No," Anya replied. "I will be guarding you while Nathanos heads the troops."
"Do I get any say in the matter?"
Anya did not answer.
"Wonderful," Sylvanas sighed. She shifted in her saddle to turn towards Jaina. "Whenever you are ready."
Jaina's deer stamped one of its cloven hooves. Her head slowly turned as she swept her gaze over the troops arranged on the field before them. A mass of uniform colour to their left being the Waycrest troops in three block formations, along with a cavalry screen. And a mismatch of Undead and Druids in various forms comprising the solid blocks of infantry directly ahead. Lucille and Katherine could be seen with the Waycrest cavalry, surrounded by a cluster of other officers on foot and on horseback.
Jaina nodded towards their own cluster of officers in attendance. Flags were waved. Trumpets were sounded. And the Waycrest forces began their march towards the river.
In the town, large numbers of troops in red coats were broken up by the buildings. But in the fields behind them, even more Ashvane troops were arrayed in formation. Across the distance, more horns were raised, and the bulk of the Ashvane troops began to move in lockstep with the Waycrest's, both angling towards one another across the river. The only advantage of Katherine and Lucille's lesser numbers was that it allowed them to move more quickly.
Sylvanas leaned forward in her saddle to better watch as they forded the river before the Ashvane troops could cut off their advance. The moment the first Waycrest infantry had crossed the river, Sylvanas turned to one of the Forsaken officers nearby. "You there, get those guns firing again," she ordered. Then she said to another, "And you, sound the advance."
With a bony-handed salute, both of them trotted off to do as commanded. Soon, the artillerymen behind them were scurrying about the cannons. The first round of artillery fire of the morning sent a flock of startled birds into flight from the bog to their west. Sylvanas could feel the shudder of the earth even atop her horse. And then, they began to march.
It was a slow steady plod through the mud. The officers brought up the rear just to the left of the advancing soldiers, leading a small cohort of reserve troops that would be able to accomplish very little on their own should it come to that. Enemy fire roared out in answer from the town. Cannons ripped through the advance, sending sprays of mud through the air flecked with blood and teeth as men fell screaming. But for every enemy shot, two were stalled by the presence of their own artillery blasting away at the town. More still were stopped completely by magical shields thrown up by clusters of Druids arranged along the infantry ranks for just that purpose. The shields flashed across the air in front of the advance, deflecting cannon balls into the mud, where they bounced away or cracked into pieces like shrapnel.
One such cannon hurtled in the direction of the reserve troops, but Jaina raised her hand and it shattered in a fan of iron ore like a wave breaking against a pane of impenetrable glass. Sylvanas had never been so grateful to have mages fighting on her side.
From the east, Sylvanas could hear the pop of shots fired. Her ears twitched towards the noise. She stood in her stirrups in an attempt to see what was happening, but the ground from Barrowknoll sloped gently upwards towards that direction. Lowering herself back into her saddle, she asked, "Do we have eyes on the Waycrest forces?"
Jaina turned to Adalyn, who was trotting alongside the stag in the form of a sabre. "Go get vision and come back."
Without question, Adalyn turned into a raven and swept off into the air. She returned a few minutes later and landed on Jaina's shoulder to whisper in her ear.
"They have engaged in earnest," Jaina relayed to Sylvanas. "Nobody has given ground yet. The cavalry are attempting to outflank one another, but Hayles is holding his own."
Sylvanas spoke directly to Adalyn. "Get flying again and keep us informed. I want to know exactly if and when someone starts to buckle."
In response, the raven gave Sylvanas an extremely unpleasant look with one black and beady eye. But Jaina murmured something in a low tone. With a caw of complaint, Adalyn nevertheless took flight from Jaina's shoulders, wheeling back towards the east.
The main advance on Barrowknoll slowed when they reached the river. Soldiers lifted their arms above their head to keep their muskets dry as they crossed. The Ashvane forces continued to fire from their position. Their artillery were beginning to run low on ammunition, but a line of muskets would aim and take fire over the groundworks, while others took shots from the second story of the ruined church, and even from the rooftops of nearby buildings. It may have just been a mound of dirt built as tall as a man and stretching in a crescent shape between the river and the town, but the earthworks was enough to give them cover for any returning fire launched in their direction. The Ashvane soldiers would duck back behind the earthworks when lightning was called from the sky, sending sprays of earth in all directions and leaving behind the stench of burnt ozone and flesh.
Sylvanas and Jaina remained on the other side of the river with their reserve troops and cluster of officers. Even though Adalyn did as told and returned with regular updates on the enemy position, Sylvanas urged her skeletal horse to pace along the riverbanks to and fro. Anya shadowed her every movement, along with a few Forsaken and a Tauren in the form of a bear with streaks of green warpaint on his fur. Glowing crimson eyes trained along the fight, searching every angle for a hint of weakness. A gap, perhaps. A flagging flank. A faint faltering of morale. The stench of gunsmoke was acrid and thick. It clouded vision beyond a hundred yards even for her excellent eyesight.
The Horde and Drust line were fighting to take the earthworks, both sides using the long mound of compacted dirt as cover, neither willing to commit to a charge, lest they be met with deadly resistance on the other side.
"Find anything of interest?" Jaina asked when Sylvanas rode back to the reserve troops.
Yanking on her reins and wheeling her horse around, Sylvanas shook her head. "Not yet. I still don't like our numbers. We need to find an advantage. Preferably more than one."
In front of them, a surge of red-coated troops washed over the earthworks on their left with a battlecry for Kul Tiras. They scrambled atop the mound of dirt and shot down upon the Horde and Drust flank. Flashes of flame spouted from the muzzles of their muskets as the gunmen made space for infantry with pikes to push their advantage. The Ashvane pikemen shoved against their left flank like a wall of living spears, while the Forsaken chopped at the pikes with hooks and axes, or otherwise stabbed at exposed feet in an attempt to break the sudden counterpush.
When the Horde and Drust flank began to cave slightly into a fish hook shape, Sylvanas tensed. She drew her bow from her back, hands steady and expression grim. Before she could fire a single shot however, a druid on the front lines of the left flank was stabbed in the shoulder with a spear. He flung back his head with a bellowing roar that shuddered the air. His body bristled and grew massive, and he swiped at the wall of spears mid-transformation into an enormous bear. Thunder careened from his paw, shattering a huge gap into the pikemen. He lunged through, his massive jaws closing around the throat of an Ashvane pikeman and shaking like a dog with a rat. Forsaken poured after him, using the space he created to push back the counterattack. Swords flashed, and the Ashvane pikemen trying to retreat back over the earthworks slipped in pools of their own blood. Forsaken soldiers fell upon them like wolves, hacking them to pieces before scrambling to pursue the rest over the artificial hillock.
Slowly Sylvanas lowered her bow. "That was a welcome development, at least."
Beside her, Jaina hummed in agreement. "The break between Lord Stormsong and Lady Ashvane is more serious than we thought."
Sylvanas frowned at her. "What do you mean?"
The skull turned and Jaina's voice was positively gleeful. "You didn't notice? That magic wasn't counteracted. They don't have Tidesages. Or if they do, they're certainly not here."
Sylvanas' eyes widened in understanding. She wheeled her horse around to start giving commands, but Jaina beat her to it.
"Concentrate what druids we have onto the front," Jaina snapped to an officer standing nearby. "Have them break up the enemy line. Tell them to expect only physical resistance."
"What about those we've reserved as Healers?" the officer asked.
"They can stay where they are," Jaina said.
Immediately, the officer raised a hand to her temple in a salute, then rushed off to do as she was told. She took a group of the reserve troops to escort her across the river and relay the orders. Meanwhile, Jaina rounded on what remained of the reserve units.
"The rest of you," she said, lifting her voice. They all straightened, their faces eager and steely beneath their helms. "Push hard into their right flank! I want that church taken as a foothold in the next hour! Go!"
What remained of the officers began relaying orders to start the march. Soon, the reserve troops were crossing the river to support their forces on the left, where the fight was raging the thickest. The Ashvane forces were faltering, giving ground slowly but steadily. Word of the new orders must have reached the front lines, for lightning careened down from the sky with a deafening crack. It struck the church, where a group of Ashvane musketmen had been raining down shots onto the approaching Horde and Drust. Those that weren't struck dead, were left reeling, fumbling for cover as another blast of lightning rained down upon them.
Sylvanas had slung her bow back over her shoulder, but her fingers itched for the weapon. Where she had seen no chaos to take advantage of before, she now saw it everywhere. Every hard-earned instinct and years of experience were telling her to leap into the fray, embolden the troops, take the victory for herself, as she knew she could. She was tightening her hand on the reins, preparing to do just that, when Jaina spoke beside her.
"Sylvanas, I want you to come with me to the western banks."
Her head jerked around, her long ears slanting back in a mixture of surprise and aversion. "What?" she asked. Rising up in her stirrups, she looked to the west, but saw nothing of interest. The Ashvane line was faltering directly to their left, but to their right, the enemy was still holding strong. "Why on earth would we go there?"
"I mean to overrun them."
"With what troops?" Sylvanas waved towards their left, where the reserve troops were starting to fight tooth and nail over the church, even as they repelled an attempted counterflank from a platoon of bold Ashvane musketmen hoping to catch them in enfilade fire.
“Leave that to me.”
Jaina started off towards the west without another word. Swearing, Sylvanas turned to Anya and said, "You stay here. Help Nathanos hold the line."
Anya shook her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but Sylvanas cut her off. "That's not a question, Anya. You will do this."
With a glower at her queen, Anya looked like she was going to fight against the order still, but eventually she turned back to the remaining small cluster of officers and began issuing commands. Satisfied, Sylvanas wheeled her skeletal horse around and followed Jaina.
No troops followed them. Not even a handful of guards. Sylvanas kept a careful watch on the enemy through the gaps of buildings, but nobody was paying any attention to two people slipping away from the thick of the fight. They might as well have been deserters fleeing the battle. When they reached the swamp, Jaina dismounted and continued on foot, leaving her stag behind. Sylvanas jerked at her own reins and called after her, "What the hell are we doing out here?"
Jaina did not turn around. She continued picking her way through the bog. "You said you wanted another advantage? I’m getting us reinforcements."
"What reinforcements?"
"Just come along already."
Grinding her teeth, Sylvanas slipped from the saddle and trudged after her. The bog was a mess. There was very little hard ground upon which to stand. Tall tussock grass masqueraded as safety, only for Sylvanas' foot to plunge into hip deep water and mud. She had to claw her way out, cursing all the while. By the time Jaina stopped, the hems of her robes were drenched, and Sylvanas' armour would need a thorough cleaning all around.
In Barrowknoll, the fighting continued. From here, Sylvanas could not see the Waycrest troops further east. She tried rising up on her toes, but only sank a few more inches into a bit of mud.
"I am beginning to lose patience," Sylvanas hissed.
Jaina ignored her. She was kneeling on the ground at the edge of a deep pool of water. She held out her hand towards Sylvanas. "Your knife. Give it to me."
"No." Sylvanas crossed her arms. "Explain first. Knife later."
"Really?" Jaina glanced at her in exasperation. When Sylvanas refused to budge, Jaina rolled her eyes. She gestured all around them. "You wanted to know what was so special about this place? Bogs are sacred burial sites for Drust. This one in particular was used for generations to inhume the Drust dead. Now, give me your knife."
With a frown, Sylvanas begrudgingly handed over the silver hunting knife. Jaina took it, and then pulled out a very familiar looking singed wicker man from a pocket of her cloak. She placed both before her, and then fumbled around in a pouch for another reagent. When she withdrew a stag's black and shrivelled heart, she placed it over the wicker man's chest. A quick flash of the blade over the back of her arm drew a bright line of blood along her skin, and then Jaina plunged the knife through the heart and the wicker man, staking them together.
She began to mumble in an ancient tongue. The sound echoed from the depths of the skull mask, growing louder as though joined by a chorus, chanting the words back to her. The air around her writhed, and the wicker man caught alight. It began to burn beneath her hands, but the fire did not consume the wicker man the way it should, as though the mass of twigs were still resisting the touch of flame.
And from the depths of the bog, a hand reached up. Sylvanas watched as more followed, and corpses began to drag themselves from the water and mud. Their bodies were preserved as though mummified, shrunken and wet, dyed dark from the peat. Bits of bone jutted from shoulders and arms, knees and spines. Jaina's droning chant reached its zenith, and an army of the dead rose to answer her call.
Sylvanas stared. An undead nearest her waited blankly for a command, as did all the others. There was no sentience left within them. They were empty vessels. Ghouls animated by a greater will.
Before her, Jaina rose to her feet. Through the dark sockets of the mask, her eyes blazed with pale fire. Leaving the wicker effigy burning upon the ground, she turned to Sylvanas. "Now, we can go."
"How long will this spell last?"
"Until the fire burns out. We have only a few hours." Jaina stepped over the wicker man, looking towards Barrowknoll. "You will get your knife back, then."
Warily, Sylvanas followed as Jaina began to stride from the bog and towards the town. Thousands of ghouls shambled blindly after them. As they drew nearer fording the eastern side of the river, Ashvane troops began pointing furiously in their direction. An alarm was raised, a frantic horn blaring a single note over and over again as the red-coated soldiers attempted to rearrange themselves in time.
Clambering up onto the opposite shore, Jaina pointed at the line of red-coated soldiers and shouted a gutteral word in that ancient tongue. Behind her, the ghouls shrieked in response, an unearthly wail that Sylvanas had heard all too many times, before they rushed forward on all fours. Shots fired out from the lines of gunmen among the Ashvane ranks, but before they could get off even a second volley, the ghouls were upon them. No amount of shot could stop their charge. Musket balls embedded themselves in rotting flesh, accomplishing little. Rows of pikemen lowered their spears and tried to shove them back. Others still drew swords and began hacking at the undead masses. Impaled ghouls continued clawing their way down the spears, and severed arms twitched along the ground.
Jaina herself waded into the thick of the fight. She towered over the shambling army of undead, bloodied, crowned in antlers, eyes blazing like twin points of flame. When she swept her hand, broad blades of frost sliced through the air, cutting through swathes of enemy soldiers. When she clenched her hand into a fist, a clump of Ashvane troops were encased in ice, frozen in rictus agony.
A platoon aimed down their sights towards Jaina, and Sylvanas drew back an arrow. Whispers of death magic darkened its tip, and the arrow exploded with the echo of a banshee’s wail upon its destination. The musketmen dropped their weapons to clasp their hands over their ears, crying out in pain. She managed to shoot a few more arrows before the ghouls overwhelmed them, claiming that platoon for the dead.
Sylvanas tried to regain her bearings in the chaos. In a few lithe motions she had climbed atop the shattered roof of a house to get better ground, her bow half-drawn and ready to fire. In the centre of the town, the Horde and Drust soldiers were beginning to renew their attack, emboldened by the sudden presence of reinforcements from the east. The Ashvanes were suddenly the ones on the back foot, forced to hold their ground as an onslaught came now from two sides.
A platoon of Ashvane musketmen noticed her position. They fired a volley of shots at her position. Sylvanas ducked. Chips of stone flew around her as the gun fire missed and hit the stone walls of the building. In the time it took for them to reload, she had made most of them pincushions; they fell to the ground grasping at black-fletched arrows that stuck from their throats and chests, gurgling on pools of their own blood.
Below her, a group of Ashvane troops managed to hold their ground against the oncoming ghouls by funneling the undead into a spear wall and shooting over the pikemen. One of the soldiers saw Jaina advancing past their position, and in a fit of bravery near madness he threw down his musket, drew his sword and charged for her. She turned just as he slashed his blade in an upward strike, narrowly missing but managing to knock her mask loose.
She stumbled back a step. The skull went careening onto the ground, one of the points of the antlers breaking off in the scuffle as ghouls continued to press past her. When she straightened once more, her eyes blazed. She loomed over the soldier. He swung his sword down like a cleaver, but Jaina grabbed his wrist, halting the blow. Sylvanas had an arrow drawn to shoot him, but stopped. With her other hand, Jaina was lifting the soldier by the scruff of his neck until his toes dangled above the ground. He dropped the sword. It clattered at her feet. Grasping at her forearm, he opened his mouth to scream but instead veins of black crawled across the skin of his face. As Jaina drained the life from him, vines burst from the ground, curling around the other soldiers and dragging them down into the earth.
When Jaina tossed his lifeless corpse aside as though he were a ragdoll, Sylvanas leapt easily down from the building, landing beside her. "I didn't know Druids were in the habit of practising necromancy."
"You didn't ask." Jaina nodded towards the rooftop. "What's the situation?"
Casually, Sylvanas lifted her bow and fired an arrow at an Ashvane soldier as she answered. "I don't know how Katherine and Lucille are doing, but our forces in the town are gaining the upper hand."
"Then we should press on and finish this quickly."
"Agreed."
Jaina smiled down at her. "Is this unconventional enough for you?"
An army of ghouls, summoned by the will of a powerful mage with an aura of icy menace was far too familiar, in fact. But Sylvanas merely said, "It will suffice. Shall we?"
Nodding, Jaina rounded on the next line of soldiers already being set upon by the undead.
Within the next few hours, they had managed to push the Ashvane army back, capturing the town and sending red-coated soldiers fleeing north east for Fallhaven. Barrowknoll was a ruin of its former self. Some of the buildings burned, their thatched roofs caved inwards in a shower of sparks and ash. Drust infantry had begun rounding up prisoners. Whenever the Forsaken drew too close, the Ashvane soldiers would panic and draw their blades or raise their pistols or otherwise cower or try to run away, thinking that all of the Undead were ghouls like those Jaina had summoned from the bog. The ghouls themselves were slowly trudging back south. Some crawled their torsos across the ground. Others had been chopped to pieces, and the twitching life animating them was beginning to ease.
Sylvanas' quiver had long since run out of arrows, and she had been forced to steal a sword from the body of a dead Ashvane soldier. Its blade was caked with dried blood. She herself was still covered in mud and gore. While she may not have sweat any longer, she was still looking forward to the day being over so she could have a bath.
Jaina was issuing commands to a group of Drust soldiers and assorted druids, who nodded and rushed off to do her bidding. She still had not donned the skull mask since it had been knocked from her head during the fight. She looked haggard from holding onto the spell for so long, though she hid the raw weariness in her bones. Strands of hair had come loose from her braid and now stuck to the side of her neck and cheek. She swept them aside irritably as she approached Sylvanas, but that only sent a swipe of coagulated blood across her jaw from her bloodied hands. Her eyes still blazed with pale fire, though it was fading as the spell began to slowly wane.
Sylvanas tossed aside the sword she had stolen. "Any news from the Waycrest line?"
"In retreat," Jaina answered wearily. "It was a stalemate. Thanks to our push here, the Ashvanes are all pulling back."
Inclining her head, Sylvanas said, "Congratulations are in order, then."
"Are they?" Jaina asked. She looked around at the destruction of Barrowknoll. The wounded were being grouped up and triaged. Makeshift bandages were tied around limbs and faces. The worst of the lot were being carried away on stretchers back towards the healers tents, where more Druids would see to their injuries in due course. "I don't feel very victorious at the moment."
"Give it time."
"My Queen," said a familiar voice behind her.
Sylvanas turned to find Nathanos striding towards her. He wove his way through a group of prisoners, most of whom shied away from his presence. His twin axes were sheathed at his belt, and his own quiver of arrows was as empty as her own.
He bowed and stopped before her. "Forgive me, but I didn’t recognise you beneath all the mud. Otherwise, I would have come sooner.”
“What is it?” Sylvanas sighed.
“Lady Waycrest and the Lord Admiral have crossed the river. They will be here momentarily."
"Very well." Sylvanas turned back towards Jaina then paused.
Jaina had gone white as a sheet. She reached up to touch her own face as if only just now realising that she no longer wore the mask. Her fingers trembled.
"Shit," Jaina hissed, frantically looking around her.
"This way," Sylvanas said, and began to walk towards the position they had been in where Jaina had lost it.
Jaina was hot on her heels. She kept her head ducked, as though afraid her mother would round every corner and come face to face with her. When they came upon the site however, the mask was nowhere to be seen. With a frown, Sylvanas swept her gaze over the area. She eventually found it behind some wooden rubble that had fallen loose from the barricades during the fight.
Picking it up off the ground, Sylvanas brushed it free of as much mud as she could. However, Jaina was already reaching out for it. The flames of her eyes had dwindled nearly to normal by this point, and her expression was agitated. Their hands brushed as Sylvanas handed it to her. Jaina shot her one last grateful glance before pulling the mask over her head and covering her face once more.
The sound of horse hooves and the jangle of tack announced the arrival of what remained of the Waycrest cavalry accompanying Katherine and Lucille. The two of them rode up looking unscathed. Behind them Captain Hayles sported a sabre cut on his upper arm. He handled his reins with his good hand. Jaina checked her mask for a second time as if to reassure herself that it was actually there before turning to face them.
Katherine pulled back on the reins. “Glad to see you’re both still alive,” she said by way of greeting, then glanced apologetically at Sylvanas. “Mostly.”
"How many dead?" Lucille asked.
Sylvanas looked to Nathanos for an answer, and he said, "About four hundred casualties."
"Which brings the total to seven hundred and fifty," Katherine said. "Not bad, all things considered. It could have been much worse."
"Better than the Ashvanes," Jaina replied. She sounded far more calm than she had looked just moments ago.
Katherine grinned down at her. "Oh, yes. They'll be feeling the sting of this for a while. We ought to consider our next move before they have too much time to regroup."
With a nod, Sylvanas said, "We'll meet you back at camp this evening to discuss it. For now, let us tend to the wounded and prisoners. If we're lucky, we captured someone worth ransoming."
"That would be nice," Lucille sighed wistfully.
"Until later, then." Inclining her head, Katherine wheeled her white Kul Tiran charger about and headed back across the river towards camp. Lucille and the rest of the Waycrest cavalry followed.
The moment her mother was out of sight, Jaina's shoulders relaxed slightly. Sylvanas could have sworn she heard her breathe a sigh of relief behind that skull mask.
"Nathanos," Sylvanas said. "Find Anya and get everything cleaned up."
"And where are you going?" he asked.
She had already turned and begun striding off towards the bog. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "To retrieve something of mine. I'll not be long."
He did not trail after her. She could hear him begin exchanging words with Jaina, but Sylvanas did not linger to hear what they were discussing.
Most of the ghouls had made it back into the bog, clambering to their final resting place. A few were still struggling to crawl the last stretch of distance. Sylvanas might have felt more pity for them had they any sort of sentience left. As it was, she strode through their ranks unaffected. They paid her no heed. They hungered only for the flesh of the living. To them, she might as well have not existed.
Seeing them at all brought back unpleasant memories of her days shackled to the Scourge. If the spell binding them had been indefinite, she might have had strong words with Jaina. As it was, Sylvanas pursed her lips and continued striding through the bog. And all the while, that unpleasant feeling remained, as if something was wrong that she just had not yet discovered, as though all these carefully laid plans were about to be unraveled by one loose thread.
She found the wicker man still smouldering. The heart pinned to its chest was black and shrivelled and flaking away into hard clumps of ash. When she reached down and pulled her blade free, the wicker man seemed to give a little wail, though that may have been the wind rustling through the bog. She wiped the silver blade clean on a ragged corner of her cloak -- it would need a proper cleaning later -- and sheathed it in her boot.
Turning to head back towards the camp to the east, Sylvanas paused with a frown. Not far off across the bog, a Forsaken soldier was waving at her with a cheerful dessicated hand. Their face was obscured by a helmet. They approached her with a bounce in their step, clattering like bones in a tin can. It took them a while to reach her across the mud.
"Can I help you?" Sylvanas asked in Gutterspeak.
A familiar voice reverberated from inside the helm. "Woah. I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded awesome. Can you say it again?"
Face screwing up in bewilderment, she said, "Arthur?"
Arthur flipped up the visor of his helm, revealing his rotting face. "Hullo!"
Sylvanas stared at him. The skin of his lower jaw looked like it had been peeled away from the bone by claws. He appeared partially mummified, as though the moisture had begun to leech from his body when he had died, leaving him brittle and brownish, like the last leaf clinging bravely to a tree in autumn.
Finally she said in a flat tone, "You're Undead."
He smiled a ghastly smile. "Yeah! Of course! I thought you knew that?"
"I did not." Sylvanas pursed her lips. "How long have you been like this?"
He shrugged. "Since Thros. So, you know, a few years. Seven, maybe? I can’t remember very well, to be honest."
"Ah." Realisation dawned on her then. "Gorak Tul raised you."
But Arthur shook his head. "Oh! No, no! Jaina did!"
Sylvanas tensed. Her eyes widened. "She -- what?"
"Arthur."
Their heads snapped round at the sound of Jaina's sharp voice. She stood alone near the edge of the river. Her skull mask was tucked beneath one arm, and her face was pale. She jerked her free hand in a gesture for Arthur to approach her. He trotted over to her without question, clanking and squelching through the mud all the way.
"Go help Tavery and the others tend the wounded," Jaina ordered.
Arthur blinked in surprise at her brusque tone. His smile slipped. "Okay," he said uncertainly.
As he turned to leave however, Jaina stopped him. She cupped his withered face with one hand, and her expression softened. With a sad smile, she gently patted his desiccated cheek. "Off with you, now. Don't cause too much trouble."
And with a parting grin, Arthur transformed into a raven and took wing back towards the town. Jaina watched him leave, waiting until he was well and truly gone before turning to face Sylvanas.
"What," Sylvanas said in a voice that was far too calm. "is going on?"
Jaina did not answer. She walked over, cradling the skull mask as though it were a shield between them.
Mindless ghouls were one thing. But this was something else entirely.
Lifting her hand, Sylvanas pointed towards the direction where Arthur had flown. "You raised him from the grave?"
Jaina's jaw was squared bullishly, but her eyes were guilty. She stopped only a pace away. "Yes,” she said.
"Why?" Sylvanas hissed.
“It’s not what you think,” Jaina insisted.
“Why?” Sylvanas repeated, taking a step forward and glowering up at her.
"Because," Jaina said, but stopped to draw a deep breath. "Because I’m the reason he died. And I would have hated myself for not trying."
With a wave around at the bog, at the mindless dead still settling themselves back into their watery graves, Sylvanas asked, “Did you even give him the choice?”
Jaina opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She shut it with a click of teeth.
Sylvanas could feel her own lip curl in disgust. “Of course, you didn’t.”
“He -!” Jaina started to say, and paused to collect herself before continuing. “He didn’t deserve that end. He deserved a chance to -”
Sylvanas did not give her the opportunity to finish. She bared her teeth, eyes blazing. “Don’t lie to yourself. You did it because you are selfish.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaina spat.
At that, Sylvanas laughed and it was an ugly sound.
Jaina’s expression was stricken. She held her mask so tightly her fingers trembled. “Stop it,” she said, her voice growing louder as Sylvanas continued to laugh. “Stop! You weren’t there! You don’t know what happened!”
Sylvanas stopped laughing, but her lips were still pulled into a savage smile. “I can guess well enough. It doesn’t take a leap of genius to see that your irreparable hero complex and that boy’s fate are linked.”
“That’s not -! It wasn’t -! I did it because it wasn’t fair!”
“What? Dying? Nothing is more fair than death,” Sylvanas sneered, and she parroted back the words Jaina had used against her during their first encounter. “Everybody dies. I didn’t think I would need to lecture a druid on that topic.”
Jaina flung her skull mask onto the ground. “It’s not fair that I got to come back, but he didn’t!”
Sylvanas’ head jerked back as though she had been physically struck. “What?”
“I told you. Back when you first came to Gol Inath. You said everyone thought that I had been killed during the Drust incursion. Well,” Jaina gestured to herself. “I was. I died.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. I did.”
“No,” Sylvanas growled. “You didn’t.”
“Sylvanas -”
“If you had died, you wouldn’t be -” she pointed to Jaina, “- like this.”
Jaina gave a helpless little shrug. With only the two of them there, the bog was eerily quiet. Sounds of the military in the nearby town seemed muted across the stretch of water and mud. Or perhaps it was something else about this place that made it feel liminal, like visiting a tomb.
“All Druidism is about balance. The cycle of things. The Drust understand that better than anyone. Ulfar brought me back. A life for a life. I thought I could do the same with Arthur, but I was -” she swallowed past an obstruction, and then choked out a bitter laugh, “- a rare exception to the rule.”
Those words had been spoken before. Sylvanas could remember them clearly, when Jaina had jokingly said she couldn’t recommend a ‘cure’ for Undeath. Eyes narrowing, Sylvanas asked, “How?”
Jaina would not meet her gaze. She wrung her hands together and worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Gorak Tul dragged Arthur into Thros as bait. I knew it was a trap, but I was so confident I could -” Jaina had to stop to clear her throat. “I followed them. And when I got there, I fought Gorak Tul. I thought I could win. He blinded me, stabbed me, drowned me, and then hung me from a tree.”
With trembling fingers, Jaina tugged at the front of her robes. She slowly pulled the layers of fabric down just enough to reveal the scars. They were looped around her neck, and gouged into her chest just beneath her left collarbone. Ragged mortal wounds that had been healed over with livid pink scar tissue. Sylvanas could see the pulse leap at her throat, bold and bright and very much alive.
Jaina pulled her robes back into place. “We call it the Threefold Death. Among the Drust, it’s reserved for heroes, gods, and kings. It was given to me as a mockery. A reminder of my pride. Punishment for being foolish enough to think I was the hero foretold to bring about Gorak Tul’s downfall.” Her hand lingered at her throat. She stroked her fingers over the scarring left by whatever rope had strung her up in the air. “I don’t know how long I hung there until Ulfar found me. I remember being cut down, but the rest is...hazy.”
Sylvanas shook her head. “If you remember it, then you weren’t dead.”
“Thros is not like here. Life and death are intertwined there. But trust me. I was very dead.” She lowered her hand, clenching it into a fist at her side. “Prophecies tend to find a way to have some sort of self-fulfilling irony. And by killing me that way as a show of his contempt, Gorak Tul devised his own ruin. He made me that hero destined to defy death and be his downfall. And so, I was. I came back, and I was proclaimed High Thornspeaker for my deeds. Though I did not deserve it.”
It was like the last piece in a puzzle clicking into place, completing a picture. Katherine receiving news of her daughter's death. Lucille murmuring unsettling words about how different Jaina seemed after she emerged from the Crimson Forest. The ripped out pages of an old book on thrice-killed heroes and horned god-kings.
“All I hear is a tale of arrogance,” Sylvanas snapped. “You tell yourself the Drust understand ‘balance’ as if that means anything. You’re no better than a Lich.”
Jaina drew herself up to her full height and her expression grew stony, guarded. “I may have fallen to my pride once before, but I will not make that mistake again. I accepted your help, didn't I?"
“So, that’s why you changed your mind about this war? Because you think I’m like Arthur?” Sylvanas bared her fangs. “I am not some helpless young pup in need of a saviour.”
“I know that. And that’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it? Look around. You have clearly learned nothing.” Sylvanas flung a hand up in disgust and angled herself away so that she looked across the fields towards the camp miles eastward. “You should have left the dead well alone.”
“I had to do something.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Sylvanas was giving every indication that she would not be swayed by any argument. Her ears were slanted back. Her arms were crossed. Her glower could strip the paint from the hull of a ship.
And yet, Jaina ignored all those signs. She stepped around so that she stood before Sylvanas, and she said, “Didn’t you tell me you wished you were still alive?”
Shooting her an ugly look, Sylvanas growled, “That’s different. I wasn’t given a choice. If I had been given it, I would never would have chosen to be raised in the first place.”
“But what about now?”
Sylvanas’ brows drew down sharply. She faltered for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I’m saying: What if I gave you the choice now?”
It was then that she realised exactly what Jaina was offering. Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. As if sensing this hesitation like a hound scenting blood in the air, Jaina drew closer.
“You already told me you died three times. But you never did tell me exactly how you died.” Jaina began to circle around her, as though eyeing up a prime cut of meat at the market. “Were you wounded? Drowned? Poisoned, perhaps? Did you fall from a great height? Was your death inevitable, as if foretold? A cruel irony of fate?”
Sylvanas sucked in a sharp breath; it was a gut reaction, something she could not stop herself from doing. She remembered the long drop from Icecrown Citadel with savage clarity. Her lungs were still clogged with golden blossoms, the broad scar on her abdomen evidence of Frostmourne’s cold edge. And they never had retrieved the bullet lodged in her chest by Lord Godfrey; the iron pellet was rusting away somewhere between her vertebrae like a poisoned pellet.
When she was standing behind her, Jaina leaned forward to murmur in Sylvanas’ ear. “If I’m right, you might also be a rare exception to the rule.”
Sylvanas jerked her head away. She whirled about, taking a step back to put distance between them. Her eyes seared crimson. “Now, who is the liar?” she spat.
“I’m not lying.”
Ice plunged deep into Sylvanas’ chest. It felt like an all too familiar blade. Worse. It felt like hope. Her lips pulled back in a wordless snarl. Suddenly, Sylvanas wished she had arrows left in her quiver. The urge to nock her bow was strong enough that her hand nearly reached over her shoulder for it.
Jaina eyed her warily. “You would attack me and ruin this alliance you’ve fought so hard for?”
“I am seriously considering it.”
Jaina’s face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t understand. I’m offering you the choice that was never given to you. You should be pleased.”
“I don’t want to hear any more of this lunacy right now.” Sylvanas turned and began to stalk off through the bog in the direction of Barrowknoll.
“Sylvanas, wait -”
She felt the warmth of a hand brush against her arm. Immediately Sylvanas wrenched her arm away. In a single fluid motion, she drew her knife and whirled around. She had the blade pressed up against Jaina’s throat before Jaina could even blink.
“Don’t touch me,” Sylvanas hissed. “Not unless you want to die a fourth time.”
The edge of the blade whispered against the ragged edge of scar tissue. Sylvanas’ hand was white-knuckled around the hilt, her fist closed so tightly that veins of black magic bled into the silver handle, coiling at Jaina’s throat. Jaina gazed steadily down at her. There wasn’t the faintest flicker of fear in her eyes. “At least consider my offer. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Slowly Sylvanas pulled the knife away; they stood close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of Jaina’s chest against her own. She stepped back. “I won’t.”
Without another word, she left. And this time, Jaina did not try to stop her or even follow.
--
NOTES:
-for those of you who like maps, here’s one I prepared earlier:
-the fifth chapter I’ve added to the list is, predictably, going to be an epilogue from Jaina’s POV
-and for you Nine Years’ War aficionados, you’ll recognise the Battle of Barrowknoll as the Battle of the Boyne 2 this time with more zombies
#drust au#you search the mountain#sylvaina#sylvanas windrunner#jaina proudmoore#roman writes#this chapter took me forever good lord
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nampō Roku, Book 5 (66, 67): Concerning Incense and the Daisu.
66) If a kōro is displayed [on the daisu], when adding charcoal, [the host] should dispense with burning incense in the furo as [it is] unnecessary¹.
67) Genji [源氏]²・Gen-pei [源平]³・ji-shu [十種]⁴・Uji [宇治]⁵・kotori [小鳥]⁶・keburi-kurabe [烟クラヘ = 煙競]⁷ and the like: when such things will be enjoyed during the incense portion of an incense gathering, there is no situation where [the incense things] can be displayed on the daisu⁸.
[The utensils for these incense guessing-games] are displayed on the chigai-dana⁹.
_________________________
◎ The complete texts of the two entries covered in this post read:
〇 kōro kazari araba, sumi-tsugi-taru toki, furo ni ha kō taku-koto yōsha aru-beshi
[香爐カサリアラハ、炭次タル時、風爐ニハ香タクコト用捨アルヘシ];
〇 Genji・Gen-Pei・ji-shu・Uji・kotori・keburi-kurabe nado, kayō no kō-kata kō-kai no toki ha, daisu ni kazaru-koto nashi, chigai-dana ni kazaru-koto nari
[源氏・源平・十種・宇治・小鳥・烟クラヘ等、カヤウノ香方香會ノ時ハ、臺子ニカサルコトナシ、違棚ニカサルコト也].
¹Kōro kazari araba, sumi-tsugi-taru toki, furo ni ha kō taku-koto yōsha aru-beshi [香爐カサリアラハ、炭次タル時、風爐ニハ香タクコト用捨アルヘシ].
Yōsha [用捨] literally means “to use or discard” -- that is, to make a choice whether to do something or not. So, while this statement is actually saying that when it comes to the sumi-temae, the host should decide whether putting incense into the furo is necessary, or whether it is superfluous (since incense will be burned in the kōro during the gathering), the implication is that doing so is unnecessary.
²Genji [源氏].
This is a reference to an incense guessing-game called Genji-kō [源氏香], that some claim traces its origins back to the Heian period. As in all of the incense games that are mentioned here, the participants were divided into two teams (usually styled the East and the West), which competed against each other.
In this particular game, pieces of five varieties of kyara [伽羅] incense are divided among 25 kō-zutsumi [香包] (paper envelopes in which the pieces of incense are kept) -- though not every variety is made into five pieces -- and, after shuffling the envelopes, the contents are burned in sets of five.
After each set, each of the contestants announces which one of the 52 Genji-kō-no-zu [源氏香の圖] (below) corresponds to the sequence, by pronouncing the name of that zu. (While the contestants were actually supposed to memorize the symbols and their names, cheat-sheets in the shape of folding fans bearing the Genji-kō-no-zu began to appear in the Edo period.)
The other names in this series are also incense guessing-games that arose at different times between the Heian and Muromachi periods. Like the tea guessing-game tō-cha [闘茶], the contestants usually wagered on the outcome.
³Gen-Pei [源平].
Gen-pei-kō [源平香], which uses a gaming board (winning a match by correctly identifying the sample of kyara that was burned allowed the victor to claim a larger part of the board), is based on the battles between the Minamoto and Taira families.
⁴Ji-shu [十種].
Jishu-kō [十種香] is an alternate way of writing jishu-kō [十炷香] (hence the anomalous pronunciation), which means “ten burnings of incense.”
Though each of the schools include secret details in their respective versions of this game, all of the versions follow the same basic format: three known varieties of kyara [伽羅] are each divided into three pieces, with one piece placed into each of nine kō-zutsumi; and a different (unknown) variety is inserted into the tenth packet (hence the name).
The 10 kō-tsutsumi are shuffled, and then their contents are burned one by one. The winner is the person who identifies the largest number correctly.
⁵Uji [宇治].
This incense guessing-game is known as Uji-kō [宇治香], because the pretext for this game is the rivalry between Lord Kaoru (Kaoru daishō [薫大将]) and Prince Niou (Niou no miya [匂宮]), in the Uji [宇治] books of the Genji monogatari [源氏物語] (hence the name) -- as they (or their messengers) race back and forth between Kyōto and Uji.
In this game, four varieties of kyara are used. Two are sampled beforehand (with each of these assigned a poetic name -- for example, sakura [さくら], cherry, or kaede [かえで], maple), and the other two varieties are not sampled. Each of the sampled kinds is cut into four pieces, and these are enclosed separately in four kō-zutsumi, resulting in eight packets. One of the unsampled varieties is divided into three pieces, with in each enclosed in each of three tsutsumi; and one piece of the last is placed in the final tsutsumi. The twelve packets are shuffled, and the first and last are removed, leaving ten kō-zutsumi.
These packets are divided into sets of two, which are burned one after the other, before the contestants attempt to identify them. The one who identifies the largest number correctly wins, and so advances his token one step closer to the successful conclusion of his character’s suit for the hand of Ukifune.
⁶Kotori [小鳥].
In kotori-kō [小鳥香], five varieties of kyara are divided into individual kō-zutsumi, and these are divided into two groups of five each. After shuffling, one packet is shifted from one group to the other, and the two groups are shuffled again. Then the contents of five packets are burned successively.
If two (or more) of the samples are believed to be the same, the contestant announces this by speaking the name of some sort of small bird composed of five syllables (using the same kana for each of the samples that he believes are the same). For example, if the first and second are the same, while the other three are all different, the contestant might say something like “mo-mo-chi-do-ri” [ももちとり = 百千鳥] (which means a flock of sand pipers).
⁷Keburi-kurabe [烟クラヘ].
Keburi-kurabe [煙競] (which means “racing clouds of smoke”), apparently refers to the game that has been known as keba-kō [競馬香] since the Edo period: the pretext for this game is the horse race staged between the Upper and Lower Kamo shrines in Kyōto during the Aoi matsuri [葵祭] (Aoi Festival, which was held on the second tori-no-hi [酉の日; day of the rooster] in the Fourth Lunar Month).
Each of four kinds of kyara are divided into four kō-zutsumi, resulting in 16 kō-tsutsumi, of which one packet of each of the four kinds is removed (and sampled by the guests).
From the remaining twelve kō-tsutsumi, two are removed, and the remaining ten are burned one by one. Each correct answer advances that person's token one stage along the race course.
⁸Genji・Gen-pei・ji-shu・Uji・kotori・keburi-kurabe nado, kayō no kō-kata kō-kai no toki ha, daisu ni kazaru-koto nashi [源氏・源平・十種・宇治・小鳥・烟クラヘ等、カヤウノ香方香會ノ時ハ、臺子ニカサルコトナシ].
When the incense burner (or other incense utensils) are displayed on the daisu, the implication is that incense will be appreciated in the manner of the original (Korean) Shino family -- that is, as a meditative exercise aimed at achieving samadhi through a focus on the purified sense of smell. This idea seems to have been forgotten after the headship of that school passed into the hands of their Japanese disciples (after the death of the last member of the original family, Shino Shōha [志野省巴], in 1571): when the school was moved to Edo, after the establishment of that city, it was reinvented to imitate what was being done by the other incense schools, and this is the approach that is still taught today.
The incense guessing-games are the antithesis of the Shino family's methods -- as different as tō-cha [闘茶]* was from chanoyu. This is why the utensils associated with such games are prohibited from being exhibited on the daisu.
A gathering at which one of these games will be enjoyed is always considered a kō-kai [香會], even if tea will also be served†.
__________
*Tō-cha [鬪茶], to use the original kanji, was a guessing game in which two or more varieties of matcha, served as usucha, were offered to the guests in groups of five bowls. After drinking five bowls, each guest had to declare the order of the kinds of tea served -- distinguishing those made with tea grown in the tea fields (originally) belonging to the Kozan-ji [高山寺] at Togano-o-yama [栂尾山] (to the west of Kyōto), from tea that had been grown elsewhere.
The method of preparation imitated what was done in China: a temmoku (containing one scoop of matcha) was stood on a temmoku-dai, and offered to each guest. Then an attendant, carrying a bronze pitcher of hot water and a chasen (the handle of which he used to cover the spout of the pitcher, to slow the escape of steam), approached each guest, poured some hot water into the temmoku, and whisked the mixture into usucha. After drinking, the dai-temmoku were collected by an attendant and taken out of the room, to be cleaned before the next round. As with the incense guessing-games, the participants were divided into two teams, and there were multiple innings.
Tō-cha has nothing to do with chanoyu, and the two institutions were only conflated by Kanamori Sōwa [金森 宗和; 1584 ~ 1656], in his writings that were written in an attempt to argue that chanoyu predated the arrival of the Korean expatriates during the fifteenth century (which he produced on the orders of the Tokugawa bakufu).
†The only time that the appreciation of incense can be part of a cha-kai [茶會], according to Jōō, is when it follows the practice introduced by Shino Sōshin [志野宗信; ? ~ 1491] and his son [1443 ~ 1523], who used the same name as his father (both of whom arrived in Japan, from Korea, during the second half of the fifteenth century -- around the same time as Shukō also undertook the journey) and his family.
⁹Chigai-dana ni kazaru-koto nari [違棚ニカサルコト也].
When one of the incense guessing-games will be included in the kō-kai [香會], the incense things should be displayed on (or beneath) the chigai-dana -- as was discussed in Book Four of the Nampō Roku.
The inclusion of the service of tea (originally, using the daisu) during the second part of the kō-kai was introduced by the Shino family -- from whose gatherings Jōō took the inspiration for his cha-kai (as has been explained, in detail, previously in this blog).
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ashe x Marianne cause no one sees this damn ship like I do and dammit I need that content of this ship
IF I HAVE TO BE THE LAST MAN STANDING TO MAKE CONTENT FOR THIS SHIP, SO BE IT!
Thanks for the ask, anime-etpt! I hope you enjoy!
Sequel to this post (Honestly? This is one of my favorite short fic’s I’ve written)
—-
Confession for Dummies (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)
Ashe x Marianne
—-
Marianne
Ashe had been on her mind ever since they had dinner together.
In her head, the thoughts of ‘How much did I hurt his feelings’ were now becoming replaced with ‘Would he like to spend time with me?’
It had been about 3 weeks since then, and they’ve been spending a lot of the time together.
Ashe was introducing her to all sorts of books that he read, which were mostly about knights.
Marianne showed Ashe all the animals she loved to care for, and both spent quiet afternoons just playing with some of them.
Dorte took quite a liking to Ashe, though that was unsurprising considering how much she gushed to the horse about how kind Ashe was.
Though, something was off for the last few days. Whenever she was with Ashe she was…uncomfortable?
No, that wasn’t the word. Whenever he smiled at her, she would feel so at ease, and wanted to see them more.
Then, why did she feel her chest getting tight around him?
Why was her heart skipping beats when she heard him laugh?
Not knowing the answer, she went to the one person who might.
“So, what’s up, Marianne? You look like you have something on your mind.” Hilda said, sipping her tea.
“Well…” Marianne replied. She then explained the situation from the night they shared, to the present.
“D-Do you know what this is, Hilda?”
She took another sip, and put the cup down gently on her plate.
“Simple. You have a crush on Ashe! I don’t blame you either, he’s really cute looking, and super nice!”
“A crush…?”
Oh. It was love she was feeling.
…Oh goddess, it was love she was feeling?
“I-I see.”
“Oh no, Marianne! Don’t you DARE say what I think you’re about to!”
“But…!-”
“No buts! Listen, he personally went out to find you that night, right? Not to mention he invited you to dinner himself! If that doesn’t sound like he cares about you too, then I don’t know what does!”
“But…What should I say to him? I never felt this way before!”
“Knowing him, I think he’d appreciate it if you were honest. I know you’re probably nervous, so don’t worry about going over the top on your confession! Say something like ‘Hey, I like you because, your reason here, would you like to go out?’. Like I said, honesty is the key with him!”
“Honesty…Got it. Thank you so much for the help, Hilda!”
“Of course! And don’t worry about rejection, from the sound of it, I’m sure he wants to be with you as well!”
Marianne nodded and left her room. She went off to the dining hall to find Ashe.
Ashe
He didn’t want to do this.
He really didn’t want to do this.
However, he had no choice but to ask the master of this topic.
The things he did for love.
“Sylvain? Are you busy right now?”
“Ashe! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Um…I-It’s about a girl-”
“Oh? A girl? She giving you trouble? Don’t worry just leave it to me and-”
“No, nothing like that! It’s…well…I like her and I-”
“I see it now, Ashe! You need to ask me how to woo her, right?”
“…Essentially, yes. What should I say to her?”
“Well first of all, do you know what she wants?”
“Knowing her? Happiness-”
“What kind, Ashe…Wait a second. Does she want money? Status? You’re a nice guy so…She’s not trying to abuse you, right?”
“Goodness, no! Marianne would never…AH!”
“Ooooh, it’s Marianne? Jeez man, you should’ve said that from the start!”
Sylvain motioned for Ashe to follow him, and they were finally alone.
Surpisingly, he didn’t have his usual carefree smile, it was completely serious.
“For someone like Marianne? Be completely honest with her. Don’t beat around the bush, just be yourself. After all, that’s why she chose to stick around.”
“B-But what if I-”
“Get rejected? Don’t worry, I know you won’t. After seeing you guys together and how much you make each other smile? I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
Sylvain’s smile returned, and he patted Ashe on the back.
“Go make me proud, kiddo.”
Ashe smiled, and went to the stables to find Marianne.
…
Marianne arrived at the Dining Hall, but she didn’t see anyone. Sylvain was waving at her though, which made her slightly nervous.
“Y-Yes?”
“Looking for Ashe, right Marianne?
“I-I am…! How did you-”
“He went looking for you. I think he’s at the Goddess Tower.”
“Oh okay, thank you…!”
…
Ashe was on his way to the stables before Hilda stood in front of him.
“Oh, Hilda. May I help you with something?”
“Hey there, Ashe! Nah, I think Marianne was looking for you!”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah I think she went to the Goddess Tower.”
“I see, thanks, Hilda!”
…
They both arrived at the Goddess Tower and greeted each other.
“Hey, Marianne!”
“Hello, Ashe. You said you wanted to see me?
“…Oh, I thought you were looking for me?”
They were both confused, but decided to shelf the thought for now. They had more pressing matters at hand.
“A-Anyways, are you busy right now Marianne? I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Me too, a-actually…Should we go inside? I think it’s a bit more private in there.”
Ashe nodded, and followed Marianne in.
Meanwhile, Hilda and Sylvain were watching from a distance, both nodding.
“Our work here is done, mister Sylvain.”
“Indeed…I’m so proud of my Ashe.”
“I’m proud of Marianne too…It’s like watching our kids go off into the world…!”
Once they got to a nicely lit area alone, they both took a deep breath.
“Ashe…Would you like to go first?”
“That’s alright. Mine can wait. Go ahead Marianne.”
“Okay…W-Well…” She started to look down, a blush slowly starting to form.
“Ever since that night, Ashe I…I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”
Ashe’s heart stopped.
Is…Is she really-
“I don’t think I can get out of my mindset quite easily but…When I’m with you I…I feel like I want to try my best to because…you’ve stuck by me, even though I’m a curse.”
“Marianne…You could never be a curse because I…I feel the same way.”
“R-Really?!”
Ashe mustered all the courage and grabbed her hands, and…!
…That was it.
He held both of her hands tightly with his, and looked into her eyes.
“I…I like you, Marianne. Would you…l-like to go ou-”
Marianne smiled and hugged Ashe before he could finish.
“…I’d like that very much, Ashe.”
Ashe chuckled, his face heating up as they held each other.
“I-If it’s okay Ashe…can we stay this way for a little while?”
“…Of course, Marianne.”
They both felt each other being held tighter.
There wasn’t any talking for a quite a while. They just held each other in a loving embrace…
#ashe duran#marianne von edmund#marianne x ashe#hilda valentine goneril#sylvain jose gautier#blue lions#golden deer#fire emblem three houses imagines#fire emblem three houses headcanons#fe3h#fe16#writing#imagines
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
P L A C E S
_ gardens _
The gardens are in the more immediate property of the Estate. They're located near the West Wing of the building. The gardens are expansive, enclosed with hedges. The main garden with the flowers, fountain and little stream/fish pond can be found by traveling through the hedge maze.
_ fitness _
Many of the royals have great pressure on them to keep in tip top shape, and many like the option to. The Estate provides two main outlets for working out. They have a gymnasium complete with an indoors basketball court, gym mats and a volleyball net set up.
_ outdoors - hangouts _
For the outdoorsy royals, there's several spots for hanging out.
Top Left: The Lake. During the warmer seasons, many of the royals take to the lake for swimming, or hanging out. Parties have been known to take place by the lake. During the off seasons, figure skating is something many of the royals take part in.
Top Right: The Cabin. During the initial years of the Estate, during the Pilot Program, there was a great deal of uncertainty on whether the royals they were keeping would try to escape or not. Before developing a better security system, they used the cabin as a guards post. While it's been mostly abandoned, some of the royals use it as a hookup spot, or just to get away.
Bottom Left: The Woods. With the estate being as vast as it is, the property expands over several acres of land. A great deal of the land being wooded area. There have been man made trails flattened out for the royals to walk about or ride the horses from the stables along.
Bottom Right: The Field. A grassy field is also found on the expanse of the property. The keepers of the Estate keep the grass trimmed and maintained. Many of the royals bring their horses up there or picnic.
_ school - places _
Between the two dormitory buildings, there's the building for classes and community meals. As well as the physical fitness areas, swimming pool and hospital wing.
Left: The Hallways. The hallways are thin and generally not used for a main hangout spot. But they are busy and packed with students most days. The windows all have wide sills so some students sit in them and view the property.
Top Right: The general classroom setting is a modern, small lecture room looking area. These classrooms are the normal for both academic and royal classes. Though gym is held in the gymnasium, outside or the fitness center. And art is held in another classroom.
Bottom Right: The dining hall is a modern area with cushioned seating and a more restaurant looking sort of vibe. The tables often seat four or six. There's a buffet for salads during lunch and supper and breakfast foods in the morning. The main courses are served at the roundabout bar by cafeteria workers.
_ dorms _
Top Left: Bedrooms. All dorm bedrooms are identical in size. Though set up is varied. Many of the royals design their own room outlays to their particular styles. Though furniture such as a bed, desk and night table are provided, most royals return these for storage and bring in their own. Each bedroom has it's own ensuite bathroom that includes a tub/shower area, a standing shower, a two person sink and toilet area. The rooms host two people.
Middle Left: The hallways. They greatly resemble a hotel in structure and are carpeted and decorated with vintage desks and chair sets. The walls are adorned with pictures of past royals.
Bottom Left: Another outlay for the bedroom space provided. Refer to Top Left.
Top Right: Theater Room. In each dorm, there's a theater room. It's linked to a program that contains several movies and tv shows, as well as music programs. It has a surround sound system. Most dorms host a movie night every now and then.
Middle Right: The dorm kitchens have a very modern look. They have all the means for royals to take care of their cooking needs. While most royals eat meals in the main dining hall, some prefer cooking for themselves or like snacking at night. Most times, guards stop by every now to ensure the royals aren't getting up to no good.
Bottom Right: Entertainment room. Each dorm also holds an entertainment room that are frequented by the royals. They have pool tables, a sitting area with a flat screen tv and the same program as the theater.
_ gameroom _
In the main part of the building, there’s a game room for the royals to entertain themselves. This part of the building is new, and was built for the initiate program’s arrival. An endowment from one of the Pilot Program Royals parents was what paid for it being built. The game room is much like an arcade, and has several vintage games, as well as ping pong, pool, air hockey and ski ball.
_ library _
Within the main part of the Estate is the library. It has a more vintage look, with three floors. The three floors is home to fresh on the market computers, books, and desks. The spiral staircase is the way to the second and third floor of the library.
_ hospital - wing _
Because so many royals tend to be private, especially because half the treatments within the place are stomach pumps, overdose treatments, and prenatal care the Estate started off with a hospital wing to treat as many possible things they could. Their equipped for small surgical procedures and often have private transportation to the private hospital in town for any other procedures not provided at the Estate.
_ general - hangouts _
Top Left: Cafe. The cafe is a small coffee shop that most royals take to for hanging out. They serve several hot and cold beverages, as well as baked goods. Many of the royals go there for their morning coffee and snacks. They often hang out there between classes and after meals. The cafe closes at 12AM and reopens at 8AM.
Bottom Left: Stables. One of the things Royal Pains prides itself on is it's equestrian ventures for royals. Since many royals are taught to ride at an early age, the estate provided an opportunity to bring their horses.
Top Right: Courtyard. In the back of Estate is the Courtyard. It's a simple fountain area with a small hedge and a few benches for sitting down. Most royals don't hangout there so the ones who do are often seeking out peace and quiet.
Bottom Right: Swimming Pool. As another outlet for fitness and general recreation, the Estate's provided a swimming area. The swimming area also has a whirlpool tub. Though there's a locking system and there's a pass required, students have been known to break in.
_ town - hangouts _
Along with Estate hangouts, there's several spots in town. While it's much harder to obtain passes to actually make it out into town, some royals have been known to sneak off the property and go out. Which is when they're most known to hit these party spots.
Top Left: Salem's Gate. Salem's Gate is a frequently populated bar in town. It's bigger, with several tables and a big bar space for people to sit at. They have waitresses to serve drinks to those sitting and often have some form of live music playing.
Bottom Left: Nightsounds. The Nightsounds club is frequently by the younger crowd. If someone's looking for live DJ's, loud music and a spot to dance, Nightsounds is the place to go. There's a few sitting spots, but most people don't go to hang out.
Top Right: Arden's Casino. Arden's is an underground casino. It's not popularly known, but the royals of the estate with trust funds to gamble away are the biggest customers. The Casino runs all night on the weekends.
Bottom Right: Smoke and Mist Pub & Grill. The Pub and Grill is a small hangout known for their homemade selection of fast food. They occasionally hold a karaoke night. It's not a popular spot for royals, but some go for the food.
Shopping Center: The shopping center is a popular spot for royals to hangout at. When most get their passes to go out, this is their go to spot. It holds several high end and common stores, as well as cafe's, dessert places, little boutiques, jewelry and tea shops. They also have a food court for those who decide they want to stop and have a meal while they're shopping.
Top: Arbello’s. One of the more upscale restaurants in town. While the town isn’t thriving with rich families, enough teenagers saving up for dates and the presence of the royals has caused high enough demand for the place to stay open. It has a large floor setting with a dim, romantic lighting.
Middle: The Beach Restaurant. This particular restaurant is a semi-upscale place sitting on the beach front property. With a lot of natural lighting, a wide open floor plan, a view and a bar, this is a popular spot amongst the townsfolk and royals alike. During the spring and summer seasons it’s not so uncommon that it’s booked out for wedding receptions and other events.
Bottom: R&W Diner and Drive-Thru. A popular spot for townspeople. The diner is known for it’s homemade fast food. Along with friendly service, old timey feel and family vibe. Not many royals frequent the area, but the occasional few do.
Top: The Beach. A popular hangout for the people of the town during the warmer seasons. The beach also has a restaurant known as the Oasis. It opens it doors in the Springs and closes them at the end of September. But the beach is accessible all year round.
Bottom: The Swimming Hole. The swimming hole is a popular spot among the younger crowd and families that grew up in the town. But royals on passes during the summer tend to take the opportunity to go swimming and host parties at the swimming hole.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU of The Other Dimitri AU Part 1 of 2
Me again! It’s funny, I know what I wanna do with the Ivan oneshot but planning it and then getting to writing it is being far more difficult than expected. Maybe because I’m dealing with a character who is an OC but also somewhat canon in the sense of taking canon Dimitri’s role? Anyways, I’ll get that fic out eventually, I’m actually having fun with the challenge of getting it to work. So I decided, in the meanwhile, to make some notes about the previous post I submitted regarding Ivan (the unit overview) and doing something fun as a bonus. Writing down Ivan as a unit if he existed in the canon game! An AU of an AU. Ah well, it’s fun and it helps me figure out his character. *NOTE*: As I was writing this thing, I realized this was getting ridiculously long for a submission, even from me. So this is gonna be part 1 of 2. I’ll get part 2 to you in a few days with the rest of the info, mostly related to timeskip stuff, battle quotes, paralogues, and RECRUITMENT (*gasp*). Part 2 is gonna have PLENTY of delicious angst! And I hope this part has gotten you interested in what happened to Ivan during the timeskip, especially with the few little hints I’ve dropped here and there. **WARNING**: There will be slight spoilers about the Blue Lions route. I will avoid as many major spoilers as possible or otherwise be vague where I can, but there is some stuff. Just wanted to give a head up! Anyways, I hope you too enjoy this! And, once again, sorry for submitting these absurdly long posts to your inbox.
******************************
Notes
*The following notes are some fun facts regarding stuff I put down in the Unit Overview post*
Childhood Picture: It’s a portrait of Ivan, Dimitri, Felix, Ingrid, Sylvain, and Glenn. It shows them as they were about five years before the Tragedy of Duscur. In the first few months of the charade, when Ivan saw this picture he freaked out and tore the part that had him in it off, burning it in the fireplace. He carries the picture with him constantly. By the point in the timeskip where he starts to go as “Ivan” again, he regrets tearing the picture, especially since it’s the only picture he had that had all of them together. But perhaps the other members of their friendship group have other pictures?
Collection of Fairytales: Ivan loves fiction books, and fairytales are no exception. When the charade begins, Ivan is so focused on training his body and mind to become more and more like Dimitri that he doesn’t check out his books anymore. It isn’t until a couple years later that he sees this book. He smiles and starts to open it, only to see his real name on the inside cover. Ivan has a habit of writing his name on the inside cover of all his books. What followed was Ivan grabbing a quill and large bottle of ink and proceeding to furiously cross out his name from every single one of his books.
Jeweled Dagger: Considering it has the letter D on the hilt, you would think it was Dimitri’s dagger. And…technically you’re right. But Dimitri never got to see the dagger. Ivan wanted to give Dimitri a surprise present for their 14th birthday. So he secretly commissioned the dagger from a blacksmith, asking that it be delivered on Dimitri and Ivan’s birthday. The Tragedy of Duscur happened a short time later and Ivan forgot all about the dagger, between his trauma and having to train for the charade. That is, until a package arrived on his 14th birthday, addressed to “him”.
I actually forgot to put down Ivan’s favorite type of tea but then I remembered Dimitri’s favorite tea is chamomile. So I looked it up and chamomile tea is known to help with stress and anxiety, as well as act as a decent sleep aid. Perfectly fitting for Dimitri and just as fitting for Ivan. So yeah, Ivan’s favorite type of tea is chamomile!
Ivan very much did learn the edible weeds thing from Dimitri! The story is that when they were around eight and hanging out outside, Dimitri chomped on a dandelion with zero warning. When Ivan stared at him in horror, Dimitri proceeded to happily explain all about edible weeds. Ivan decided to just accept it and move on (screaming internally the whole time) …Though he did keep it in mind and has always been kind of curious…
Why is Ivan terrified of horses? When he was four, a particularly bad-tempered horse bit Ivan’s cloak and wouldn’t let go, tugging it and tossing poor tiny Ivan with every shake. Ivan may no longer remember the incident, but he’s been terrified of horses and Pegasi ever since.
Ivan’s Music: He has a habit of humming, especially when doing monotonous tasks or when he’s in an especially good mood. He practiced hard to stop doing it once he had to become Dimitri, but once he goes by Ivan again, he’s slowly bringing the habit back. He has a lovely singing voice, though he’s very out of practice since he hasn’t sung since he was 13. But it’s a strong voice and he has impressive range. A little practice and he’ll probably be as good as he was when he was younger. His instruments of choice are the piano and violin, once again having not touched either since he was 13. After he officially becomes king (particularly after the ceremony that names him king which was held three years after the war) he starts taking lessons again, though doesn’t have much time for it since he’s busy with so many other things. He only started composing his own music when he was 11. He starts making little compositions again during rare free time in the war. He still makes compositions after he becomes king but, once again, he’s so busy he really doesn’t have time to nurture his talent.
Sometimes he’s bitter towards Dimitri for how disinterested the guy was in music, which made Ivan give up so much to perfect the act. But Ivan also remembers Dimitri patiently and happily listening to him play and sing, always saying Ivan was a “god of music”. A silly exaggeration as far as Ivan was concerned, but he doesn’t think he would’ve kept up with music if it wasn’t for Dimitri’s wholehearted encouragement.
Ivan and Ingrid share so many favorite foods. This is largely because when Ingrid was the one who comforted Ivan, she would often share some food with him when she did so. So Ivan associates those foods with happy memories. Ivan’s interest in food with interesting textures is a thing that started a little before arriving at the academy. The reason of which I won’t say (is it a spoiler? I don’t know, better safe than sorry. It has to do with something mentioned at some point in Dimitri and Flayn’s supports if you’re curious, I don’t remember if it’s said elsewhere).
Ivan and Felix were the baby brothers of the friendship group. Even Ingrid treated him as a baby brother like she did with Felix, even though Ivan was older than her. Ivan and Felix had a strong bond due to being meek crybabies. Ivan also had a habit of often hiding behind Sylvain when something spooked him. Of course, Felix often had the same idea, leading to the pair sometimes competing to cower behind Sylvain, while Sylvain laughed at them the whole time, while also doting on them.
So yeah, Ivan did forget his real name over the five-year timeskip. Between all the trauma he faced and the visions of the dead, he could only recognize himself as “Dimitri”, even though he saw hallucinations of the real Dimitri often. He doesn’t remember his own name until Byleth says it to him after Byleth learns that “Dimitri” was really Ivan this whole time.
I saw an anon noticed my stat joke about Ivan’s high Luck compared to Dimitri. One of my favorite things is when Fire Emblem games do something with a character’s stats or classing options (something other than personal skills) that reflect on some story element. Like having a character who is stated in story to be super lucky have naturally high Luck. Or that thing in Awakening with Kellam’s whole shtick of being practically invisible, so he can be reclassed into the Thief class. So yeah I purposefully lowered several of his stats and growths and just cranked up that Luck to match his backstory. Also, I’m pleasantly surprised an anon noticed that Ivan having higher Mag and E+ in Faith implies he was meant to be a healer. Because yes, that’s true! The idea is that if Dimitri hadn’t died, Ivan was gonna be on the path to be a healer/mage character. But because he had to become Dimitri, that greatly stunted his growth and shifted the rest of it to match more with Dimitri’s stats and growth.
Those are the big notes I thought of. Now, let’s get into the AU of this AU, involving what if Ivan was a character alongside Dimitri! Just a thing I made for fun, and like I said before it helps get those creative juices flowing!
AU of The Other Dimitri AU – Ivan Alexis Blaiddyd Unit Overview
Backstory
An overview of the backstory, at least where it differs from how Ivan is in the main AU. Ivan is still Dimitri’s younger identical twin brother, still has the minor Crest of Blaiddyd too. One difference is that while in the main AU Ivan is the one who interacted with the girl with the dagger, in this AU it’s Dimitri who did so, just like canon. The idea being that both of them met her and Ivan tried his best, but she and Dimitri hit it off while Ivan couldn’t get far, so he stopped coming along to visit her. He’s bitter about the idea of once again being passed up for his brother but he’s also jealous of having his brother stolen away from him for that time Dimitri and the girl knew each other. The other big difference is that Ivan didn’t go with his family on the day of the Tragedy of Duscur. Ivan was a sickly child growing up, and he hadn’t been feeling well during the week of the trip. Therefore, Lambert had him stay behind out of concern his condition would get worse during the long trip. Ivan was heartbroken at being left behind (and while he understood why, there was still a twinge of terror deep in his heart over not being good enough, being a burden). The Tragedy of Duscur goes down, Dimitri comes back as the only survivor. Things on Dimitri’s end go down basically the same as canon: meeting with Dedue, his trauma, the falling out with Felix, etc. On Ivan’s end, things end up changing quite a bit. Since Dimitri’s alive, there’s no act, so Ivan’s skills grow as they were intended, being more magic and healing based. Although he ends up picking up the lance too, because sparring was sometimes the only way to get his brother out of his room during those first few months following the tragedy. Ivan finds himself puzzled by his own emotions, particularly how he isn’t devastated to the same extent Dimitri is. Of course he’s in pain and mourning the loss of his father, stepmother, and Glenn. And he’s horrified by the deaths of all the knights, by the deaths of the people of Duscur (he remembers the furious tears streaming down Dimitri’s face as he told him the people of Duscur were innocent). But unlike Dimitri, who’s half dead and only making it to the next day thanks to Ivan, Dedue, and Rodrigue, Ivan still moves about. Eats just fine (Dimitri acts weird towards food now), doesn’t cry the night away (Dimitri sometimes slips into his room or Dedue’s and just sobs as he clings on desperately). Probably the one thing Ivan has in common with Dimitri in grief is the onslaught of nightmares (Dimitri never says what his are about, but Ivan’s are visions of his loved ones and so many faceless others covered in blood and gore, cursing him for his dumb luck that kept him away from the horrors of that day). And maybe that is what’s wrong, that he wasn’t there and didn’t see any of it. But…he doesn’t know. He’s so confused. And he hears the whispers from nosy nobles who know nothing, thinking he doesn’t care about the deaths. Ah well, he supposes he’s used to being the subject of mockery and rumors, as the worthless second-born, never as good as his brother. Never good enough for anyone…His relationship with Sylvain and Ingrid remains close over the years. However, he too ends up coming into conflict with Felix, although nowhere near what happened between Felix and Dimitri. Felix’s issue with Ivan, much like with Dimitri, stems from the rebellion when they’re 15. Except Ivan wasn’t part of the assault against the rebels (“Let me go too, Brother!” he had yelled while Dimitri refused and even ordered guards to make sure he didn’t come. As if years separated the pair instead of mere minutes). When Felix had told him what Dimitri had done, yes, Ivan had been thrown off by it, even horrified of the image of the warm and loving brother he knew being such a beast (“But the rebels were a threat to innocent people. Dimitri did what he had to, in order to protect others.” “You wouldn’t say that if you saw him, Ivan!”) Naïve and black and white in his view of “right”, almost disturbingly so, that’s what Felix had spat at him before storming off. But perhaps because Ivan wasn’t part of the battle, perhaps because Ivan’s fear of fighting and the way he shakes at the idea of it is so genuine, Felix doesn’t sever their friendship like he does with Dimitri. But Ivan can see they’re no longer “two peas in a pod”, that with Felix’s changing feelings towards the concept of “chivalry”, things can’t be as they once were. And maybe Dimitri is somewhat bitter about Ivan being able to maintain those bonds that he himself can’t find a way to. Another big shift shows up that adds more fuel to the fire of Ivan’s jealousy and bitterness towards Dimitri. The way his uncle, the court advisors, and noble after noble feel the need to tell him to help his brother, to look out for him and support him. The comments alone aren’t an issue, it’s what Ivan was doing anyways, because his brother is his idol and best friend. He loves him, truly. But the way they keep talking gives off warning signs. Before the tragedy he was shoved to the side and considered an afterthought, not worth a second glance and having nothing of value compared to the golden heir and crown prince. But now, with the way they’re telling him to support his brother and stay with him, it becomes more and more clear that they’re telling him to live only for his brother. Live for him, die for him. Ivan’s life is no longer his own, his dreams and wishes are no longer his own. He exists only for Dimitri now. He’s not good enough to actually help or provide any meaningful assistance, such as in battles or in politics, he’s only the spare after all, a weak and timid crybaby. But he still must do everything and anything for Dimitri (“You’re brothers, of course you would do anything for him, right? Anything at all?” “…Yes…” As if he can say no to them. As if he can convince himself he’d ever say no). Because it would be a tragedy to lose the crown prince, but not nearly as much if it was the second son. It’s suffocating. This varies from the main AU, where Ivan is still very jealous and bitter, but Dimitri’s death makes Ivan glorify him. His love towards his brother is very real there, but he goes overboard, which is a major factor behind his issues figuring out who he really is and how he truly feels once he goes by Ivan again in the main AU.
Character Description
The second prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Dimitri’s twin. He is a timid and gentle young man who claims he’s not made for battle. And yet there may be something far more complicated to his nature, especially his feelings towards his brother.
Preferences
Likes: Writing and performing music, live musical performances, fiction books, board games, sparring, well-deserved appreciation, spending time with Dimitri
Dislikes: Himself, battles, darkness, horses and Pegasi, scorching heat, people who talk behind others’ backs
Stats and Growths
Base Stats - HP: 24 Strength: 7 Magic: 10 Dexterity: 6 Speed: 7 Luck: 8 Defense: 5 Resistance: 5 Charm: 8
Max Stats - HP: 65 Strength: 56 Magic: 71 Dexterity: 65 Speed: 69 Luck: 67 Defense: 42 Resistance: 44 Charm: 73
Stat Growths - HP: 35% Strength: 40% Magic: 50% Dexterity: 45% Speed: 45% Luck: 50% Defense: 30% Resistance: 30% Charm: 45%
Skills and Proficiencies
Skill Levels – Sword: E Lance: E+ Axe: E Bow: E Brawl: E Reason: D Faith: D Authority: E Heavy Armor: E Riding: E Flying: E
Strengths: Reason, Faith
Weaknesses: Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor, Riding
Budding Talent: Lance
Faith Magic Learned: Heal, Recover, Physic, Nosferatu, Aura
Reason Magic Learned: Blizzard, Thoron, Sagittae, Meteor
Starting Skills/Inventory
Starting Class: Noble
Personal Skill – Second-born’s Struggle: If unit’s HP drops below 50%, grants unit +20 to Hit Rate, +10 to Critical Rate, and +5 to Damage dealt.
Crest – Minor Crest of Blaiddyd: The Faerghus royal family’s Crest, inherited from Blaiddyd of the 10 Elites. Occasionally doubles Attack and weapon uses for combat arts.
Other Skills: Lance Prowess Level 1, Reason Prowess Level 1, Faith Prowess Level 1
Magic: Blizzard, Heal
Combat Arts: None
Starting Equipment: Training Lance, Vulnerary
Academy Appearance
Ivan and Dimitri are identical twins, so physically there’s not much difference between him and Dimitri. The only real difference would be that Ivan’s hair is subtly softer looking and messier, a few more bangs, a couple strands out of place, that sort of thing. Their differences come more from non-physical things, like how Ivan’s voice is softer, or how he holds himself differently, always fiddling with his clothes or having a hard time keeping eye contact, shy and introverted. As far as clothes go, Ivan wears the standard male Academy uniform, the only personal touches he wears being white gloves and a blue cape that wraps across the front of the shoulders and clasps on his left shoulder with a golden fastener that looks like the lion representing the Blue Lions (and Faerghus as a whole).
Relationship with Blue Lions at Academy
Dimitri: Dimitri is rather doting and protective of his brother, which Ivan is sometimes annoyed by since he’s only a few minutes younger than Dimitri. They have a close relationship, although there are several obvious signs that they are at odds with each other, especially considering Ivan’s darker feelings of jealousy and bitterness competing with his genuine love for his brother.
Dedue: While Dedue’s devotion is for Dimitri, he and Ivan have a comfortable relationship. Ivan sometimes sits in the garden with him, Dedue taking care of the plants while Ivan reads or composes.
Felix: Felix finds Ivan’s rather cold, black and white view towards justice aggravating but doesn’t always push him away like he does with Dimitri. Ivan is the one who puts more effort into trying to spend time with him though.
Sylvain: Sylvain enjoys teasing Ivan considering how timid he is and how he still has a habit of hiding behind Sylvain when spooked. But they have a fun and easygoing relationship. And they like talking about music.
Ingrid: They have many favorite foods in common thanks to how Ingrid comforted him all the time when they were young. Ivan gets frustrated with how Ingrid sometimes still treats him like a child who needs to be protected.
Mercedes: Ivan has a friendly rivalry with her, since she’s a fellow healer and mage. He often goes to her for advice and lessons to improve his own techniques. He closest to her after his brother and friends. Dimitri likes to joke that Mercedes is trying to steal his brother for herself. Ivan sometimes notices a brief odd look on Mercedes’ face when Dimitri says that though.
Annette: Since they both love music and have skills with magic, they get along well. But Annette is often embarrassed singing or writing songs in front of Ivan since she finds him far more skilled, while Ivan enjoys her work and wants to work with her if she’d let him.
Ashe: Bookworm babies! They have a little book club (made of the two of them) where they love exchanging notes on books they read. Ashe also enjoys getting to know Ivan since he’s been curious about Ivan ever since hearing all the rumors and jokes about “the pathetic second prince” growing up.
First Meeting with Ivan
“A-are you the one who helped Dimitri? I can’t thank you enough! O-oh, is my appearance throwing you off? I’m Dimitri’s twin, Ivan Alexis Blaiddyd. Although, other than my face, I’m not much like him…”
First Kill
“Stop shaking! I had to do it! …Yes, I had to. It’s what they deserve for all they’ve done.”
Cooking (Pre-Timeskip)
“I apologize in advance, Professor. Cooking was never my strong suit.”
“This isn’t going as badly as I’d feared…Wait, did I just curse us? Oh no.”
Cooking (Post-Timeskip)
“I’m still terrible at cooking, Professor. I’m sorry about that…”
“Okay, this isn’t too bad. Oh, I better stop speaking before I curse us.”
Choir Practice
(Pre-Timeskip) “I’ve loved music since I was a child. But I…I still don’t have the courage to perform in front of a lot of people…This should be good practice for that, right?”
(Post-Timeskip) “No matter how harsh this war gets, no matter how much it tries to break me, I won’t abandon my music. It’s something that’s mine. No one will steal it from me.”
Counselor Note
“I’ve been hearing people say some cruel things about me when they think I’m not around. I’m used to such comments, but it still affects me. And I don’t have the courage to say anything. What should I do?”
(Bad Answer): You should grow a spine and confront them!
(Bad Answer): If you point them out, I can say something to them on your behalf.
(Good Answer): Talk to someone you trust. They can give you the support you need to make a decision.
Lost Item
Items
Collection of Fairytales (A thick book of many tales of fantasy and adventure. Something is written on the inside of the front cover, but the writing is smudged. Probably belongs to someone who loves stories.)
Book of Scores (A book filled with pages upon pages of musical compositions. Each sheet is covered in detailed notes. Probably belongs to someone who loves music.)
Childhood Picture (A portrait, worn with age, of a group of smiling children. Some of the children look familiar. Probably belongs to someone with several friends.)
(If item belongs to him): “Thank you! I…I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost this.”
(If item doesn’t belong to him): “I’m sorry, Professor, you have the wrong person…”
Gift
Liked Gifts: Forget-me-nots, Book of Sheet Music, Board Game, Ceremonial Sword, Legends of Chivalry
Disliked Gifts: Training Weight, Riding Boots, Hunting Dagger
(Received gift he likes): “For me? Truly? I don’t know what to say…”
(Received gift that’s neutral): “I’m glad that you’re thinking of me.”
(Received gift he dislikes): “Umm…Thank you…? Please don’t give me that look, Professor.”
Tea Party (Pre-Timeskip)
Greeting: “Thank you for the invitation.”
Liked Topics: Tell me about yourself, You seem well, Evaluating allies, The ideal Professor, Working together, Thanks for everything…, Favorite sweets, Shareable snacks, The library’s collection, Our first meeting…, Children at the market, Fodlan’s future, Books you’ve read recently, A word of advice, Someone you look up to…, A place you’d like to visit…, Overcoming weaknesses, The view from the bridge, Cats…, I’m counting on you, Past laughs, The Opera…
Disliked Topics: Reliable allies, Being the perfect knight, You seem different…, Dining partners…, Hopes for your future, Things you find romantic, Food for life, Capable comrades, The existence of Crests, Classes you might enjoy, School uniforms, You’re doing great work, Close calls, Mighty weapons, Sturdy weapons, School days, Cooking mishaps, Equipment upkeep, Monastery rules, The last battle…, A new Gambit…, Working hours for guards
Comments
“Umm, I’m sorry if I’m a boring conversationalist. I was never a social person growing up.”
“I thought you accidentally invited me instead of my brother. It wouldn’t be the first time-Oh! I-I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Thank you for all the support you’ve given me. It means more to me than you realize.”
“I…I’ve been composing some songs recently. But no matter how hard I try, I’m not satisfied with them. But I suppose if it was easy then everyone would become musicians.”
“I’ve always hated battles, but I knew I would have to face them eventually. So I chose to study healing. I wanted, at the very least, to make sure I could keep the people I hold dear safe.”
Extended Time Comments
“This is for me? You’re too kind.”
“Umm, are you trying to spot differences between my face and Dimitri’s? There really isn’t much. Trust me, I’ve looked.”
“My hands shake after battles. I don’t know if they’ll ever stop…”
“Sorry, if I’m being too quiet for you, Professor. I’m not really used to all this.”
End of Tea Party: “Thank you, I had a great time! …Could we do this again?”
Tea Party (Post-Timeskip)
Greeting: “I’m sorry for the wait.”
Comments
“I think I’ve gotten a little better at conversation over the past five years. At least, I hope I have…”
“I appreciate you, Professor. I apologize if that sounds too blunt, but I wanted you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done.”
“I still compose sometimes, during the few lulls between battles. Some soldiers once asked me to compose some songs for battles, but I refused. I can never do that…”
“People call me childish for still cherishing my books of adventures and wonder. But why is it wrong to hold them dear? Is it really a sin to want to escape from all of this, for just a moment?”
“I often dream of when I was younger. Before this war, before the Tragedy of Duscur. I…I wish life could be so simple again. I’m sorry, please ignore me…”
Extended Time Comments
“A gift? You’re truly a kind one, aren’t you?”
“My hands still shake after all these years. Is that a sign of weakness? Or a blessing that I’m not desensitized to killing…”
“My scar? Please, don’t worry. It aches when it’s particularly cold, but otherwise it doesn’t hurt me anymore.”
“Thank you, Professor, for all the faith you’ve shown in me. I’ll work hard so that I won’t let you down.”
End of Tea Party: “Thank you for inviting me. Peaceful moments like this are a blessing amidst all this chaos.”
Dining Hall (Pre-Timeskip)
Favorite Food: Shares many favorites with Ingrid, so if a food is her favorite it will most likely be his as well. Also loves sweets.
“This smells delicious! I can’t wait!”
“Oh, m-my favorite. Professor, thank you so much!”
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Ivan: “What do you think, Dimitri? This dish makes you feel good, doesn’t it?”
Dimitri: “Yes, I agree. It feels comforting, odd as that may sound.”
Ivan: “You better have seconds, then!”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “What do you think of the food, Ivan?”
Ivan: “It’s good.”
Dimitri: “Oh, that’s good…I’m glad…”
With Felix
Felix: “Why do I have to eat with you?”
Ivan: “Felix, don’t act like such a stranger! We always did so much together as children. Eating, playing, crying-”
Felix: “You better stop while you’re ahead.”
With Ingrid
Ivan: “Look, Ingrid, it’s another one of our favorites!”
Ingrid: “I know! I don’t think I ever realized how many favorite dishes we shared.”
Ivan: “And whose fault is that?”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Good food, good atmosphere. Now if only it was a lovely lady by my side.”
Ivan: “Am…Am I bad company, Sylvain?”
Sylvain: “What? Oh, no, no! I was just kidding, Ivan, I swear!”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “Oh, Ivan, did the advice I give you before work out?”
Ivan: “Yes, thank you, Mercedes! I hope my healing will be more effective now. And I apologize for the trouble.”
Mercedes: “No trouble at all! I’m happy to see you grow! We’ll be quite the healing duo, won’t we?”
Dining Hall (Post-Timeskip)
“It smells so good. I’m more than ready for this.”
“…Did you pick my favorite on purpose, Professor? If so, thank you.”
With Dimitri
Ivan: “…I…I’ve missed eating with you, Brother.”
Dimitri: “…I’ve missed it too. Let’s try to eat together more, alright?”
Ivan: “Yes! We have several years to make up for, after all!”
With Felix
Felix: “Do you really have to sit with me so much during meals?”
Ivan: “If you hate it so much, why don’t you find another spot?”
Felix: “Hmph. Cheeky fool…”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “I’m glad we can share meals together again, Ivan. I’ve missed it more than you realize!”
Ivan: “I’ve missed it too. Who else is going to be meal buddies with me?”
Ingrid: “Umm, please tell that’s not what you’re going to call us…”
With Sylvain
Ivan: “Sylvain? You’ve been staring for a while. You’re going to make me blush if you keep this up.”
Sylvain: “Will I? Ooh, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you go red! …Seriously though, don’t mind me. It’s just…been a while, Ivan.”
Ivan: “…I’ve missed eating with you too, Sylvain.”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “It’s so lively eating with everyone else again, isn’t it, Ivan?”
Ivan: “I agree. Lots of noise and laughing. And I’ve missed discussing healing techniques with you, Mercedes.”
Mercedes: “Oh, I’ve missed that too! Let’s exchange notes after this, alright?”
Instruction (Pre-Timeskip)
Bad: “Ahh, I…I’m sorry…”
Good: “That wasn’t so bad.”
Great: “I understand…Let me review it once more.”
Perfect: “It’s all coming to me!”
(Praise): “Y-You’re too kind to me.”
(Console): “Th-thank you for your concern.”
(Scold): “…I’m sorry…”
Instruction (Post-Timeskip)
Bad: “I’m sorry about that…”
Good: “Alright, I’m doing better.”
Great: “I starting to understand. Let me review it.”
Perfect: “I get it now!”
(Praise): “Oh, umm, th-thank you.”
(Console): “Heh, come now, I’m no longer a child.”
(Scold): “…Sorry.”
Certification Exam
Pass: “Will I be of more use to everyone now?”
Fail (Pre-Timeskip): “Even after all that studying? I, ah…I’m sorry…”
Fail (Post-Timeskip): “Some things never change, I suppose…”
Class Mastery
“I’ll put this strength to good use. I promise.”
Group Tasks (Pre-Timeskip)
“I-I’ll do my best!”
(Perfect) “We did great, Professor! Ah, I mean, I didn’t mean to sound so shocked about that!”
(Good) “We finished the task. Though I fear I may have dragged us down…”
Weeding
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Ivan: “Umm, Brother? You…You were joking when you once told me about those edible weeds, right?”
Dimitri: “What? No, of course not! Here, come with me, I’ll point them out to you!
Ivan: “Dimitri…”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “There sure are a lot of weeds, aren’t there?”
Ivan: “Uh-huh.”
Dimitri: “…Ivan…”
With Felix
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Felix: “How are you enjoying this?”
Ivan: “I’m not. I’m distracting myself.”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “Ivan, I don’t mean to push, but could you hum for us? This task is dreadfully boring.”
Ivan: “You read my mind, Ingrid! One song, coming up.”
Ingrid: “Thank you!”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Ugh, weeding. I can think of at least a dozen things I’d rather do than weeding.”
Ivan: “Keep at it, Sylvain. So long as you concentrate, we’ll be done soon enough.”
Sylvain: “I know, I know…”
With Mercedes
Ivan: “Say, Mercedes. I have a question about the weeds around here.”
Mercedes: “Do you? Well, I’ll do my best to answer, if I can! What is it?”
Ivan: “Are they…? Actually, never mind. I think I would prefer to live in blissful ignorance.”
Stable Duty
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “Are you okay, Ivan? You can stay over there if you want, I can take care of this.”
Ivan: “No, I appreciate the thought. But…I must be brave. I must!”
Dimitri: “So long as you don’t push yourself.”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “Ivan. Are you-?”
Ivan: “I’m fine, Dimitri.”
Dimitri: “The way you’re shaking says otherwise.”
With Felix
Felix: “You’re still afraid of horses? After all this time?”
Ivan: “I-I’m working on getting over it, I swear!”
Felix: “You’ve been saying that for years…”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “When we were younger, whenever I asked if you wanted to help me take care of my horse, you’d freeze in place. What made you so scared of them in the first place?”
Ivan: “Honestly, it’s been so long, I can’t remember anymore.”
Ingrid: “Hmm, how sad…Horses aren’t as bad as you think, you know.”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Alright, Ivan, my back is ready and here for you to hide behind!”
Ivan: “Sylvain…”
Sylvain: “Haha, sorry! But seriously, if you need a break, I’m right here, okay?”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “Are you alright? You’ve been trembling for a while now.”
Ivan: “It’s pathetic…No matter how hard I try, I can never feel at ease around horses.”
Mercedes: “Oh my, I see. But please, don’t call yourself pathetic! We all have our fears.”
Sky Watch
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Ivan: “Brother…”
Dimitri: “Deep breaths, Ivan. The Pegasi at the monastery are tame and gentle, they won’t hurt you.”
Ivan: “My head knows that, but my heart doesn’t agree.”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “Ivan?”
Ivan: “I don’t want to talk right now.”
Dimitri: “I-I see.”
With Felix
Felix: “How long do you plan on staring at the ground? You have to keep your eyes ahead if you want to keep watch.”
Ivan: “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Felix, but can we not speak right now?”
Felix: “You’re ridiculous…”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “You’ve been looking pale since we set off. Are you really that bad with Pegasi too?”
Ivan: “I know it’s pathetic, you don’t have to say anything.”
Ingrid: “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that.”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Hmm, I guess I can see why Pegasi freak you out as much as horses do. I mean, Pegasi are basically horses with wings.”
Ivan: “Sylvain, please…”
Sylvain: “Hey, no need to glare like that! I’m shutting up now.”
With Mercedes
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Mercedes: “Ivan, are you okay? Your humming sounds rather distressed.”
Ivan: “I’m okay! I swear, I’m okay!”
Perfect Result
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “We did well! Great work today, Ivan.”
Ivan: “Please, the credit should be all yours.”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “We did a great job together, didn’t we?”
Ivan: “…We did well, I suppose.”
With Felix
Felix: “Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad.”
Ivan: “You worked especially hard, Felix!”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “The job’s done, Professor! You did a good job, Ivan.”
Ivan: “Not as good a job as you did, Ingrid.”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “A perfect job! C’mon, Ivan, where’s my praise?
Ivan: “Yes, yes, you did a good job, my friend.”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “It was a lot of hard work, but we’re done now!”
Ivan: “Thanks for all your help, Mercedes!”
Good Result
With Dimitri (Before the fight in their support)
Dimitri: “My, that was hard work. Are you alright, Ivan?”
Ivan: “I’m fine. Sorry if I was going too slow.”
With Dimitri (After the fight in their support)
Ivan: “The job’s done, Professor.”
Dimitri: “Yes, we…we worked hard.”
With Felix
Ivan: “That was a lot of work. I’m sorry if I dragged us down, Felix.”
Felix: “Always looking to blame yourself for something, aren’t you?”
With Ingrid
Ivan: “Thank you for all your help, Ingrid.”
Ingrid: “My thanks to you as well, Ivan!”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Finally! I thought we’d never be done!”
Ivan: “I hope it wasn’t my fault we took so long…”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “I’m exhausted, but we did well, didn’t we, Ivan?”
Ivan: “I agree. Thank you, Mercedes.”
Group Tasks (Post-Timeskip)
“My, this brings back memories, doesn’t it?”
(Perfect) “I hope we met your expectations, Professor!”
(Good) “I hope we didn’t cause extra work for someone else.”
Clearing Rubble
With Dimitri
Dimitri: “There’s so much rubble around here. Forgive me for letting all of you deal with it by yourselves for so long.”
Ivan: “It’s alright, Brother…Just make sure to pull your weight from now on, alright?”
Dimitri: “I promise, I will.”
With Felix
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Felix: “…Never thought I’d actually miss that.”
Ivan: “Huh? What did you say, Felix?”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “So much rubble! It truly is a disaster.”
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Ingrid: “…Heh, well, at least one of us seems to be having fun.”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Good grief, every time we clear this area it’s like someone dumps another load of rubble just to spite us!”
Ivan: “The monastery did take a lot of damage over these past five years. Let’s work hard, okay?”
Sylvain: “I know…”
With Mercedes
Ivan: “Are you doing alright, Mercedes? If you need to take a break, feel free.”
Mercedes: “No, don’t mind me! It’s hard work but I’ve been training a lot these past five years!”
Ivan: “Haha, I see!”
Stable Duty
With Dimitri
Ivan: “…It’s not by much, but I think I’ve gotten a little more used to horses.”
Dimitri: “That’s wonderful, Ivan! You’ve grown so much while I wasn’t around. I’m proud of you.”
Ivan: “Th-that’s a little too much, don’t you think?”
With Felix
Felix: “Well, looks who’s not shaking like a newborn fawn.”
Ivan: “I’ve grown since you last saw me, Felix! I-Ah! S-stay away!”
Felix: “Hah…Well, at least he isn’t running away.”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “I’m glad to see you’re a little calmer around horses now.”
Ivan: “Well, I can’t be a cowardly child forever, can I?”
Ingrid: “…You’ve worked hard, haven’t you?”
With Sylvain
Ivan: “I must tell you, Sylvain, you won’t see me cowering behind you anymore! I’ve gotten a little more used to horses now, so I-Ahh!”
Sylvain: “You sure you don’t wanna cower behind me?”
Ivan: “…P-please don’t tell anyone.”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “Aww, these horses are rather sweet, aren’t they, Ivan?”
Ivan: “…Yes, I-I suppose they’re not so bad.”
Mercedes: “So long as you’re patient and gentle, I’m sure the day will come when they won’t scare you anymore.”
Sky Watch
With Dimitri
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm~ Dimitri, you’ve been quiet for a while. Are you surprised to hear me humming?”
Dimitri: “I admit, seeing you at ease enough to hum atop a Pegasus is surprising. But…I was just focused on your voice. I’ve missed your music…”
Ivan: “…Then, what’s your request? I’ll perform for you later, like when we were children.”
With Felix
Felix: “You’ve finally calmed down around Pegasi, have you?”
Ivan: “Well, yes and no. I still feel terrible around them, but I’ve gotten better at pushing through regardless of my fear.”
Felix: “Hmm…Not bad, I guess.”
With Ingrid
Ivan: “Ingrid, what is it about Pegasi that make you like them so much?”
Ingrid: “Well, I’ve always adored horses, so I suppose loving Pegasi was just natural. I adore the feeling of flying beneath the blue skies, the wind whipping past. It’s exhilarating!”
Ivan: “I see…I guess that does sound interesting.”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Hey, Ivan, how’re you doing over there? Don’t panic now.”
Ivan: “Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Sylvain: “Heh, he’s in his own little world.”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “Hmm, hmm, hmm~”
Ivan: “Your humming sounds nice, Mercedes.”
Mercedes: “Why, thank you! I can see why you enjoy humming so much. It’s so relaxing!”
Perfect Result
With Dimitri
Ivan: “Well done, Dimitri! We never would’ve finished as fast as we did without you.”
Dimitri: “You’re the one who deserves most of the credit, Ivan.”
With Felix
Felix: “I suppose there are worse partner to work beside.”
Ivan: “Why, that just may be the nicest thing you’ve said to me since we reunited.”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “We managed to take care of everything. Thank you for all the help, Ivan!”
Ivan: “I’m glad to have been of service. Thank you as well, Ingrid!”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “Whew! All in a day’s work, huh, Ivan?”
Ivan: “You worked hard, Sylvain. Good job.”
With Mercedes
Mercedes: “We did well today! It’s all thanks to you, Ivan!”
Ivan: “Oh please, you’re the one who deserves the praise, Mercedes.”
Good Result
With Dimitri
Ivan: “Alright, the job’s done. I didn’t hold you back, did I?”
Dimitri: “You could never hold me back.”
With Felix
Ivan: “Good work today, Felix! We had fun, didn’t we?”
Felix: “Are you honestly saying that with a straight face?”
With Ingrid
Ingrid: “That was exhausting, but we finished up, Professor.”
Ivan: “Thanks for all the help, Ingrid!”
With Sylvain
Sylvain: “We’re done! Man, that was such a pain!”
Ivan: “Was it really that bad? I thought we were doing well.”
With Mercedes
Ivan: “We’ve finished the job, Professor. I’m sorry it took so long.”
Mercedes: “My, I’m exhausted! I’m glad you were there to help out, Ivan.”
#submission#willow#other dimitri au#bae's tags: I LOVE THIS AND I NEED TO REREAD IT!!#i NEED to know what went down in ivan and dima's support..... a fight?? wHAT FIGHT... what fight that went off and changed their groupwork#quotes....#ALSO i love love ivan's relationship with mercie!!#actually i love this au of the original au in the first place#you know what breaks my heart the most in the og au?#the DAGGER#god#imagining ivan getting it for dima and then just getting it delivered to himself is heartbreaking#sylvain and ivan's relationship in the au au is so cute too.... ivan doesnt want to hide behind him but...#i cant wait for part 2 angst!!!!#bc i need to see what happens to the boy in the timeskip!!!#also a 50% mag growth... whew
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Johnny Prince!AU
Prince Johnny is an idiot with a crown.
Or at least that’s what his best friend Ten tells people when they ask him for the truth about the “tall and dark prince”
The only thing dark about ya boi Johnny is his hair, and even then it gets fairly light in the summer.
He has this whole Cool Guy persona because he wanted the kingdom to see him as a prince and not as the guy who has to eat french toast every morning or it literally ruins his whole day.
To sum up: Johnny is a goofy and lovable prince with a very big heart.
Just about no one else gets to see this, though. They all see him as an untouchable, royal entity. Mostly because that’s what people want to think and Johnny’s not really about to correct them because he likes that people think he’s cool instead of a doofus.
You have the same opinion of the prince as everyone else, because that’s the general gossip in the capital.
Running a clinic, you wouldn’t think that patients would be in the mood to spill tea but there is a lot of laying around in bed and waiting involved, so you can’t really blame them.
Plus- you’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy being constantly in the loop about these things.
“And then when the princess’s shawl was ripped from her shoulders by the wind, Prince Youngho leapt off his horse just to grab it before it hit the ground!”
“Ooo, really?”
“I want someone to treat me like that… all my husband does is waste all our money betting on the knight’s matches”
“...”
“What?! You know it’s true!”
This clinic was something you started a few years ago when you moved into this section of the city and realized there was no accessible health care.
At that point, you had just finished your apprenticeship and were looking to start up your own place anyway, so a clinic seemed like a good idea.
And a good idea it was! When you first opened, an influx of people rushed in, and that’s when it really dawned on you how much these people needed help.
And how much they weren't getting it.
For as much as this nation prides itself on its advanced medical discoveries… a lot of people can’t afford it.
So if you have to flirt with the herbalist a little to get your ingredients for remedies at a lower rate, that’s what you do.
Lower rates for you means lower rates for your patients.
As of late, patients have been traveling great distances to come specifically to your clinic, and for the life of you you can't fathom why.
“It's because you actually know what you're doing unlike the quack in my village”, Gertrude says when you mention the influx of non-locals.
“I really can't be that much better than anyone else…”, you admit and Gertrude gives you a stern look.
Gertrude has been a patient of yours for a few months ever since her hip started acting up again. Apparently the doctor in her village thought she was faking the recurring pain to get drugs and refused to see her.
She's also one of the people you've become close to in this town. It usually takes a lot for people to break down your walls, but Gertrude is the kind of person you can't help but pour your heart out to.
“Listen, sweetie”, she starts and you just know she's about to lecture you about life like she usually does. “You should take your next day off and go to the next town over to pay that doctor a visit. He's supposedly one of the best in the country, but one look at him and you'll realize what talent you really have, dear”
And of course you listen to her because she's usually always right about these things.
Locking up your quaint little office in the back of the building, you tell your apprentice Chenle not to kill anyone while you're gone.
To which he just snorts and continues stitching up some guy's hand.
The travel time isn't too bad- only like an hour on horseback. You tie up your horse to the nearest post and begin to form a game plan.
If you just walk in like “hey I'm your competition, I heard you suck?? came here to confirm”, the doctor is not likely to be very responsive.
So this is why when you walk in, you immediately pretend to faint.
Eyes closed and back against the cool tile floor, you feel strong arms pick you up and bring you to what you assume is somewhere other than the practically empty lobby.
You open them after an appropriate amount of time and are met with beautiful milk chocolate eyes staring into yours.
“Are- are you the doctor?”, you ask, stunned by the boy's pretty face so close.
“No, I'm just studying under him. I'm Johnny, by the way. Are you alright?”
“I'm not sure. I don't,,,, I don't know what's going on, really”, you lie out of your teeth with ease.
“Okay, okay just stay here- I'll go get the doctor!”
David Tennant bursts into the room- (I’m sorry)
It takes forty seven minutes for the doctor to make an appearance.
Before your dramatic collapse in front of the receptionist, you scanned the room briefly and found it void of life.
That's strike one.
When the doctor finally makes an appearance, he stares at the chart in his hand as he asks you basic medically relevant questions.
He hasn’t even looked at you once.
That’s strike two.
The final incompetent action is what really sets you off.
This genius not only doesn’t look at you, but he keeps stealing glances over at the clock right behind you instead.
And that’s strike three.
“Does anyone in your family have a history of-”, he continues to drone off as his eyes flicker up to the clock again.
“Do you have somewhere better to be? Am I intruding on your precious time?”, you snap suddenly.
“I- what? Why would you-”
“Because you’ve spent an awfully large sum of time staring at the clock and an immensely small amount of time focusing on me. Your supposed patient”
“I’m not trying to-”
“Trying to what? Ignore your patient? Listen to me. You’re asking all the wrong things. My theoretically problem coming in today is low blood pressure. Pretty damn standard. In the time you’ve asked me every question in the book, a person who actually has extremely low blood pressure would have fainted in your office again”, you lecture, confident in the astonished look on this old quack’s face. Until the astonishment fades and rage sets in.
“Your theoretical illness?”
“...”
“...”
“Well I’ll be going, itwasnicetomeetyouBYE”, you sputter as you dash out of the patient room and by some stroke of luck the doctor doesn’t come yelling after you.
You do happen to run face first into the chest of that pretty boy from earlier, Johnny.
“Oof, you in a hurry there?”, he chuckles, holding onto your shoulders.
“Do you enjoy working under Dr. Dull or would you like to come learn some actual healing under me?”, you ask abruptly.
“Under you? Uh I’m flattered but-”, he says, dropping his hands to his sides faster than you thought humanly possible.
“nO I’m a heALer okaY, I didn’t mean it like that. My practice is about an hour away, close to the capital”
“Oh! I’ve heard of that clinic before, you must be Y/N!”, he practically shouts and you reach up to slap a hand over his mouth.
“Yes that’s me!! But I’ve just thoroughly pissed off your boss so are you in or not?”, you propose, readying yourself to bolt past Johnny if that doctor decides to come after you after all.
“I’m in!! Definitely in”
“Okay cool, we’re leaving right now”
“SIR YES SIR”, he says and gives you a little salute.
There’s no time to roll your eyes, so you settle from grabbing one of his large hands in yours and dragging him out of the place.
The two of your sprint to the other side of the road and as you start untying your horse, he starts untying what you really hope is his horse and not one he decided just now to steal.
Jumping on your horse and him jumping on probably his horse, the two of you make your way back to your clinic.
It’s not a very far journey, but you and Johnny end up talking the entire time. Mostly him asking you about obscure medical phenomenons and you asking him about himself.
His questions you answer almost immediately, but for your questions, he hesitates.
To which you become embarrassed for prying and are like “it’s personal, I get it. You don’t have to answer”, but he always does anyway, even if it takes him a minute.
Once the both of you arrive and you lead him into the building, Gertrude is chilling in her usual lounge chair in the lobby knitting a scarf when she looks up to see you with him.
And she just smirks knowingly and you stare at her with the silent message in your eyes saying “I know he’s gorgeous but that’s not what this is about so shuT uP-”
You introduce Chenle to Johnny and are like “get along because the wellness of our patients relies on your teamwork” and then shut yourself in your office to Cope With The Day.
This is not what you’d intended to go to that town for, but leaving someone who actually likes medicine,,, and wants to help people,,, under the direction of that moron “doctor” felt so wrong that you couldn’t help but literally drag him out of there.
Someone knocks on your door and you know exactly who it is.
Before you can say anything, Gertrude silently enters and plops herself in the seat across from you.
“...”
“...”
“So who’s the hottie?”
“stOP IT”
“...”
“... his name’s Johnny…”, you mumble, not making eye contact.
“I’m gonna need more than that, sweetie”
And so you spill the metaphorical tea while Gertrude spills the literal tea.
She has a slight tremor in her left hand so her teacup splashed, but you assured her it was fine and said that a tea stain on the carpet will add character to your otherwise monotone office.
After a while, another soft knock sounds on your office door. When you get up to open it, it is of course the man of the hour- Johnny.
“I have to go but I didn't want to leave without talking to you first”
“Ah okay, let's talk in the hall then”, you say, shoving him out of the doorframe and out of your office. He spins around and immediately begins to ramble.
“We didn’t really talk about this earlier but I have another job technically and so I won’t be able to come in everyday but I still want to learn-”
“That’s fine, come whenever you can”
“...”
“What?”, you ask since he’s staring at you like you’ve got two heads or something.
“Nothing it’s just… you’ve gotten be about the nicest person I’ve ever met”, he admits, causing your face to actually combust.
“That’s uhh,,,,, thanks I guess. I um shouldgetbacktoGertrudesopleaseexcuseme”, you say and rush back into your office, slamming the door behind you.
After a moment, you hear a hearty chuckle and then the sound of his footsteps slowly trailing away from your office.
“Not a word, Gertrude”
“Wouldn’t consider it, dear”, she says and you don’t even have to turn to her to know she’s got that all-knowing smirk plastered on her mildly wrinkled face.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
The next day at the clinic, Johnny doesn’t show.
And he’s not there the next day, either.
Or the next.
After a week and a half, you’ve given up entirely the idea of him coming back- so that’s of course when he waltzes through the front door.
“Hello!”, he says somewhat nervously, but his normal cheerful tone shines through nonetheless.
“Hello. Awfully busy, were you?”, you ask, trying not to come off as annoyed as you actually are. When you told him to come in whenever he could, you would’ve at least appreciated some communication on his part.
“Sorry, a lot of things have happened this week”
“Yeah- no kidding. Which is why I need you here! No one’s seen an outbreak of the flu like this in decades”
“Oh no… really?”, he responds with a fake cluelessness that most people wouldn’t be able to detect. But patients lie all the time, so weeding them out is a handy skill you’ve picked up.
“Sure… just get to work. Be wherever Chenle needs you and do whatever he says”
“,,,,that kid’s like half my age”, he mumbles mostly to himself.
“And that kid has got way more experience than you. Stop wasting my time and get to work”, you snap and storm off.
He stands there stunned for a moment, and then turns and walks off.
You’re shocked at yourself, really. In this field of work it’s important to stay rational and that’s something you’ve been able to accomplish so far but… it’s just something about him that rubs you the wrong way.
He’s cheerful and friendly and good with people.
But he’s also a flake and a liar.
His entire existence is one giant contradiction and that bothers the living hell out of you.
“Why do I even care…”, you sigh.
“Because he’s gorgeous and tall, that’s why”, Gertrude butts in.
“w h a t”
“Deary, let’s just say if I was thirty-five years younger-”, she starts and you can see where she’s going with it.
“And what would your wife think of you talking about some beautiful hunk like that?”, you joke.
“My wife would appreciate that I have good taste. And she’ll never know because you won’t tell her, because if you do, I’ll tell that beautiful hunk that you think he’s got a nice ass”
“GERTRUDE YOU WOULDN’T”, you shout in front of everyone, knowing very well that she most definitely would.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
After about a month, you’re fairly certain there is not another soul in this kingdom that could possibly get this strain of the flu.
It seems that everyone got sick- hell, even Chenle was out for a week.
So for a week it was just you and Johnny, and you apologized for snapping and he apologized for flaking and everything felt a lot better.
Better, but not perfect. Something in your gut keeps telling you he’s too good to be true. That he has to be hiding something.
But as far as you can see, he’s a perfectly normal and lovely guy. He’s amazing with patients and cares for people on a level that’s so rare to find in a person.
Just when you’re checking out the last of the flu patients after a particularly physically straining day, you begin to feel an intense wave of dizziness.
Equal distance away from you are each of the boys, and even though Chenle’s the more experienced healer, Johnny’s name leaves your lips instead.
You hear thundering footsteps before your vision goes black.
Waking up, your first thought is “this is the warmest pillow ever”, and your second is “who the hell’s holding my hand?”
You blink open your eyes and are met with the ever so familiar face of Gertrude. That explains the warmth, considering your head is rested across her petite legs.
Peering down your arm, you see that Johnny’s the one with his hand around your wrist.
So of course you yank it away in a drowsy panic.
“you… perv...”, you manage to croak out, and he just laughs in that music-to-your-ears way that makes your heart sing, whether you’d like to admit it or not.
“I’m checking your pulse, don’t be such a baby”, he teases.
“Fine- whatever you say Your Highness”, you tease right back, but for a flash of a second you see a mix of shock and fear in his eyes and makes your trust in him waver yet again.
“Didn’t you… don’t you have somewhere to be? You mentioned a meeting earlier…”, you stumble with your words, barely able to create coherent thoughts in your current state of illness.
“This is more important. They’ll be fine without me”, he says with an amount of seriousness you didn’t think he was capable of.
“Well…. I hate third wheeling so I’m just gonna go”, Gertrude announces, practically dropping your head and then leaving, shooting you a wink.
You hope Johnny assumes the redness in your face is due to the fever and not…. other reasons.
You hadn’t realized how delicate he could be until you happen to be the one under his care.
It’s different watching him work with patients from a healer’s perspective and being the patient yourself.
For the next week, Johnny doesn’t leave your side. And if you're being honest with yourself- you love every second.
He's usually always coming and going, so having him here for so long makes your heart pound out of your chest.
Which you know is physically impossible, but a decent metaphor regardless.
About a week later, you’re feeling much better and Johnny still refuses to leave you just yet.
Right as you’re about to push him out the door so he can actually get some decent rest (he’s been sleeping on the couch in your office which is not comfy after several days straight), Chenle bursts through the door.
“The Prince has been declared missing!! He’s gone!”
“Unless he needs a medic, I don’t see why I should care Chenle”, you say nonchalantly, still trying to drag Johnny out.
“Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me”, Johnny practically spits and you let go of his wrist, mostly out of shock. You’ve never seen him as anything but a teddy bear of a person, even with all his mystery.
You look at Chenle, and then at Johnny.
And you put the puzzle pieces together.
“You’re the royalty, aren’t you Johnny? Or should I say Prince Youngho?”
He walks out the door without a word.
<><><><><><><><><><><>
After about a week, Johnny/Youngho/Whoever the fuck hasn’t dropped by.
You give it another couple of days before deciding to take action into your own hands and practically giving Chenle and Gertrude a stroke in the process.
“Chenle, watch the patients while I’m gone”
“Gone? Are you going out to buy herbs?”, he asks.
“Nope. I’m going to go request an audience with the Prince”
“YOUNG LADY-”, Gertrude starts but you cut her off.
“You’re the one who’s wanted me to be with him from the start! You should be happy I’m doing something about it!”
“...so this isn’t a professional trip? It’s cause you like him?” she asks and you reluctantly nod. You’ve never been one to open up but it’s hard to close her out.
“That’s unprofessional”, Chenle says.
“Your face is unprofessional. Honestly, you look like you’re twelve”, Gertrude decides it’s an appropriate time to announce.
“Gertrude!”, you laugh and just leave because it’s not like it isn’t true.
You walk to the castle, figuring that even if they’re generous enough to let you in, they probably won’t want to deal with bringing your horse to the stables.
Which is irritating because it’s like a forty five minute walk and you were just sick last week.
But it’s worth it because you know he’s worth it. If he hears you out, that is.
Approaching the castle gates, the guards look less than pleased to see anyone for that matter.
“Do you have an official summons?”, one of them ask.
“No, but I need to speak to Johnny”
“Who? Is he that new guy working in the kitchens?”
“Uhhh yeah. He’s my,,,, boyfriend. And he left something at my house that he needs”
“...”, the guards just look at each other because they really don’t care.
“Right now”, you say with a false confidence you just hope they won’t see through.
And they don’t! They let you in and lead you to…. the kitchens.
Great.
Deciding you can’t just barge into the kitchens like an idiot, you do the only other logical thing.
Wander around and hope you don’t get caught.
You walk up what feel like exactly a kajiLLION stAIRS before you hear the delicate sound of piano.
Making your way down the hall very carefully, all whilst trying to give off an “I belong here so don’t bother me” aura, you draw nearer to the music.
And what do you know- it’s Johnny at the bench.
“So what- are you just good at everything AND loaded? Seems unfair”, you blurt out and he slams the keys in a crash of dissonant chords.
“How the hell-”, he starts, spinning around but remaining on the bench.
You tread into the practically empty ballroom, save for the piano. And the prince, of course.
“You think you can just not show up to work?”
“....I’m the prince. You said so yourself”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?”, he says, now standing up and walking over to you. He pulls you in the room and slams the door shut.
“I don’t care that you’re the prince. You’re still my apprentice and you have responsibilities at my practice”, you declare, having to crane your neck to meet his gaze.
“Oh. So that’s what this is about. Business”, he says and he almost seems,,,,, upset by it.
“Not- not entirely”, you force yourself to admit.
“What?”
“I told the guards our front that you were my boyfriend”, you blurt out and then mentally facepalm. “I mean- I told them that I had a boyfriend in the castle named Johnny and they didn’t seem to think that that’s you, so I guess you don’t go by that here which makes sense, so I said he works in the kitchens and-”
“I could be your boyfriend”, he says and you have to double check that you didn’t imagine it.
“You what?”
“I want to be your boyfriend. But I’d lied to you for so long that I didn’t think you’d want… me”, he confesses.
“Yeah, I’m REAL upset that the guy I like is secretly the prince of this country. Truly freaking devastated over here, could you go fetch me a bag of gold to cry into?”, you laugh and to your surprise, he laughs too.
He escorts you out of the castle, hand in hand (the sight made some maid drop her basket of laundry in shock), and the two of you ride on his horse back to your practice.
When you walk in, Chenle is drawing on a fake mustache and Gertrude is giving him tips on how to make it look realistic, and honestly- for once everything feels right.
With Johnny agreeing to stop by at least twice a week to help out with patients (and more days than that to spend time with you), everything is starting to fit into place.
An old lady, an actual twelve year old, and the goddamn priNCE are not the most conventional family, but they sure are yours. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
#yeah I post sometimes#nct#nct127#nct au#nct127 au#nct scenarios#nct scenario#nct127 scenarios#nct127 scenario#nct127 imagines#nct imagines#nct imagine#nct johnny#nct youngho#johnny seo#johnny au#johnny scenarios#nct prince au#nct127 prince au#nct 127#nct 127 scenarios#youngho scenarios#seo youngho#nct 127 imagines#nct 127 au
306 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
morefun-jmg
Morefun-jmg
thekevinxkeller
there's complicated and then there's kevin
maiusbonum
ran out of choices.
reelvintageworld
Mis-Appropriating
