#i would steal good omens’ queen pass is what i’m saying
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i can’t criticize netflix for using modern styles of music in their project, because if i were in charge of a live-action witcher project, i’m sorry, but you would be getting queen, dire straits, prince, electric light orchestra, talking heads, bauhaus, and tears for fears as background music, played unironicaly, to multiple montages and end-of-episode credits.
and it would be awesome.
#i mean good omens does it but good omens has a story character reason for it and it fits their universe so#i would steal good omens’ queen pass is what i’m saying#also same with wwdits their ending songs are always great#txt#can you imagine time of contempt ending with everybody wants to rule the world#🎶 turn your back on mother nature#all i’m saying is edge of the world would end with you’re my best friend
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I need...Morgott being a pervert. Bare with me on this.
Tags: Smut, Pantie Stealing, Masturbation, Pining, Morgott being a pervert, But you want him to be one so it's all good, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Cum Inflation, Guilt, Very brief mention of non-con but Morgott would never, it’s his guilt talking, Female Tarnished
You've been teasing him for weeks now, he's sure of it. How you learned of his affections for you he'll never know, and while he knew they would never be returned, he never expected...this.
He thought if you ever found out it would lead to an explosive encounter. A confrontation. You calling him disgusting and a failure, hating him for feeling such a way towards you. Or for laughter, a mirthless glint in your eye as you mock him for thinking he could ever be good enough for you.
But never did he expect such...quiet cruelty.
You don't say anything to him, but it's clear you know. You keep...tempting him. Brushing against him while talking, your fingers bumping his hand as you walk in the halls. And flirting.
By the Erdtree, the flirting.
Constant compliments and promises you can't possibly mean, that no person could possibly mean when speaking to or about him.
'Oh, wow Morgott, you're so strong~ I would love to see what other things you can lift~'
'Morgott my King, what do you look for in a Queen? I'd like to be sure I'm making a good impression~'
And all manner of other remarks.
A man can only take so much. Morgott prides himself on his resilience, but truthfully? Laughter or anger would be preferable to this.
You're mocking him, he knows it. But it's in such a sweet way that he can't reasonably be upset with you when you do it. Especially because when he does start to become upset, you back off.
You look at him with those big, earnest doe eyes, so apologetic for stepping too far. It's driving him mad.
The desire he feels boiling his blood...it's all too much. He needs to feel sweet release...
Which is how he finds himself in your chambers, digging through your drawers. He waited patiently for you to head outside to the training grounds, so he could sneak in with you none the wiser.
And he's finally found what he's looking for.
A drawer full of, frankly adorable, panties. Guilt churns his stomach inside out but the heat pulsing towards his cock is enough to burn it away for now.
He can feel guilty later. Right now? He needs to show you (or at least, his fantasy of you) what happens when you push an Omen too far.
He walks down the hallways at his usual slow and steady pace, a cute pair of well worn undies balled tight into his massive fist. He wants to marvel at how small they are, but first he needs to get to safety.
He passes by many servants, none of whom spare him a second glance. The guilt comes back full force.
'They don't even know how sinful you truly are. Stealing from her, even if it is just clothing. No, worse, it's her private clothing, inherently lewd, that you've taken. Disgusting.'
He can't help but agree with himself, but he doesn't stop.
Locked away in his bed chambers, the King finally looks at his prize.
It's a cute pair, made of red silk that the castle tailor must have made upon your request. His ears burn red as he thinks of why and when you would wear such a fancy piece of fabric. He wishes it could be around him...
But it will never happen. Because you could never love him, and instead you play this cruel game of teasing his senses until he breaks. Just thinking about it made his blood boil with anger and lust anew. How dare you do such a thing to him!? Where did you find the gal!?
Such deeds deserve proper punishment.
His robe is off in seconds as he settles into his nest, a pile of blankets and pillows on his old but comfortable mattress. His cock is already growing firm, the pink head peeking out from his sheath and dripping precum onto his fluffy thighs.
"Damn thee, Tarnished..." He whispers, looking at the fabric in his hand. His other hand travels down to cup his aching balls, fingers massaging to help relieve the buildup of pressure he feels. His cock slips further from its sheath, drooping down with its own weight as his knot finally pops free of its confinement.
How would you look, he wonders, to see such a monstrous cock? Disgusted? Terrified?
He could grab the back of your head by your hair, forcefully press your cheek and lips against his dripping cock and force you to swallow him till he shot his load down your tight throat.
But he didn't want to be feared. To be reviled...
What if you...you wanted to be here?
Your cunt aching for him, dripping in your red panties till they were soaked through...Letting his fingers hook the edge and slowly slide them down your legs...Bringing the fabric close to his nose and taking a deep inhale of that lovely scent of arousal, smirking at the way your cheeks glow red in embarrassed flattery.
He does bring the panties towards his nose as his fist wraps around his cock. They're clean, but he swears he can just catch the slightest scent of you from when you last wore them...
He squeezes his hand tight around his knot, imagining it to be your lips, the rest of his cock slipping deep inside your throat. Those big doe eyes of yours looking up at him through your lashes, begging him to release inside for you to swallow, and he would do so.
Cumming ropes of sticky, thick cum down the tight squeeze of your throat, filling your tummy full of him. With how small you were...seeing your tummy slowly distend as more and more cum leaves him, your sweet lips draining him dry.
He can see it so clearly in his mind...
He pulls the panties away from his nose, bringing them down to his aching cock. He swiftly wraps the fabric around his length, the crotch that normally rests against your cute cunt being pressed against his leaking head. A wet spot is already spreading.
After filling your throat to the brim he'd flip you over. You'd squeak in such an adorable way at the sudden change, finding yourself on your hands and knees for him. Your belly would hang just a bit from the weight of his cum keeping you filled, and one of your hands would reach down to cup it as you moan.
You'd wiggle your ass against his cock, begging him to keep filling you, to use your holes and make you his Queen. To fill your empty womb with his children, to knock you up and marry you and keep you forever and ever.
And he'd do so.
He'd push deep and slow into your wet opening, tight heat enveloping his cock in a vice like grip. You would squeal and cry his name for all to hear, begging for an Omen to get you pregnant and fill your waiting womb with his seed. No matter how much he gives you, it's never enough. You want it all, forever, for him to hold you and never let you go...
It's then that he cums in his own fist. His fertile seed soaking through your silk panties still wrapped around his fat cock. The King lays there for a few moments, letting his breathing even out before the crushing guilt comes back to him.
#Elden Ring#Elden Ring Morgott#Morgott#Morgott The Omen King#Morgott The Grace Given#Morgott X Reader#Morgott X Tarnished#My writing#Smut
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Moving Heaven And Hell
Gaiman’s TV adaptation of his and Terry Prachett’s Good Omens is coming to UK terrestrial TV this January and here’s its director and executive producer Douglas Mackinnon talking about it…
This has clearly been a splendid partnership between you and Neil. What have you most enjoyed about working with him?
It’s been a fantastic experience. It’s been a complete collaboration. He’s very generous in that way. We work very well together. Rather than getting stuck on a problem, we turn it to our advantage. We have a really unified vision. My task as a director is to dig into the brain of Neil and the brain of the book. I see my role as an enabler. If someone says to me: “We can’t afford to do the Kraken,” it’s my job to find a way of doing it that fits with our budget.
We managed to secure Shakespeare’s Globe as a location, but we couldn’t afford to populate it with a large crowd. In the book, the scene is the first week of Hamlet. It’s a great success, and the Globe is very crowded. So I said to Neil: “How about doing the same scene, but Hamlet is a disaster and no one is coming to see it, so we don’t need a big crowd?” In the scene, Crowley and Aziraphale turn up at an empty Globe and have a conversation about their relationship. Crowley says a line, and Shakespeare steals it!
We shot an 11-person scene set in a church during the Second World War with all the principal actors, Mark Gatiss and Steve Pemberton – all in one day. We also shot Atlantis, a Kraken and a flying saucer. Those things would be the centrepiece of an episode of Doctor Who, but we threw them away in two minutes. Also, the bookshop needs to look like it’s in the heart of Soho. But it needs to go on fire at the end, too. That was a very expensive set to burn!
Tell us how you have paid respect to the late Terry Pratchett…
In Good Omens, Neil has been carrying out a personal mission to represent Terry everywhere. One of the things I said to Neil very early on was to repeat the rule I had with Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss on Sherlock – I never needed to know who wrote what line. I think that’s more respectful to Neil and to Terry. Sometimes Neil would say: “That’s a really important scene to me.” One example was the sushi scene. He and Terry had made a pact with each other to be there for the filming of that scene – perhaps because they wanted free sushi. Neil passed on that sentiment to me. We have also dropped in some tributes to Terry. For example, it is Terry’s real hat that hangs in the bookshop.
You famously have the most thumbed copy of Good Omens in the world. Was that book very useful on set?
Definitely. The book is the solution to everything. Our respect for the book was the beginning and the end of it all. Even in the cutting room, Neil would say to me: “There is something not quite right about this scene. I wish there was another line we could add here.” I would reply: “There is a line we can add here. You wrote it 30 years ago in the book!” When we were editing, the structure of the book really helped us. Five million people have read Good Omens. Maybe there is something in Neil’s storytelling!
What music have you chosen for Good Omens?
We’ve got 15 Queen tracks, which is a great coup, especially considering the success of Bohemian Rhapsody. In the book, Bohemian Rhapsody plays when Crowley gets his instructions about what to do with the Antichrist. We even have a Freddie Mercury impersonator. When I was hoping to get this project, I wandering around Vancouver – where I was filming Dirk Gently – listening to Queen and reading the book. I’m a lifelong Queen fan, so I wasn’t such an idiot when I was listening to them when I was 14!
Why is Frances McDormand such good casting as God?
She has this amazing voice. She helps the audience through this very complex story, so she is our guide as well as God. She’s Terry and Neil’s representative in heaven.
How would you characterise the tone of Good Omens?
Before we started, I played all departments two David Bowie songs. First of all, I played them Life On Mars with Rick Wakeman’s marvellous, pure piano accompaniment. I told the departments: “That’s not Good Omens. It’s too perfect.” Then I played them Aladdin Sane where Mike Garson plays this wonderful cracked piano solo. I said to the departments: “That’s Good Omens.” It’s not something pure. It’s something that shouldn’t be beautiful, but is. It’s like when the Japanese break pots – they paint over the cracks with gold. You celebrate the scar.
What message do you hope that people take away from Good Omens?
I hope it doesn’t sound pompous, but it shows that peace can win over war. You can talk most problems out. You don’t have to fight them out. But for me, the biggest element in all drama is relationships. As EM Forster said, drama is about displaying relationships. Seeing Crowley and Aziraphale – the ultimate representations of good and evil – get on so well is the most beautiful thing. It’s like Butch and Sundance or Thelma and Louise. It all depends on the very special chemistry between David and Michael. That’s the core of it. From the moment they meet in the Garden of Eden, there are classic couple. They bicker, but love each other and find a way through their differences, which are pretty extreme.
Why does the partnership between David and Michael work so well in Good Omens?
The success of the show lies in their chemistry, which comes from them enjoying doing something different from their previous projects. Michael has described their scenes together as like a little dance. It’s a very high-powered version of Strictly Come Dancing. Does that mean I am Bruce Forsyth?
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Much Obliged
Inspired by @bugaboo-n-bananoir‘s amazing Cowboy!Adrien and Witch!Marinette Au.
I’m probably going to write more to this later. It’s just too funny.
Ao3
---
Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity.
Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy.
It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision either. He had always been obsessed with American Westerns. Especially John Wayne. He practically worshipped the man.
He had a collection of hats, boots, spurs, and chaps. He had his favorite bolo tie, and every summer for two weeks, he helped out at his uncle’s ranch in the countryside, where he learned a thing or two about riding horses, lassoing, and other things his father would probably have heart attack over if he knew.
Yes, Adrien was obsessed with Cowboys and the Cowboy lifestyle.
So much so, that when he lost this mother, and subsequently emotionally lost his father, his closeted obsession became very public.
A 14 year old boy walking around with cowboy boots, hat, spurs and occasional chaps wouldn’t have been as jarring if they were in Texas. But given they were in the middle of Paris, France...he pretty much stuck out as a sore thumb. Even more so in the circles his father was included in. Sprinkling in a few ‘yeehaw’s, ‘howdy’s, and ‘pardner’s into his French was also pretty jarring.
And a complete embarrassment to his father, Gabriel Agreste, fashion icon.
“Adrien, I insist you stop this foolishness!” Gabriel said one day, after Adrien had turned up to a photo shoot in full gear.
“I cain’t pa!” Adrien yelled back. “It’s in my blood!”
“Stop talking like that! You don’t have a Texan accent!”
“I reckon I do!”
For a year, the arguments would continue, getting louder and louder until Adrien would plug his ears and start yodeling to drown his father out.
Eventually, they came to an agreement. Adrien would pretend to be like every normal Parisian at photo shoots, fashion shows, and big events. But he could continue to be a Cowboy at home without being reprimanded.
It worked for a while, really in Gabriel’s favor. The brief appearances of Cowboy Adrien in the past were written off as a phase.
But then Adrien demanded to go to school.
“I’m tired of bein’ cooped up here like a chicken! I want to go out and meet other folks!”
“You’re not like other folks! Er—other people!” Gabriel argues back. “You’re...special.”
“Sir, if I may?” Nathalie, Gabriel’s Stoic secretary spoke up. “Perhaps Adrien attending public school would be a good thing. It might encourage him to…drop some habits.”
Begrudgingly, Gabriel agreed, and Adrien was off to school.
Being homeschooled most of his life, Adrien didn’t have many friends. But he did have Chloe, who tolerated his Cowboy-ness with some degree of skepticism. She was never vocal about it, but she did secretly judge him, worry for his sanity. It was her school, her class, that he was transferring into today.
She waited for him at the front door, frowning slightly when she saw him exit the sedan with a white hat, flannel shirt, jeans, boots, and a wide belt buckle with a bronco on it.
But she smiled once he made eye-contact with her. After all, he was still very famous, and very handsome. “Howdy Chloe.”
“Oh yee-haw Adrikins!” She sang, clinging to his arm. “I’m so glad your father let you finally come to school!”
“Me too! But I reckon he just got annoyed with me practicing my rope tricks in the foyer all the time. The other day I lassoed a vase and smashed it. Not too happy ‘bout that, he was.”
“Oh, like he couldn’t buy a hundred more,” she waved her hand. “Come with me! I’ll show you to your seat!”
Upon entering the school, Adrien was suddenly bombarded with fans asking for autographs. It seemed everyone was just taking his attire for an interesting choice of fashion. That was what Chloe was hoping for.
But as soon as he started tipping his hat as a reply to ‘thank you’s, she started to see the eyebrows rising. People were suspicious. Maybe they’d just think it was part of the look. Yeah…maybe…
—
Marinette was not having a great day. Not a bad day though! Just not great. For one thing, she heard that Chloe Bourgeois was going to be in her class again this year. Again. Seriously, did Chloe ask to put in the same class on purpose? It was totally unfair!
But she was wearing her favorite black dress today, one that was enchanted to have a galaxy glittering on it, and if you looked closely, you could see it moving. It made her feel powerful, and not at all like the half-washed witch that she was. Sure she knew a few spells, but nothing very powerful, or life changing.
And certainly no curses, like Chloe told everyone she did. Hexes, yes, but not curses. Curses were powerful and crippling and permanent, even down bloodlines. Hexes would pass over time, like a bad pimple or excessive farting. Not really something she could claim as her work.
So that in laid the problem. A girl that calls herself a witch, but doesn’t really have the power to show it? Might as well paint a giant target on the forehead with a sign that said, “I’m delusional, please laugh at me!”
But things were going to be different this year! She was going to stand up for herself and she was going to prove she could do magic!
“Are you ready for school, Marinette?” A sweet voice, her familiar Tikki, asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go!” She beckoned the ladybug-like fairy into her purse.
But immediately after leaving her parents bakery with a box of macrons to share, she was knocked off balance by a cyclist and dropped the box. Thirteen smashed macrons on the ground.
“This is an ill omen.” She stated gravely.
“Yes, but you still have seven good ones left in the box!” Tikki reassured.
Marinette smirked. “Then lets get to school before I spill them all!”
Only a minute later did she crash again, this time only breaking one cookie. The person she ran into was another girl, a student like her.
“I’m so sorry!” Marinette stated, helping the girl to her feet. “I’m so clumsy!”
“That’s alright clumsy girl.” Said the newbie. “I’m Alya.”
“I’m Marinette! You must be new here, right?”
“Yep! I’m starting in Miss Bustier’s class. How about you?”
“I’m in her class too!”
“Oh lucky break! I’m horrible with talking to new people on my own. Thanks for the ice breaker!” She laughed.
Marinette gave her a flat look. “Well, see if I ever purposely run into you again.”
Alya just laughed more. “You’re funny! Let’s sit together, and then you can give me the low down on the hierarchy of the class.”
“Hierarchy?”
“Yeah, like who’s popular, who’s at the bottom of the totem pole.”
“Oh that’s easy. I’m at the bottom!”
“No way! How? You’re so nice!”
“Well…” might as well bite the bullet. If she could tell the new kid first before someone else did, maybe she’d have a chance. “I’m sort of…a witch.”
“A witch?”
“Yeah…like…” She snapped her fingers and a small flame ignited on her thumb.
“Wow! That’s so cool! Can you teach me!?”
“Well…I’m not very good. I’m still learning.”
“Aren’t we all? I’m training to be a journalist, but I know I’m not good enough to work for any papers, except maybe the school paper. But I can teach you about inverted pyramids!”
“Sounds like a plan!” Marinette laughed. “But let’s get to class before we’re late on the first day!”
“Awesome! Day one and I already have a new best friend!”
—
Once they reached the classroom, Chloe let out a sigh of relief. She was queen here, and no one would say a thing to Adrien as long as she was around.
“This is your seat, Adrikins!” She gestured to the place right in the front row. “And I sit right behind you, so you can talk to me whenever you need to!”
“Much obliged, Chloe.”
“Oh! You want to see something hilarious?”
“You know I’m always up for a rip roaring good time!”
“Then watch!” She spat out her gum, and then held the wad out to Sabrina, who then placed the gum on the bench adjacent to Adrien. They they both started giggling.
“Why Chloe!” Adrien frowned at his longtime friend. “That’s low down, and dishonest. Why’d you do a thing like that?”
“It had to be done, Adrien. The girl who sits here is a practicing witch. We had to keep her in her place, or she’ll get too cocky and curse us all!”
“One of them spell casters?”
“Yep! A ‘bonafide witch’!” She put it in quotation marks.
“Well, I’ll be.” He knelt, and started to pick at the gum. “I’d think if you’d have a witch in your midst, you’d want to keep her happy, or else she’d hex you in revenge!”
“It was a joke Adrien! She doesn’t know any magic! She just thinks she does!”
“Ahem!” A small voice cleared her throat from behind him.
Adrien turned around to face a girl who was small in frame. She was adorable, with her black hair in pigtails, and a black dress full of a moving galaxy of stars. But her bluebell eyes shined with anger.
Adrien stood and raised the brim of his hat to her. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but this isn’t what it looks like!”
“Yeah right, Clint Eastwood. Dealing with Chloe was hard enough, now I gotta deal with two of you!?”
“It really wasn’t—“
“First you steal my usual seat, and now you had to go and ruin my new one!”
“Please listen…”
“Forget it! Just—sit your chap-less ass over there and leave me alone!”
Adrien did as he was told, sliding into the bench next to another boy. Adrien sighed, resting his head on his hand.
“Tough break,” said the other boy. “What’s with the…get up?”
Adrien flicked his eyes over to his bench mate, a kid with glasses, headphones, and a red cap on. He didn’t have the gumption to reply with his usual vigor. “I’m a cowboy.”
“Oh.” Said the boy. “All the time?”
“Yep.”
“Oh…cool.”
Soon enough, the teacher arrived and called roll. Unfortunately, Adrien was too caught up in his gloom to realize what was happening, and his neighbor had to nudge him when his name was called.
“Pre-sent!” Adrien stood, raising his hand in the air.
The class laughed behind him.
Adrien sat back down, pulling his hat down to hide his face.
“Eager, are we?” Asked the other kid.
“Er, a wee, I reckon. Never been to school before. Never had any friends ‘cept Chloe.”
“Dude, that’s rough. Sounds like you need to make new friends! I’m Nino. Nice to meet you!”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Niño.”
“It’s Nino.”
“That’s what I said.”
Nino quirked his lip. “Dude, if you want to get in good with everyone, I’d make up with Marinette.”
“Who?”
Nino pointed at the girl across the aisle from him.
“The witch?”
“Aw, did Chloe call her that?”
“I mean, isn’t she one? She looks all magical like.”
“I mean…she’s got some slight of hand stuff, and she’s got some pretty good hunches, but I wouldn’t call her a witch.”
Adrien flicked the brim of his hat. “Well, I’ll be.”
“Seriously dude, you always talk like that?”
“Sure! Why wouldn’t I?”
“Are you like, from Texas?”
“No sir, native Parisan, born and raised!”
Nino squinted at him. “Then why…?”
“Just a pure bred Cowboy, don’t matter where you come from. It’s what’s in your heart.”
“Oh, he’s corny too.”
—
After school, Marinette stood at the steps of the school, the rain pattering against the sidewalk in a downpour. True, her house was just around the corner, but it was coming down pretty hard.
“If only I knew weather changing spells.” She lamented.
“You do! You can make it rain!” Said Tikki from her purse.
“Yeah, over someone’s head! But I don’t think that’s going to do us any good here.”
“Don’t look like it’ll let up soon, I s’pose.” Said a man’s voice from behind her.
Marinette hunched her shoulders and turned away from him.
“Aw shucks, I was lookin’ to patch things up, considering I didn’t make a mash with you back there.”
“If you’re here to tease me again, then you can right on your merry way.”
“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Little Lady. I promise, I was trying to take the gum off, not put it on. Chloe was the one responsible for that. I didn’t want to get on your bad side.”
“Why? Because I’m a witch?” She bit.
“Well you are, ain’tcha?”
She turned to face him, her lips thin. “I’m as much of a witch as you are a cowboy.”
He nodded, “That’s what I thought, darlin’. And I only meant I wanted to catch your good side, only on account I got not many friends. Chloe, and now Niño—“
“Nino.”
“That’s what I said.”
She smiled.
“And I don’t like to make enemies. Let’s start again, ah? I’m Adrien, Adrien Agreste.”
“Son of Gabriel Agreste.” She added.
“Ah, so you heard of me? Famously or infamously?”
“Alya mentioned it, actually. I’m a fan of your father’s work, as a designer. I didn’t recognize you from the ads.”
“Reckon you wouldn’t. My old man doesn’t let me wear comfortable clothes on set.” He smirked, “But your name, My Lady?”
“I’m Marinette.”
“Marinette. I like it. Like a doll.”
Now that the miscommunication was over, Marinette started to feel her chest warm at his presence. His manner of speaking made her felt safe. And he sure was cute!
“You know, I was wonderin’. If you’re a witch, why don’tcha got a big ole’ hat?”
“Oh,” she grew slightly solemn. “I did have one. But I lost it last time I went flying.” Then she winced, realizing he might not believe her.
“Flying? Like on a broomstick and everythin’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that sounds mighty nice. Real nice. I wish I could ride a broomstick. I barely get to ride a horse! No where to hitch em in Paris! But a broom, why, you could just stand it up in a corner when you’re done!”
He wasn’t laughing at her. In fact, he looked genuinely interested. “I could take you sometime, out for a flight?”
“Would you? That’d be swell!” He beamed at her, setting her heart fluttering. “Here, since your hat is missing.” He took off his hat and placed it on her head, ever so carefully. “Can’t let you melt in the rain, Miss Witch.”
“Melt? Like the Wicked Witch of the West? Are you calling me wicked?”
“Never dream of it, My Lady! I told you I didn’t want to cross you. I don’t need no hexes. I left all my hexes in Texas.”
The look she gave him at that comment had him bowled over in laughter.
She couldn’t help but join him.
By time they collected themselves, a silver sedan pulled up to the curb. “Well, looks like my hoss is here. Keep the hat, Marinette. I looks mighty nice on you.”
“T-Thanks!” She stuttered.
“See you tomorrow, My Lady!” He called as he ran into the rain.
“T-tomorrow! Yes! I—wow, why am I stuttering?”
“I think I reckon!” Tikki chirped, from her bag.
“Oh shush!”
#miraculous ladybug#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#witch marinette#cowboy adrien#AU#fluff#humor#fanfiction
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In My Veins- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 3
Pairing: Drake x MC; (past) Liam x MC
Written for @badthingshappenbingo
Fandom: Choices (The Royal Heir Book)
Square filled: food/drink tampering
Word count: 2,100
Warnings: deceit, manipulation, threats, evil Liam
Summary: Stress is felt.
A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) In My Veins by Andrew Allen is the song inspiration.
Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.
Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.
“Allen, Rebecca, I wish you’d listen to me.” God I could use a drink. Why did I suggest I not drink in solidarity before we got pregnant. Drake ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
Rebecca’s sapphire eyes flashed with anger. “Listen to you? Like I listened to you when you said we had to name our child Liam’s heir because we owed him? Haven’t you given up enough for him? Done enough for him? Will I or our child be first in your eyes? Or will you always put him first out of some twisted sense of duty?”
“That’s not fair, you and our child will always come first!”
Liam stopped in the doorway. They are fighting already, perfect. Soon she’ll be coming to me for support.
“Really? Were you thinking about us when you agreed without talking to me?”
“We’ve been over this Allen! I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first, I should have.”
“What if he says the baby has to grow up at the palace? Would you just blindly agree?”
“Liam would never ask that. But of course I would say no!”
“Okay.” Rebecca sighed. “You need to stop feeling guilty. You didn’t steal me from him.”
“I know I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m just so frustrated.” She blinked back tears. “I know it takes time, but I don’t understand why it’s not happening.”
Drake took her hands. “It will happen. And when it does you will be an excellent mother.”
“I just wish it would happen already,”
Liam cleared his throat from the doorway, announcing his presence.
Drake and Rebecca turned in surprise. “Hey Li, we weren’t expecting to see you today.” Drake awkwardly greeted Liam with a forced smile as he joined him and Rebecca in the solarium. How much did he hear?
“I was passing by on my way home from business in the neighboring duchy and thought I’d see my favorite couple and see how you are doing.” He looks well, doesn't seem to have lost any weight, no hair loss, maybe I’m not using enough… “I brought you another bottle of your new favorite.” He held up the bottle of whiskey.
“Oh.” Drake swallowed. Crap all his gifts. “I haven’t been drinking.” He grabbed Rebecca’s hand over the table. “In solidarity, since she can’t drink just Incase.”
“As I told you Drake, I don’t care if you have a drink or too.”
Well that explains it. “Well since your wife doesn’t seem to mind, perhaps you can join me in a nightcap? One drink a night never hurt you.” I’ll just have to up the dose.
“He’d love to.” Rebecca vacated her seat, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Night. I love you.” She headed towards the door. “Goodnight Liam, try to convince him to loosen up.”
Liam forced a smile as he felt a tinge in his heart. “I’ll see what I can do. Goodnight Rebecca.” My love, queen of my heart and soon my rightful queen. “So should I pour us one?”
Drake hesitated, watching his wife’s retreating form. I really need one tonight. “You know what, you’re right, what harm will one drink do?”
“Excellent.” Yes drink, be merry, leave me your grieving wife to consol. “So how have you two been doing?” He asked setting down Drake’s whiskey, sitting across from him.
Drake arched his brow. “Since when do you drink scotch neat?”
Liam smiled as he brought the glass to his lips. “I don’t mind it now and then.” And I needed to be able to tell the drinks apart. Wouldn’t want to get the wrong one.
Drake nodded as he sipped his whiskey, relishing in the smooth burn in his throat. “It’s been okay, I just worry the stress is getting to her. She’s so tired and irritable, but every month the test is negative.” He shook his head. “I just feel like we’re letting you down.”
Liam sat his glass on the table. “You’re doing no such thing. Sometimes these things take time. Is the doctor worried?”
“No, not yet. She said the same thing as you.” He nervously ran a hand through his chestnut locks. “I just thought it’d happen by now.”
“It will happen Drake, when it’s meant to.” And it’ll be my rightful heir when it does.
“You’re right Li, thanks. Now enough of the baby stuff.”
*
Liam grinned to himself as he navigated the corridors to his royal chambers. One drink turned into more than half the bottle, for Drake. They don’t suspect a thing. Soon she will know she chose the wrong man. He felt his mind wander, taking him back to the day he first felt his heart crack, when he first realized he would do anything to regain her heart.
“Marry me.” Liam’s words hung heavy in the air, his smile wide with hope and joy.
Rebecca looked down at Liam, blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Liam smiled up at her, moved by her emotions. “I—I think I love someone else.”
Liam’s jaw dropped, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. But what about? The ring slipped from his grasp, falling into the grass. Where did we go wrong? “Who?” His voice cracking as his kingly demeanor slipped.
Rebecca shook her head, her golden blonde hair shimmering like gold in the moonlight, any other time it would feel like a beautiful sign, a good omen. Today it felt like it was a cruel joke played on him by the gods. “It doesn’t matter.”
Liam carefully stood from the grass, his mother’s ring momentarily forgotten. Last time we were here she was talking about love at first sight and soulmates. All that mattered in that moment was what he lost and if there was anything he could do to prevent it. “It must be recent if I’m just hearing about it now.” His voice took on a biting edge. “I just want to know what happened since Paris when we placed our lock on the bridge. Since Shanghai when we went to the pond. I need to know what I did wrong to lose you now when we can finally be together.”
“Liam please. Don’t do this.” Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks.
His mind raced. He needed to know who took her away from him. Who has she been close with? “Maxwell?”
“Liam.” She pleaded.
She’s been close with Hana since the start… “Hana?”
“Liam, please stop.” She sobbed.
Only one name left. Please not him. Anyone but the man I’ve always considered a brother. “Drake?” Her head dropped forward, he felt his heart shatter in his chest. His jaw tensed and his hand curled into a fist. “Does he feel the same?” If he doesn’t we may still have a chance.
“Yes.” Her voice but a whisper, nearly lost in the wind.
Liam nodded, trying to pull himself back together. How could he do this to me? This night was supposed to be one full of joy and somehow it turned to one full of turmoil worse than the night he’d had to choose Madeline. “Did you ever mean it?”
She looked up, tearfilled sapphire blue locking on heartbroken chestnut brown. “Mean what?”
“What you said, that you loved me.” Why can’t I just drop it? Because I need to know. Was she simply playing me for a fool or did she mean it when she said we were fated?
“Of course.” She took a breath. “Maybe part of me still does, but you didn’t choose me when it mattered most.”
Liam looked down, trying to bury his anger and sadness, pulling back on his kingly facade. “Okay.” He nodded. “I would still like to name you Duchess.” Drake doesn’t want this life, he’ll back off. And this way you will see who you’re better suited for. If I keep you close I can regain your love, and once again possess your heart. “I know you would do so much good for the duchy I chose for you.” He paused. Act supportive. “Both you and Drake would both do so much good for them. I would hate for them to lose out simply because you fell out of love with me.”
“Liam...” She sighed shaking her hair, the glittering gold strands flying in the breeze. “I didn’t, you just didn’t fight hard enough for me.”
“Liam.” Her sharp voice cracked through the halls like a whip, breaking him from his thoughts, sending him spiraling back to the present.
“Olivia.” He turned giving her a tired smile. “I didn’t realize you were returning from Lythikos, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Olivia laughed. “Yes well, we need to talk and you’ve been ignoring my messages so I thought I’d come and see you in person.” Her tone tinged with agitation.
“Can it wait until morning?”
“It could, however you’ve worn down my patience.”
Liam sighed, eyes quickly darting in the direction of his royal chambers. “Let’s head to my study.” There’s only one woman I want to invite back there.
Olivia rolled her emerald eyes. “Fine.” Her heels clicked loudly on the polished marble floors, the sharp and shrill sound echoing through the halls of the silent palace.
Liam unlocked the door pushing it open. “After you.”
Olivia entered, crossing the room, taking a seat on the couch. “We need to talk.”
“So you said. What is this about Liv?”
“Sit.” Her tone strong and commanding.
Liam arched his brow, grabbing one of the chairs at his desk flipping it around. He sat with his hands folded in his lap.
“You need an heir.”
Liam chuckled. Where is she going with this? “I already have one, or will soon.” As soon as Rebecca sees she chose the weaker man. “I named Drake and Rebecca’s child, remember?”
“I remember.” She drummed her perfectly manicured French tips on her thigh. “I don’t understand why you put so much pressure on them when you had other options.”
“What options? I’m a single king without any prospects for a queen.” I would have a queen if Drake hadn’t stolen her from me!
Olivia’s features clouded briefly. “Me.” She straightened her back. “I could give you an heir by blood. You know I’d never say no to you.”
“Liv, I appreciate the offer but I won’t have a political marriage.” I didn’t expect you to want one after what your parents did.
“I said give you an heir, not marry me Liam. I’m being pragmatic about it. I know you don’t love me, and I can’t marry until I figure out how to get out of that damn agreement; but you need an heir and I’m willing to help.” She smiled. “Think about it, a child of Rhys and Nevrakis blood, no one would dare cross them.”
Liam fought to keep his kingly stoicism in place as the anger heated in his veins. There is only one woman I want to sire my heir. “You seem to be forgetting about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Legitimacy. A child of my blood would have to be proved legitimate. Since you can’t marry and I have no intentions of a political marriage, any child we would have would be unable to ascend the throne.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Her voice hardened as anger consumed her. “You know that’s an old rule that never gets enforced any longer just like your bullshit ‘I’m allowed to appoint a newborn of noble lineage’ excuse. You and I both know that rule hasn’t been used in over a hundred years and that you could appoint anyone of any age.” She stood up abruptly, in that moment she reminded him of a raging fire ready to engulf anything in its wake. “I don’t know why you insist on following that archaic law, or why you need to have her child as your heir. You are making it impossible to happen, they are under too much pressure and stress. It’s been months.” Any kindness on her face was gone, anger and hate taking its place. “I was simply making a suggestion to make it easier, give you a backup plan as you would.” She stormed to the door, wrenching the door open, the flurry of red silk only reminding him more of flames. “If you didn’t want Nevrakis blood on the throne, there were kinder ways to say it.” The slamming of the door vibrated around the room.
Olivia, please don’t become a problem, I would hate for you to become collateral damage.
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The first arrivals for the coronation are spotted at the docks and the games are begun.
[ Part 1 ]
Miguel had been travelling for awhile - he had just gotten the invitation to the coronation recently - soon after deciding to return to the Forty Isles. So he made his way to the Capitol and sent his fleet on it’s way back home, Miguel kept only two of his crew with him, that was more than enough for him. The over-sized broadsword at his hip and the way his muscles popped when he crossed his arms usually stopped any trouble before it began. That meant that Miguel de la Cardero Reyes Ojeda Lopez was waiting at the docks when his older brother arrived. There was an apple in one hand, and a smile on his face as he joked with his remaining crew and discussed the possibilities of the coronation. For all the world he looked like a silly young man, someone who hadn’t had the time or the capacity to be bitter - not yet. Though his demeanor was light, his eyes were sharp, and as soon as Iann set foot on the docks Miguel grew tense.
His mocking smile faded once his casual survey of the docks made Iann spot his youngest brother. The little two-faced oaf (Blessed Lupita please forgive) was on the bottom of the rock staircase that would lead up into the Capital walls. He looked sweet and jocular and approachable - and Iann knew quite well he was none of these things. He felt a warm surge of pleasure to watch Miguel’s shoulders bunch ever so slightly, when they met eyes. Miguel was subtle, but Iann could handle that at least. He’d been handling it for about 30 years now. He strolled over, wide sweeping steps that forced the fishmongers to go scurrying aside for him. He got closer, giving one of Miguel’s similarly tense men a cheeky wink, as he nipped the apple from his brother’s hand, and bit into it. “I didn’t realize they remembered to give you an invitation. Nor did I realize you would bother to attend, my little brother. The Sea Awaits,” he added, as a belated formal greeting.
Miguel smiled at his brother - he had lost count of how many layers of subterfuge they were playing, how many games they ran at once - and he couldn’t tell if his smile was real or fake. Did he love his brother? Maybe. But did he love other things far more…? “Fortunately, I was within reach of their birds. And on my way back to the Forty Isles, the rest of my fleet has gone on ahead. I can go home with you, right Iann?” He couldn’t very well say no, not when the travelling son wanted to return home. “Good weather for sailing,” he gave the formal response as he smiled up at the warm sun and the few fluffy white clouds. “Good weather for a coronation too!”
The sound of a voice called down from the ship, a woman dressed up in decorative armour standing on the edge. It was clear from the way she was standing that she wasn’t there by her own choice. Nor were the men standing around her entirely friendly. ‘If you insist on bringing me here, I would suggest you get me off of this damned ship,’ Collette called down to the man prancing about and calling himself all sorts of titles. She didn’t care that he was talking to another man. Their titles were pathetic.
Iann instinctively smiled back, then congratulated himself for letting his little brother set the tone. Or did Iann already do that, by taking his apple? It tasted like fish and tar, but Iann ate it anyway. “My flagship is your servant, little brother,” Iann said in an offhand way, although he remembered quite well what happened the last time he let his brother board his flagship. This time, Iann wouldn’t eat any of Miguel’s supposed delicacies, no matter what intriguing foreign land he liberated them from. Before Iann could talk about the coronation though, he heard a call up from the deck of the Freewind Flagship, and his idle smile turned into an amused (if slightly tense) grin. “Ah - come little brother - come meet my prize.” Iann motioned for Miguel to follow, and he eschewed the gangplank his Officer offered to put down for the Lady. “No, no. Put her in the crate casket,” he said, motioning to the pulley. A rope was thrown down to him for the pulley. “Like cargo. White Lady, if you would be so kind as to sit in the casket and I’ll be happy to bring you down to the docks.”
Miguel didn’t have the energy to mourn the loss of his apple. Instead he over thought what its theft could mean. Did Iann trust food from Miguel again, did Iann trust food that Miguel didn’t want to give? It was information that could be useful to him and he filed it away for later review. There wasn’t any poison in store for his brother, not anytime soon. Not of origin from Miguel at least. He had other plans for Iann. “Prize?” One of Miguel’s eyebrows went up and he glanced toward the Freewing Flagship. He heard the woman’s voice but he didn’t see her. “What did you do, Iann?”
Collette’s jaw clenched and she made no movement for the longest moment. She glared daggers at the man even as she relented and sat in the crate like a hound. She swore that any degradation she would face under this man’s thumb would be returned a thousandfold. She hadn’t killed better men just to become an bauble.
Iann looked haughty and stern, losing his cheer for a brief moment as he gazed at Miguel with a somewhat pitying look. “I’m doing what is my right, Miguel,” he stated, soft and calm. The cheer was back when he felt the casket shift under Collette’s weight. “And you know the legend of the White Woman of the North, hm? This lovely thing claims to be her. I found her and she is mine. A good omen, wouldn’t you say?” And a beautiful claim to tout in front of Miguel no less, hopefully give his little brother landlubber legs at the implication of Iann’s gain. “You know what? It is good weather to sail today, you’re right.” He carefully lowered Collette down to the docks, and then extended a hand to help her out of the casket. “My Esteemed Lady, may I present my youngest brother - Miguel de la Cardero Reyes Ojeda Lopez of the Forty Isles.
Miguel’s face tensed for a moment, but then he gave a tight smile to the supposed White Woman of the North. She could be an invaluable piece in the fight against his brother - Miguel had no doubt about the hate in her eyes. Miguel ducked his head in greeting, but made no move to touch her hand in the usual way to greet a woman. "My esteemed lady. Just call me Miguel, I’m at your service. What may I call you?”
She would have been easy to spot once she got deeper into the capital having a small group of followers and escorts. Not that Cassandra felt she needed the protection particularly, but things got a bit more difficult when you brought your toddler to the coronation. But she had her reasons. When she spot sight of the familiar ships Cassandra moved her horse down towards the docks, at first just watching the brothers from behind in quiet. Her expression was placid listening to them and even watching the ‘prize’ that Iann brought down like cargo. Cassandra sighed and shook her head, still atop her horse with Adeline’s pony not far behind, “And so the grand reunion begins.” She called out, “It’s amazing what a coronation can do. Even for the brothers of the Forty Isles.”
Collette ignored the hand of her captor as she climbed from the crate. She didn’t even look at him, her eyes trained on the man he was trying to introduce her to. 'If you’re blood to this fool, then you are likely little different.’ She finally glanced at her captor. 'But if you’re half as skilled, you may call me White. Or War.’ Collette was for friends. And in this place they were few and far between.
Trust Cassandra to bring a horse onto the docks. Iann had seen her out of the corner of his eye (how could he not, sitting on her beast) but waited until she deigned to acknowledge them. In truth, he’d learned to appreciate the Grand Lady of Summerset, and despite her ailing House it was a good match between her and Juan Carlos. Their poor middle brother never wanted to rule or fight or anything other than travel and raise a family. But what lit Iann’s dark eyes up was the sight of the little Princess on her pony. “My Lady,” he said with a flourishing but quick bow to Cassandra, but then he stepped closer to Adeline. “Ahhhh, my beautiful angel. Such good things I’m rewarded with and I’ve only just set foot on land. My beautiful little niece,” he cooed over her. His love for her was as immense as his love for his own children; in fact, there was one moment where Iann had tried to steal her out of Summerset to join his own brood. Cassandra had stopped him then - and that encounter had been a valuable one that made Iann only love Adeline more, and even love Grand Lady Cassandra as well. She knew that her daughter was enchanting. He ignored Collette’s insults - they were normal by now and pedestrian at best - and then made more introductions, glad to hear Collette tear his brother down as much as she tried to do him. “Lady White, this is Queen Cassandra of Summerset, and her little Princess, my niece Adeline. And Miguel’s niece as well, I’m sure.”
Miguel raised his head and nodded at Lady White. “Then I’m pleased to meet you, Lady.” As he brought his head up he saw the small love of his life riding her pony next to her mother. Miguel wanted control of the Forty Isles, that was true. But another truth was that Miguel couldn’t have children in the traditional way. Iann had already sired plenty. But he would pass the Isles to Adeline, or her children - when the time came… if the time came. Miguel nodded to Cassandra. “At your service, sister.” And then his face lit up even more, turning him into a cheerful, jovial uncle. “And hello darling Adeline!” He stood close to his brother, crowding the little princess, fawning over her.
Collette turned to watch the woman on the horse and clasped her hands in front of her. It was alienating to be so far away from the colder places of the North and without a weapon. These people seemed at home here, even if it wasn’t. Collette neither knew nor cared about that. She just wanted to go home, free to fight.
Cassie smiled briefly to her brothers-in-law, lip curling just a bit more as Adeline received the attention she was so used to, but while the brothers cooed over the princess Cassandra looked a bit more intensely at the lady Iann had brought out. Her brow furrowed, and she got off her horse approaching Collette just a few steps closer. The stories of the white woman of the north were not overly common in Summerset, but Cassandra knew of them none the less. She gave a brief nod to the other woman in greeting. If she really was the White Lady, there was something a bit more ethereal to her than any of them. “I don’t know how he managed it.” Cassandra spoke. “But certainly we can do better than a cargo hold.” Her eye narrowed slightly, “Even apparent heirs forget their manners, time to time.”
'Even I can be bested by numbers, it seems.’ Collete glanced at Iann then back at this 'Queen’. 'And I’ve never met a man who remembers his manners.’ Though she seemed stiff to Cassandra, she offered a rare but courteous and restrained smile.
Iann hoisted Adeline off her pony, covering her in soft beardy kisses. “Seeing you makes me miss my own,” he confided fondly at Adeline, who looked nothing like her father, or his own children. He handed the pony’s reins to Miguel to keep the animal calm, as he continued nuzzling the child. And he watched Cassandra and the White Lady make their acquaintance. “She is my guest, but sometimes I like to tease her,” Iann said, smile crinkling his eyes. “She is free to wander where she pleases of course. But Lady White will return to me, once this is all over.” War indeed. War had no place in a city aching for peace. She was uncomfortable, so far away from her cold home. Among people who craved anything other than more battles and bloodshed. If she was who she claimed, she was an intriguing thing, if a little singular-minded.
Miguel fumed a bit at being handed the pony’s reigns. But he could be patient, he would get a chance to snuggle Adeline too. Instead he stepped toward Cassandra, the Lady of Summerset and smiled just as sunnily as her title. “Is there any new of your husband? I would be grateful to hear about my brother…”
“Too true.” Cassandra laughed at Lady White and her comment, she turned slightly watching Iann take the young girl down from her pony, her lips thinning for a brief moment, “I don’t see what you need her for.” Surely, if Iann had been strong enough to overpower her, it’d make the Lady somewhat a moot point. She took in a breath being asked about her husband and returned to the horse waiting patciently behind her. Cassandra pet the beasts nose soothingly and shook her head, “Very little. He does as he likes and this…crusade is something of a pet project.”
Collette remained silent, even as her captor claimed she had some freedom and the woman claimed that she was useless. It prickled under her skin to think that this minor setback was enough to crush the image she had earned for herself. It was insulting that she was defeated but even more insulting that she was no longer considered worth showing off. Turning away from the group, Collette started her way along the docks.
“Ahhhh Juan Carlos and his righteous crusades…” he sighed; and yet he turned a blind eye to the requests that came from Juan Carlos to the Forty Isle Treasury, to fund his soldiers and crusades. What did it matter? It kept their middle brother busy, and Iann and Miguel were both constantly bringing new treasures back to the Forty Isles to keep them well-monied, well-positioned. That was one thing he could credit his youngest brother with at least; the boy had an eye for precious things. Just as he did; and so in response to Cassandra, he tactfully handed the daughter to the Princess’ governess, and then replied simply, “I need precious and rare things, and the Lady White is precious and rare.” He watched her turn and stride away, her head held high. “There she goes. Watch how she strides - proud and beautiful, no?”
Cassie watched as Collette did practically marched away. Cassandra could hardly blame her, but if she was as far away from home as everyone was eluding, Cassandra didn’t know where Lady White could possibly be finding any solace. Still, she decided to follow suit, and stepped back up into her horses saddle, “Well, I’m going back towards the castle. I’ve had enough sea air. You’re welcome to join.”
The colour of Collette’s hair drew people’s attention to her to the point that the fishermen whispered behind their hands. She felt exposed. Battlefields where she was a ghostly flash of blood and silver were one thing. Bustling docks were another. Especially dressed as ostentatiously as she was.
“I shall be along shortly,” Iann announced, glancing at Miguel out of curiosity to see what his brother’s plans were, should he choose to announce them. “I have some business to attend to on the Docks.” He really did mean it, too. The Forty Isles had their businesses forged on all ports and dockyards along the coast of Bluesprings, as well as lands beyond.
Miguel nodded. He had explored the Capitol plenty. And while he loved the salty air, he was ready to explore the castle. “Then I shall accompany our dear sister and niece to the castle.”
Collette glanced over her shoulder at the upperclass group as they split off from each other. Small mercies that her captor hadn’t insisted on dragging her away from the frankly unpleasant and dull docks to be shown off, yet. She returned her attention to some shells and dried seaweed snacks a little girl in rags was trying to sell her. 'I’ll take them all.’ But as she reached for her purse, she remembered that her captor had taken that from her, too. So she unclipped the golden brooch pinning her cloak and offered it to the little girl. 'Take it. Please.’
Prelate Theodore closed his hand over Lady White’s wrist, not threateningly, but to forestall the child eagerly snatching the brooch. “Perhaps some payment that would be of less … foreign currency for the young one,” he said, letting go again. “Please, allow me.” He opened his own purse and pressed three clover-minted coppers into the girl’s grubby hand, her eyes going round as she thrust forward her shells and snacks in return and scampered away calling for her mother in a high, excited voice.
Collette tensed upon feeling someone’s hand enclose around her wrist, half expecting it to be her captor. But when she heard an entirely different voice and accent. She glanced up at the stranger, her jaw flexing. Her swallow was visible. She barely had time to reach out before the basket was shoved into her hand. Tugging away from the stranger, she stepped back and clipped her brooch back on in silence. When she looked back up at him, she flicked her chin up in defiance. 'The brooch is doing nothing of worth. At least the girl would’ve benefited.’
Fane was unaccustomed to the warmth of Kingdoms such as these - sun was an infrequent occurrence for those hailing from lands further North in the realm. Shielding his eyes against the rays he studied the lay of the city limits before glancing at a few of the advisory companions that had joined him on the trip South. There wasn’t much for himself that he’d brought, his were a relatively simple people but there were some goods for trade regardless. “I’ll see you at the Castle nearer the ceremony, don’t concern yourself with my whereabouts before then” with this he stepped onto the plank leading to the docks glad for the welcome feeling of solid ground under his feet and not several tonnes of unstable oak. Warm food and drink would be a welcome relief after the journey.
Prelate Theodore inclined his head, clasping his hands behind his back. The neat, stark lines of his heavy clergical habit in charcoal brocade made him look like a solemn raven, his voice modulated and precise. “The brooch would benefit the charity box of the Cloverry, should you be inclined; in the hands of that child, it would only have drawn the attention of bigger, more predatory eyes.” He regarded Collette for a moment before saying, “Do you hail from the North, Lady? Is it the coronation that has brought you so far from home?” Prelate Theodore accompanied his own questions with a polite introduction. “I’m Theodore Aynesworth, the Prelate of the Cloverry.”
Collette kept her chin up, unwavering under the judgemental gaze of a powerful man. She’d faced powerful men before. 'The North is my home.’ She glanced towards Iann only to find that he’d disappeared into the crowd of fishermen. A small mercy. She then turned back to this 'Theodore’. 'Then take the brooch.’ She slipped it back out of her cloak and thrust it towards him. 'Help the people.’
Fane glanced at the rush of colour and noise around the docks figures of all shapes and sizes busy dealing with several other far more notable arrivals than he. He drifted in the crowd, mindful of his purse attached securely to his belt his free hand resting on the hilt of his blade non-threateningly. Until he noted the familiar garb of one individual in conversation with another young lady. Gravitating towards them he purchased an apple from one of the merchants and approached taking a bite from the ripe fruit as he observed the interaction with the woman curiously.
“Very generous of you, Lady.” The glitter of the brooch disappeared into the dark cavern of his purse, which he snapped closed with a sharp click. “Especially in these times when there’s hardship everywhere.” The Prelate looked over the ships in the harbour, giving Collette space to maintain her dignity; provincials, unaccustomed to the way that the clergy carried themselves, often got defensive and felt they were being judged when they were simply being … observed. The Cloverry valued very highly the qualities of observation and analysis in its order. In looking around, Theodore caught sight of a more familiar Northern face, and his own austere expression creased into a smile. “Lord Savin!” he greeted the war hero. “Here, I have one of your countrywomen at hand. Come, stand next to her and radiate some of that chill in your bones.”
Fane finished chewing a mouthful of apple pulp and swallowing it down before inclining his head out of customary politeness to the two individuals. “Prelate, quite the occasion to bring us all together wouldn’t you say? Who would’ve thought we’d live to see a unification such as this,” his eyes turned then to the women introduced as one of his own though he stepped into the circle. “The North eh? Any region in particular? I may know of it.”
“Praise unto the Whole,” Theodore intoned crisply; despite his devotion to the church, he wasn’t one for long, groaning prayers and invocations. When speaking with Lord Savin, however – a man whose House had been of stalwart support to the Cloverry – a nod towards piety was expected and welcome. “The Highest Raj and the Quiver of Houses will require all of our dedication and commitment. Are you planning any significant time spent in The Capital, eh?” That would mean a sizeable entourage of House Savin. And the Prelate liked to stay informed of any tradewind shifts in the demographics.
Collette watched as the holy man took the brooch without question and wondered about where exactly that wealth would go. Trickle down the lines without ever touching the ground? That was the way she’d heard such men gathered their wealth. She turned to leave, only to be pulled into another meeting with another person. She tipped her chin when the newest stranger addressed her. 'The North. There’s no need to split hairs.’ She didn’t want to address the fact that it was the entire North she’d called her home. Nor did she wish to address who she really was when that meant exposing that she’d been defeated. She reached into her new basket and picked out some seaweed to taste.
“Aye, praise be,” he answered in kind. His House over the generations had members belonging to the Cloverry and Fane himself had a healthy respect for the faith even if he wasn’t particularly so devout himself. The Prelate was a powerful figure in his own right. “That he will,” because how long would a King last without the support of his followers? “But no, I don’t plan to stay for an extended period of time. These climates are far too temperate for me and mine… We’ll likely be burnt to a crisp by morrow,” he smiled in relatively good humour all in all even if it likely would be the truth. “Well the whole North is as good as any, and I suppose you feel similarly? Can’t wait to return to the Northern wilderness eh? M'lady?” He wasn’t sure of her name so he stuck to general titles for the time being.
'I don’t think I’ll be returning to the North anytime soon.’ Collette wanted to, though. With all her heart, she wanted to walk the icy fields again. She wanted to feel the bitter chill against her cheeks. But some men would rather cage beasts then let them wander free. 'But I would hope to,’ she said, offering the Northerner a politer smile than she’d offered the Southerners around here.
Prelate Theodore watched groups of servants make their way from the docks towards the courtyard of Bluesprings Castle, carrying chests emblazoned with House crests. “Looks as though more banners are arriving,” he remarked, flicking a stray twist of jute from his shoulder as some porters went past him bearing roped-up boxes. “It’s not going to be the most lavish of ceremonies considering the coin put aside for restoration and relief, I warn you both – but then again, Northerners never do care for anything too elaborate, do you?” Theodore purchased a gold-striped pear from another child hawking its wares, polishing the fruit against his sleeve. “I’ve heard stories, Fane, that you’ve one cousin who freezes all his wine before serving it at banquets. The way that the North intended, is that the reasoning?” The Prelate smiled at Collette as well to include her in the conversation, but didn’t press any further interaction with her, instead taking a neat bite out of his pear.
Maya counted the boxes again and then a third time. She huffed a sigh. Someone had forgotten to pack the spices. If she was to bake what she had been ordered to they would have to purchase more at the marketplace, which would be expensive. Something was going to get their ass kicked when they returned to Blackspire. For now though the only thing to do was speak to her master about it. When Maya approached he was in conversation with a man and a woman. She curtsied and said, Beg pardon Lord Savin, sir, madame, there’s a bit of a problem with our baggage.“
"No?” Fane studied the young lady with a curious eye wondering why she might not return back to the lands of their people but now wasn’t the time to ask. Perhaps if he ran into her at a later point he would inquire more. “Well, we shall be returning after the festivities and if you are in need of transport there will likely be space - a few of our party wish to remain in the Capitol for a while longer.” An open invitation never hurt he supposed but he’d have to learn more. Fane’s smile grew a little wry at the mention of elaborate festivities, “I know little of the ostentatious ways of life so a simple affair will suit me just fine, but aye, my younger cousin likes to chill his vintages. Though I wouldn’t say it’s the way they intended it, more to contrast the warmth of our food.” Speaking of which one of the kitchen staff that had come with him for the event came up to him, “excuse me a moment Prelate, m'lady…” Turning to step aside for a moment just out of earshot of the former gathering “what appears to be the issue Maya?”
Collette turned away from the strangers and headed towards the stairs towards the larger city but caught herself as her foot touched the bottom step. She glanced around to find her captor. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew his men were following her. No one would let a trophy wander off alone. Not when his brother knew her true nature. Instead, she turned to sit on a small rickety bench beside the only tree and patch of green that lived beside the dock.
“Please, Lord Savin, attend to your business. I’ve matters of my own that require attention.” The young woman who’d come to speak to her master seemed concerned about whatever it was, and by the time the Prelate turned to leave them to talk, Lady White had departed without another word to apparently go sit by herself. He tucked that piece of interaction away, heading from the docks back towards the Castle.
With business finished, Iann strode down the docks to take him back to the stone stairs, leading up to the Capital walls. He noticed Inquisitor Savin, who seemed occupied with his own affairs. There was also a Prelate (the name escaped him; they all looked the same to Iann: boring and austere) who Iann gave a polite nod to in greeting. A glance at one of his men (Knight Harrison was attending to his own squadron on the Freewinds, and would join Iann later) who nodded a chin over to where Lady White was sitting and sulking. “Prelate,” he said, pausing by the Prelate. “She is my guest,” he said, without any finery or preamble. In that decorative finery he’d tricked Collette out in, he knew she stood out, and likely caught the Prelate’s owlish attention, even if it was just briefly. He walked over then, not minding if the Prelate followed or not. “You didn’t get far, my Lady,” he said with a bland congeniality. He offered an arm. “Come, it’s time to see Bluesprings Castle. I know you hate everything that isn’t covered in ice and snow, but the Castle is something of a marvel. It’s stood here for over a thousand years, through all sorts of wars, even the old ones with dragons. Nothing has destroyed it yet.” He looked over at the Prelate in case the owl had something else to add; the Cloverry loved their endless details and dates of history.
Collette only looked up when her captor approached with is undying enthusiasm. It would almost be charming if it weren’t on the face of a viper. She stood, straightening out her decorative outfit. 'I didn’t want your spies to become panicked. We all know what they’d do it they thought they lost me.’ She offered the slightest ground by taking his offered arm and following him. 'Castles are only as good as the men inhabiting them.’
Prelate Theodore kept pace with the Driftwood Heir, giving the man a sidelong look as he claimed responsibility for the Lady White. “Your guest seems discomfited by the warmth of our Capital,” he said, letting Cardero read into that should he desire to. Still, he was headed in the same direction that it seemed Cardero was, and chimed in as if on cue: “–in fact, the cellars and catacombs beneath Bluesprings Castle were built with coldmarble stones from the North, quarried and transported here in Fell Year 64.”
Right on schedule. Iann listened with quiet amusement as the Prelate prattled on as if he simply couldn’t help himself. He was surprised that the White Lady took his arm, but didn’t consider it a win; in fact, he almost hoped it was a strategy. The only thing that had thus far made him doubt the White Lady’s claim as the legendary Woman in White, was that she behaved utterly like a commoner. Brutish and unsubtle, like a hammer rather than a knife. Then again, perhaps that was why the commonfolk’s name for her was The Commoner’s Warrior. “Yes, yes, you are only concerned with honour and integrity, and so on and so forth,” he said to the White Lady, tiring of her proselytizing, as if she were the only one in the world who could ever possibly understand those concepts. For a month now, it was all he ever got from her. “She’s from the North, no House affiliation.” That much was obvious, Iann believed, from the way she spoke and carried herself. “But I do love a good bit of driftwood, as it moves between the currents.”
Collette raised a brow at Iann, a sound of almost maternal or mentorly disapproval leaving her. He seemed not to understand exactly what she embodied. Nor had he seen her in her true glory to judge her so. Her defeat had been the work of men who didn’t know the meaning of honour. 'My Northerness doesn’t affect my appreciation for anything. Nor does it stunt my intellect.’ Her eyes flicked to Fane as if making a point. Everything was a battle but not everything required a strategy.
“Have you been insulted, my Lady?” Iann asked, mild and surprised. “A thousand sugar apologies on a golden plate. Unless of course, you disapprove of such extravagance. You two would like each other, if you actually managed a conversation. Both very attuned to the acetic as the only worthy way of life…” he frowned slightly as he looked down at the Lady’s armour. “Where’s your brooch gone? Did you lose it, my Lady?”
The Northern woman continued to ignore him, cold as her land of origin, but the Prelate hadn’t become one of the highest of his order by being rattled at rudeness. Or judgement. “The Lady has very kindly donated her brooch to the work of the Cloverry,” he interjected at Cardero’s question. “She hasn’t lost it as she navigates the currents, have no fear.”
Collette eyed Iann for a long moment. 'You’ve insulted me by taking me from my home. I doubt anything you could say could insult me anymore.’ She glanced at the Prelate, her fingers ever so slightly tightening around Iann’s arm. 'The clothes you’ve put me in are already worth more than the commoners of this city put together. The brooch will feed a hundred families.’
Prelate Theodore said mildly, “Alas, we in the South haven’t adopted the practice of calculating the worth of our people in clothing and jewels. But your generous gift will be portioned most carefully to those requiring the aid of the Cloverry, and the High Raj.”
“You see?” Iann said, as the Lady once again plunged into another lecture, as if it were all just that simplistic, and she alone had clarity of mind. “She talks of nothing else, just as you do, Prelate. Perhaps she can join your order.” That last bit was entirely a joke, and patted The White Lady’s hand as they reached the city walls. “I’m glad to hear that I can no longer insult you. I suppose the only thing left to do now is praise you.”
'Mercy,’ Collette said, her mouth twisting in a way that could’ve been considered a slowly growing amusement. 'I would die if you praised me.’ She watched the Prelate as he told her the people would benefit from the brooch. Good. She had hoped the real people down in the streets would benefit. 'Perhaps you wouldn’t be trying to defeat your own brother or kidnapping poor defenceless women if you shared my beliefs.’
“I don’t want you to die,” Iann said, in shock that was both surprised by her tease, but also the truth. He wanted to ask if she even could die, but didn’t want to ask that in front of the Prelate. Instead Iann laughed. “Defeat my brother? I’m afraid you misunderstand, dear Lady,” he said, with a nod at the soldiers who opened the doors for him. “What beliefs are those? We have a Prelate here, and he enjoys hearing the ideas of belief. Prelate, if she accidentally blasphemes, take it in the good spirit of the day and don’t throw her in your nunnery.” Iann was joking again, in that last bit. The Cloverry, despite the Forty Isles not being particularly affiliated with it, was certainly not known for its oppression. But to reassure Collette he added, “Unless you’d prefer a nunnery over my company.”
Prelate Theodore hadn’t minded the Driftwood Heir amusing himself by pretending to matchmake the clergyman and the Northern woman – Cardero was known for his puckish sense of humour – but the Lady White’s insistence on believing herself the only person with noble intentions wasn’t quite as entertaining. “I’m certain she would find our nunneries beneath her notice, and most unpalatable to her tastes,” he said, giving the two of them a smooth bow. “Please, if you have any needs prior to the coronation ceremony, don’t hesitate to ask.” And then he diverted down a narrow corridor, heading to a meeting with the Ever Widow. There was much for them to discuss.
Collette made a face when Iann told her that he didn’t want her to die. It was usually the opposite sentiment men she’d faced held. But then again, he was the first to ever succeed in defeating her. 'I’d pity the nunnery that tried to contain me.’ She was about to tell Iann and the Prelate her moralistic and honour bound ideals when Iann was drawn away.
Maya took a step with Lord Savin to the side. She stood with her back completely straight, a habit of her childhood that she had never broken. “It seems the porter forgot to load the spice box. I had intended to check myself the baggage before we left, but I…” she hesitated. It likely didn’t matter to him why she hadn’t double checked the baggage. “I apologize sir. I’m afraid as well that this means I will have to ask for coin to purchase spices at the market here.”
Fane didn’t particularly mind being pulled away from some conversations if the importance was great enough. He frowned upon hearing the dilemma at hand, brow creasing as he exhaled. “Well, I would have thought we’d be here a little longer before I was parting with my coin, what spices do you need? And how much do you think you’ll need for them? Perhaps we can see if an arrangement can be made with a few of the nobles in town, they’ve likely all brought some of their own wares to trade while they’re here.”
“Ginger, nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon,” Maya replied. At the idea of making some arrangement with other nobles she shook her head before she could think better of it. Quickly she added, “I’m likely to get a better price and with fewer strings attached if I simply go to the market. I shouldn’t need more than seven and even then I expect to bring you change.”
Fane hummed under his breath but really these were antics he didn’t typically involve himself with. “If you’re sure,” Maya had been in his employ long enough for that he trusted her enough for such trips. Though where he might have typically told her to take the spare the blunder made him a touch less forgiving. “Very well, I’ll give you eight and bring me the change back when you have what you need,” taking his coin purse he counted out the necessary coin and held it for her to take. “I’ll walk with you some of the way. I need to familiarise myself with the city once more…”
Maya nodded. She was certain. While from what she had seen of Lord Savin he didn’t often play the game of politics. The unfortunate thing about that game though was that people didn’t always ask if you wanted to play. This was especially true at an event such as a coronation. It was better for her to simply go down to the market and avoid any potential strings that might come with an arrangement with another noble. “Thank you sir, ” she said with a dip of her head rather than a full curtsy as she took the coin. Her brows furrowed when he suggested they walk together. “You wish to walk with me sir?” she asked. Despite her months in his employ she did not know him well. Like most nobles he didn’t fraternise much with the servants. She worried a little, what he might be implying by his willingness to walk with her seemingly as an equal.
Fane was more or less correct in her measure. Navigating the murky politically tension fraught waters of the Capitol wasn’t wasn’t one of his favourite pastimes. And while Fane didn’t spend much time with the staff, he did make a relatively concerted effort to know those who worked or served him in some capacity. It wouldn’t do to completely ignore their existence considering the well-being of his house was founded on the well-being of the people that served it. So as she questioned what he said he looked at her strangely, “no need to look so shocked lass, we’re headed in the same direction,” he said by way of explanation with a nod to the main road leading up from the docks. “I assure you, I don’t plan to lurk like your shadow, I merely thought it made sense since we were both headed the same direction…”
Maya did fully curtsy this time. “I apologize again sir. This may be forward of me, but I have served for lords who had no interest in getting to know their servants in any capacity,” she explained before muttering to herself, “And some who took too much interest in it.” She began to walk in the direction of the market. While she was curious about the lord, she knew better than to ask questions. For one it was not her place as a kitchen girl, even one close to becoming the head of his kitchen. For another she might reveal too much in the questions she asked and force herself out of job and home yet again.
Fane waved a little in a fashion to say the repetitive curtsying wasn’t overly necessary nor was he particularly fussy about such matters. “No need,” as always when he spoke it was calm and to the point though he did grimace a little at her mention of Lords being too interested in getting familiar. “I have no doubt you’ve had bad… experiences… But you have no cause for concern on that front, not under my employ…” His slightly sombre expression eased a little into something that for a Northerner could almost be described as being friendly, if not that, kind at least. “I take the stance that if the people of my House know me and mine, it’s only fair I know them and theirs in turn… It’s a lot of people, aye, but it makes for an honest and happier home in my opinion and that’s all I seek in this world.”
Maya made a mental note that he did not stand on ceremony as much as other Lords she had worked for. In her mind, that was more dangerous. It made it easier for her to slip. There were still more than few lessons from her short lived childhood that tended to expose her. She noted too his grimace at her mutter about lords as well. In truth, they had more to worry from her than her from them, but she made no mention of that. “A honest and happy home?” Maya asked instead, “Is that all you desire milord?” Despite his earlier wave off of her curtesy she went with the formal title considering her impertinent question.
Fane let his attention wander a little as they departed from the waterfront and started towards the city gates. The city hadn’t changed overmuch since the last time he was here but it was best to re-familiarise himself with the layout regardless. Despite the royal affairs there was still more than one sign of the hardships the city’s inhabitants had been through. He was brought back from his observations by Maya’s question, “aye, I’m not for the complexities of the Capitol.” He was simple in that regard, some might call him dim or lacking in ambition but in his eyes he had all he needed to get by already.
Maya considered his answer for a moment. She considered too her motto, not the one emblazoned on her family crest but rather the one she had personally adopted years ago. There was no peace in power. “But are the complexities of the Capitol for you?” she asked, switching the subject and object of the sentence.
Fane considered Maya’s turnabout question. “Wouldn’t you say that’s the same question just turned about though? So surely the answer would be the same…” Perhaps it would be, perhaps not he couldn’t rightly say. “You’re rather quick aren’t you?” he’d known quite a few members of his household and while they were all skilled in their own way there was something different about Maya. He just couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.
Faye had received the summons to the coronation just as every other House had. The raven that had brought it to her hadn’t lingered. The missive had been dropped into her tower unceremoniously after the flapping monstrosity had shit on her floor, cawed at her, and then left without so much as a by your leave. She nearly tossed it into the fire. What care did she have for what went on in the capitol? They cared little for what happened in the marshes. Besides, the last time her family had decided to show their faces, they lost their lives for. Her mother, grandmothers, aunts. All swept up in the fervor of rage and violence that had been sweeping the land for ages. Burned after being captured in battle for their supposed dalliance with otherwordly forces. Which wasn’t the truth at all. Her family were healers. Always had been. And people still came. Rarely these days. But enough that Faye could still get news from town. Most often she didn’t like what she heard. But now, in the end, Faye had decided to go. Who would recognize her anyway? Her only distinguishing feature was the color of her eyes. Otherwise she wore black on black, with a fur-lined traveling cloak, a small, silver circlet around her brow, and a long dagger at her belt. Her horse was sturdy and a deep, dapple grey. A fine animal, he was eager for the trip to town, unlike his mistress. Faye made her way along the marshland paths until she came to the outskirts of the city. Pulling her mount to a halt, she hesitated only a few moments before spurring him onwards towards the capitol.
Maya shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t consider it the same question,” she said, “You may have little interest in the machinations of power, but that doesn’t mean other people don’t see you as threat to theirs. No one ever asks if you want power. They just assume you do.” She immediately that she had said too much. Servants didn’t know about this sort of thing. She might still be able to explain it away though. “I don’t know about quick sir, but it has been said that I may be too clever for my own good,” she replied and adding a shrug said, “But I always figured that was because I was better at haggling.”
Fane looked at the kitchen girl long and hard, far too smart on such matters to have an honest opinion about them and her choice of words? “Machinations 'eh? I’d say you use fancier words than I do. But you’re right, they don’t… Which is all the more reason for us to see this ceremonial business tended to and return back so we needn’t concern ourselves with such plots and conspiracies.” Fane’s lips curled a little as they walked along the road, “hm, perhaps so.”
Maya swore internally. She really should be better about this. “I’ll admit, sir,” she tried to explain, “I heard the last Lord I worked for say it and thought it might make me sound clever.” With a nod, she added, “But I agree, the less time spent in the Capitol perhaps the better. If you have much use for my opinion sir.”
Faye cantered her horse up the road and around the bend, slowing when she saw two travelers on foot. She didn’t recognize them, though she hardly knew anyone anymore. Faye almost stopped to speak to them, but they were deep in conversation. So she merely took her horse in a wide berth around them, nodding a small greeting as she passed.
Fane wasn’t entirely convinced by Maya’s excuses, but if she felt inclined to make them then so be it. “You thought right in that instance,” he agreed deciding that perhaps it was best to go along with whatever she was up to for the time being. “I don’t plan to be here any longer than I have to… of that I’m certain,” the sound of hoof beats drew his attention and he looked up towards a mounted traveller passing by who seemed to take time enough to nod in greeting. Fane found himself watching her curiously and returning the small dip of his head.
After a while, Iann left the White Lady to her own devices. Showing her as a prize had quickly turned sour, as she herself was not particularly lending herself as a trophy, despite her catching beauty and the decorative armour he’d put her in. He had to rethink his strategy, and there was nothing more that helped Iann centre his thoughts than taking a stroll through a busy port city. Port cities were the most cosmopolitan, the most busy and alive with energy from across so many lands. He was a Prince, but it felt nice to be anonymous for a bit, even here in the Capital on this auspicious trip. It felt familiar - and the Capital was larger than most cities in the world-yet-known. “Inquis–” Iann called out when he spotted Savin (the man was tall enough and towered over most) but he was interrupted when he almost walked into a horse curving his way. Or perhaps the horse almost walked into him. “Whoa -” Iann said, reaching out sharply to catch the horse’s bridle and bring it to a sudden pause. “Careful, now.”
Fane hadn’t been anticipating the sudden change of events, he’d heard someone call his title only to see the woman on the horse almost careen straight into the man Fane recognised a moment later. “By the Gods,” he muttered under his breath telling Maya to go on to the marketplace and get what she needed and to find him later. Checking the street was otherwise clear, it was, he hurried over towards the scene of the commotion scanning Iann first and then the woman on the horse and then back to Iann where he held the horse by its reins “are you hurt?”
“I am alive and well,” Iann replied, making quick tutting noises at the horse. The thing about being out in public in the Upper City was that they were mostly left to their own devices among the wealthy merchants and artisans. A lot of bowing and respectful greetings as people hurried on their way. But at the same time, Iann always knew these people were on the lookout for drama as well. Even in the waning of the long war, people still felt an anxiety about their lives and livelihood. And the only way they could expend that energy was by watching Nobles fighting duels, arguing in the streets, clashing their swords, trodding over each other with horses, and so forth. Excitement, once removed, with beautiful Lords and Ladies. The war was certainly painful, but it also provided so much conversation among the commonfolk; and the drama of the nobility was often a good a distraction from the pain of their own humdrum lives. So Iann knew people were watching both warily and almost eagerly, hoping for no altercation, yet also hoping for an altercation to talk about tonight over their suppers. He wasn’t in the mood to humour the people, not today and not with the Inquisitor. So Iann smiled widely, and looked Savin square in the eye. “It’s good to see you again, old friend. And I do mean old,” he said, joshing Fane even thought he knew Fane was hardly bothered by his age. In one way, Iann envied him that legendary long life. In one way. “This horse and her rider only nudged me.” He spoke casually, but he didn’t let go of the animal’s bridle just yet.
“Is this the point I’m expected to attempt to say that’s a relief in a believable fashion?” where his expression around less familiar faces was more stoic here it was a touch more animated, humorous in his commentary of the Crowned prince almost being laid flat on his backside. Perhaps another Lord would have bowed or genuflected but Iann was something of a wayward friend of the Savins so Fane felt less compulsion to show the typical and customarily expected posturing most nobles went through the stages of showing. Plus, considering how many of the man’s bastards were around the city of Mistveil Fane figured he had some right to addressing the man in such a fashion. “And there’s the expected retaliation,” he chuckled moving to grasp Iann’s forearm while patting him on the shoulder with his other hand. “Not old enough just yet to almost be sat flat on my ass in public at least. Now that would be an entertaining tale over dinner.”
Faye’s horse jerked it’s head and snorted as someone caught hold of his bridle. He danced sideways, shaking his head to try and unhook whatever creature had latched onto him. Faye took him in hand, frowning down at the man holding her mount’s reins. “I’d let go of him if you wish to keep your hand. He doesn’t care for strangers.” She looked over as the tall man who’d she’d passed a moment before came over. “No, m'Lord.” Faye tipped an eyebrow at the exchange between the two mean, already regretting her decision to travel here from the marshes. “His,” Faye corrected the man holding her stallion’s bridle.
Fane let his attention go to the woman on the horse, who he now could look at a little more closely. She wore no visible sigil or crest denoting any particular house or affiliation in particular, curious. Fane made it his business to know the houses of most lords and ladies and considering the circlet she wore she was clearly of descent from some house in particular. But what caught his attention most of all was the colour of her eyes. Something that had him tilting his head just a fraction as he peered up at her. “Glad no harm came to you m'lady. Though it’s a shame you didn’t sit him down in that puddle over there… now, that I will admit would have given me a laugh.”
Iann was about to laugh, enjoying Fane’s idea of banter. The man was hardly theatrical about it, but it was there if one chose ti to be there. Iann always liked that Savin gave people the option to see humour in his words, or not. Their choice - granted Fane’s nature, status, and height also tended to clout people’s choices. He said nothing as Fane mocked him openly to the strange woman, and her not-so-veiled threat to him, as she then demurred to Fane in the same breath. Interesting. Iann released her horse, and took a step back, his eyes watching Fane carefully, as he did.
Danny rushed after Iann, having become distracted by some of the rumble. He had been here after all, when the fighting was at it’s worst. Still it didn’t excuse abandoning his post. Armour making loud metallic sounds as he moved he eventually caught up, breath heavy as he stopped. “Apologises, my lord.” He looked over the scene, unsure of what he had missed.
“Not to worry, Ser Harrison,” Iann replied, not looking at his Knight; he could hear the man coming from a mile away. He bowed to the stranger woman and gave the Inquisitor a polite nod, then turned to address his Knight. “Have your men been successfully dispatched?” he asked, referring to the Naval Knights who Harrison commandeered on Iann’s Flagship.
Faye pointedly moved her horse to the side as he was released. “Thank you, m'lord,” she nodded curtly to Iann. She was out of practice with the formalities, and even more out of practice with being looked at as if she were not some frightening oddity.
Fane had sense enough to know where the limits of a situation typically lay. He might not have a mind for the scheming that went on behind closed doors but he had a good approximation of how to diffuse or in certain situations escalate things as and when he wanted to. Fane’s humour in this case was mostly an attempt to balm this woman’s apparent prickly nature. Mostly because she was mounted and Fane would rather not have himself or Iann trodden on. It would be an awful political mess to sort out to explain how the prince had ended up trampled on his watch. As one of Iann’s knights arrived Fane looked over to him curiously wondering how he hadn’t yet boiled alive in his plate. Though as the woman addressed Iann as m'lord he almost snorted instead saying quietly, “your royal highness.”
Danny observed the woman, bowing as Iann did, his head coming far lower however since it was of his station to do so. “Yes, My Lord,” Danny nodded gently, his breath catching quickly, he’d been in far more dire situations in his attire. Running beneath the sun was only temporarily exhausting. “They’re moving as we speak.”
Iann overheard the strange woman’s words and then Savin’s quiet correction, but didn’t acknowledge it. The last thing he had any interest in was incurring anyone’s threats, or Savin’s insults. He shook his head at Danny. “You’re so red,” he commented, pitying the pale-skinned man for his ability to burn. It reminded Iann of Savin himself, when he’d visited the Forty Isles. The first and last time the poor Iniquisitor had done so, despising the heat and appalled by the sun. “Very good, Ser. And please, change into your formalwear,” he said. He’d asked Danny to do so before, but the Knight was so intent on guarding and protecting, he insisted on being in his full plate armour. He really did look magnificent though, large and gleaming in the sun. And that unfortunate plum-red face. “Or at least keep your visor down.”
Faye glanced at the taller man as he made a sound that sounded like he was choking. She even opened her mouth to ask him if he was alright when the words 'your royal highness’ hit her ears. Faye blinked, then frowned. She looked at the man who’d snagged her horse, then at the panting knight next to him. Ah. Faye cleared her throat. Well, if there wasn’t a better way to thoroughly fuck herself before she even got into the capitol, she had no idea what it was. “Apologies, Your Highness.” Faye dipped her head in a more appropriate greeting. “It’s been some time since Ive left home. I didn’t recognize you.”
Danny’s skin burnt with ease but he was use to it, he had stood where they were now a burnt to the point of his lips so dry they cracked open and bled. This felt like little to the man and so he did as Iann’s second suggestion requested. “Of course, My Lord,” he agreed and placed his visor down so that the man did not have to look upon his burning face. Unfazed by this request he stood diligently behind his master as he recieved another apology. Clearly he was widely respected.
Fane observed Iann’s interaction with his knight both admiring and certainly not envying the man’s present choice of attire. Broad chest and barrel armed he was clearly a stalwart fighter. But his attention was far more taken by the woman mistakenly addressing Iann as m'lord. Raised a hand he rubbed a hand over his chin, “and where would home be for you m'lady? I don’t think we caught your name…”
Iann turned slightly, surprised by the woman’s need to apologize. He’d held her horse to prevent it from careening into him further and he’d only received unadulterated hostility in return. He regarded her calmly for a moment before asking, “And why should you recognize me?” He was about to ask where home was, but Fane beat him to it, which was perfectly fine. She certainly seemed more inclined towards the tall Inquisitor anyway. She wore no symbols of identification on her black on black wear, nothing to identify her for any particular House. The circlet, however… Iann’s eyes widened slightly and his breath caught, but he didn’t say anything, curious to hear how she would answer. If she chose to answer at all.
“That’s because I haven’t given it,” Faye said evenly to Fane. “Nor have you asked for it.” Her violet eyes slid to the prince. “One should always recognize nobility.” Feeling slightly put upon, Faye was uncertain how she would be received. But not answering a direct question might raise suspicions where none seemed to exist. “The Wildwood Marsh, m'lord.”
Miguel had accompanied Adeline and Cassandra to the castle. He saw them settled, settled himself, and changed into a more rugged outfit. It made him look like an upper class mercenary - someone who could walk freely between the different tiers of the city and be unbothered by most people. His broadsword ever strapped to his hip. He walked alone, without the two members of his crew, he had temporarily added them to the guards and servants of Summerset - to better take care of Adeline. It was easier for him to defend himself after all. He continued his exploration of the Capitol and kept his eyes out for his brother. Eventually he stumbled across him - along with a few other familiar faces. One an incredibly surprising face. That of the enigmatic and sightly eccentric Faye Lacroy.
"Good man,” Iann murmured to Harrison, when he heard the visor clinking down. It would be better that, then the Knight jogging all the way back down to the Waytried Docks to change on the ship. He could do so later. In the meantime, he could sweat in his armour, as was befitting a Knight’s role. Still, Iann was silently pleased by the near bull-headed determination of Harrison, ever since he’d sworn fealty to the Forty Isles. Iann had yet to determine if he was of any long term value, but thus far Harrison was at least true to his Knighthood. And when the woman announced that she’d come from the Wildwood Marsh, Iann was tempted to look over at Fane at that moment. However, he wasn’t sure if Fane would look back at him. The Wildwood Marsh, though. That could only mean one thing, although Iann had yet to see those legendary purple eyes. So instead, Iann spoke very carefully. “If you please, my lady, entering the Core City on horseback is reserved for Knights and soldiers. We tend to walk there, or if you prefer a palanquin, I can summon one for you.”
Fane paused when the woman spoke of her home, and while there was no major change in his outward demeanour there was perhaps a tad more curiosity with which he regarded her. Of course he’d heard the tales, never believed them entirely but considering the battles he’d fought in the past you could never entirely discredit legend. But every legend began and ended in fiction, until you met the true source of such stories and here was the well of many a haunted tale. “The Prince is right…” he sounded a touch apologetic, “we were on our way towards the upper Keep if you were headed there. Perhaps your mount could be stabled and tended to while you are here in the city?”
Faye took a moment to judge the requests of the prince, just as she took a moment to judge the looks she received from both him and the other man as they recognized her it seemed. “Yes. I think that would be favorable. I am certainly no knight.” As the Inquisitor spoke Faye nodded, “it appears I am, if you’d point me towards the stables, I can see to my horse.”
Iann saw his brother - or more specifically he caught the look on Miguel’s face when he saw the strange woman on her horse. It was a look of plain, raw recognition and Iann then took a further step back from the woman and her horse, suspecting that the more people who’s attention she caught, the more inclined she’d be to flee. Which was the last thing Iann wanted, of course. “Inquisitor, she favours you, and this lowly Prince - and his illustrious ass that you waxed so kindly over - is only in her way. Please,” he bowed to them both, with a flourish of his hand to allow them to pass. Then he knocked on Harrison’s armour and was sure to proceed behind the woman and her horse and Savin as well, as he crossed the yard towards his little brother. “Yes, I know who that is. And yes, that is she.” He frowned, and looked down at his shorter brother. “Tell me a truth, Miguel - have you met her before?”
Danny stayed the farthest back from the group, so far as he could tell they were all men of means and had made the woman their companion so he was by no means inclined to interrupt there conversation with any words of his own. He would remain steady, watching for what was around them to make sure Iann was safe.
Miguel smiled at his brother. “I always speak the truth to my esteemed brother.” And it was true, in his own way. Miguel had never told Iann an outright lie, Iann so seldom asked the right questions. “Truly, I have met her.”
Cassie When Cassandra had finally made it to the castle she had to spend a little while settling into her the chambers allotted for her and her daughter. She was eager to see the rest of the castle, it’d been ages since she made it to the capitol after all, and more and more people were arriving. The toddler loathed to let her mother go, but after changing out of her riding gear Cassandra left the rooms and followed the noise of footseps and conversation. She had to pick up her pace slightly to meet the cluster of people outside, glad to see Iann, Miguel again. But she caught up to Danny first since he hung back slightly – “You think they could have decorated a bit more huh?” She muttered with a smirk, “The trip wasn’t too taxing”.
Putting his arm around Miguel’s broad rounded shoulders, Iann steered him towards the Keep within the Core City. The keep was close to the Bluespring Castle, but not close enough that it didn’t have its own fine selection of taverns. “Come, you must tell me everything,” he said, and then looked at Harrison. “Ser Harrison, please keep us company,” he said, as if Danny had any other place to go. Almost as soon as they started walking again, Cassandra appeared to make her usual arch comment on something she saw to criticize about the Forty Isles way. As he opened his mouth to gently retort (gently, because they were siblings by marriage, and he meant her no ill-will), but even as he did, someone ran by and bodily picked up Cassandra, whisking her down the street towards the Lower City. “Ser Daniel!” he yelled, breaking into a run to follow the kidnapper before they reached the infernal rat-maze that was the Lower City.
Danny looked up to where Iann was, making sure his lord was not looking back before he lifted his visor to take Cassandra in. He had spent most of the trip over looking at her when he was not actively doing his duties as commander of Iann’s navy. Those moments were few and far between but had distracted him greatly. “Not quite enough for the travel required to come?” he asked her. His pace picked up so himself and Cassie had joined Iann and his brother, feeling unsteady about the request, but that unease was replace with genuine fear as someone grabbed Cassandra from beside him, taking her off towards the lower city. He did not need Iann to say anything, responding on instinct he chased after her, the exhausted running from before not at all like the adrenaline rush he had now, his feet coming down firm onto the stone path, his stride strong. Catching up was no challenging but stopping them while they held Cassie was, not wanting to injure her in the process. So rather than remove his sword Danny removed his helmet, hitting the man over the head with the strong golden metal.
Iann caught up soon after - his keen, angry eyes spotted two people watching who turned to run, as Daniel’s helmet cracked the kidnapper’s head with a loud SNAP. The two who ran were clearly the kidnapper’s compatriots, and Iann pulled out two knives from his sleeve, throwing them towards the men. One hit a man in the back, the other glanced off a building just as the man slipped around a corner, likely clambering over a wall to get into the Lower City. “Curses,” he breathed, then turned to pull Cassandra out o the fallen man’s grasp. He didn’t hold her for long though, knowing by now that Cassandra was perfectly capable of standing on her own. “Don’t kill him yet,” he said to both Cassandra and Knight Harrison. “Who are you?” Iann demanded of the kidnapper, hauling him by the collar and giving him a shake.
Danny had not intended upon killing him but stayed silent about this, turning to Cassandra instead, looking to her to see if she was alright, or if she was perhaps in shock from the sudden taking and releasing that had happened.
Miguel was about to say something to Iann when the excitement bubbled up and he sprinted after Cassie and the kidnapper on instinct. Iann’s dependable knight was quicker though. And then Iann took over the interrogation. So Miguel paid attention to his sister, he lightly touched her hands and pat her arm. “Are you alright, sister? Nothing hurt, I hope.”
Cassie was about to respond to Danny when she felt the arms grasp and yank at her from behind. She gasped loudly, quickly escalating into kicks and screams as her assailant attempted to whisk her away. They didn’t get much of a chance though, and Cassandra was thankful for not only Knight Harrison, but her brothers in law that followed. Her heart was racing as she was placed back steadily on her feet, curls tumbled and out of place from the capture. She breathed, staring daggers down at the thief, “I’m fine.” Cassandra spoke coolly. “I just forgot about Capitol life, is all.”
“This has happened to you before, Milady?” Danny said, the formal addressing of her strange on his tongue. He had rarely been around female royalty, it had just never come up before and Danny would not have been shocked if he’d been using it incorrectly this whole time but Cassandra had politely allowed him to be.
“Ser Knight, go make sure that other man is dead,” Iann instructed Harrison to inspect the man who Iann had thrown a dagger at. He glanced at Miguel, who was hovering close to Cassie, as was Harrison. The kidnapper who Iann held managed to cram something into his mouth, and then he began to froth. “What is this - Miguel - ” Iann beckoned his brother, because his bother was more familiar with poisons than he was. “Miguel!” But it was too late, the man was near death. Before he died, he yelled, “FOR HOUSE KESLEY!!” And then he died. Iann stared at the dead man in his hands, knowing House Kesley was an old rival of Summerset. A minor house, but an old one. Iann seethed, and sneered. “House Kesley. I will kill them all. We shall lay waste to their lands.”
Danny nodded to Lord Cardero and moved over to the man he had thrown his dagger at, he was not quite dead but as Danny leaned down and pulled his master’s dagger out his lungs quickly flooded with blood and he died. “He is dead, Milord, I doubt House Kesley got as much as they intended out of this.”
“A long time ago.” Cassandra answered quickly, trying to look closer at the man who had grabbed her. He didn’t look familiar, and she was slightly comforted to know that perhaps, she was not grabbed for being recognizable as well. But then it was clear, this was some sort of retaliation, and her blue eyes darkened slightly. “Not to bright on House Kesley to do this at coronation.” Cassie stiffened, she’d raise hell with complaints if she had to.
Miguel’s eyes narrowed and he crouched by the remains of the would be kidnapper, apparently allied with House Kesley - but why would he yell that if the mission was a failure? It didn’t bring any honor to the house. He stuck one finger in the froth and took a demure sniff. “Mmm,” he glanced up at Iann from where he was crouched. “Not so quickly, brother. There are certain doubts I have. Why would he proudly name his house at a failed mission? As Cassandra says, why at the coronation? If I had to guess, I would say someone was trying to cause trouble today. So close to unification.”
“Thank you, Ser Daniel,” he said, then looked at the knight. “Your quick-thinking has kept the Grand Lady safe,” he proclaimed. It wasn’t necessary to explicitly say that Daniel had performed well - the fact that the Grand Lady was safe, made this point clear enough. Onlookers gawped in fascination, and this time Iann let them enjoy the 'show’. He was angry - livid in fact, at the audacity of his kidnapper. To the point that he wasn’t seeing straight, he was only wishing for revenge. Until of course both Cassandra and then Miguel offered insight that pulled logic over Iann’s rage, like a soft wet sea blanket. Iann looked from Cassandra to Miguel, then back at the dead man. “Of course. Of course, you’re right. So close to unification…” his mouth twisted in a different sort of anger. “House Kesley might try to kidnap Cassandra for some petty ransom, but they would never do something as treasonous as splintering the Quiver at a coronation. Hm.” He thinned his eyes. “How much trouble do they intend to cause, I now wonder.”
Danny only saw the pure leadership that came from his lord, each one of them deciphering what had occurred. This was not something Danny could understand, only capable of brute force and battle strategy. Things like kidnapping were beyond him. “I am glad you did not have to suffer than again,” he said to Cassie.
“Why not spoil the coronation?” Cassandra posed the question. “It’s not as if everyone supports the appointed Raj.” This she had no fear in saying, because what had just happened was clear proof. “People will always favor one house over the other. But I say we let those back at the castle know of the riff raff. As soon as possible.” She crossed her arms, and not because she was overly concerned for the other nobility visiting the castle, but because it was clear to her at least, whoever was prepped for the throne didn’t know how to properly scout their city. She didn’t say this though, and only nodded lightly in thanks to Ser Daniel. For once, she wanted the surprised stares away from her.
Miguel thought abut that for a moment, with pursed lips. Cassandra’s assessment was fair, and her plan was sound. He nodded. He wanted to explore the Capitol some more, but if Cassandra was going back to the castle he would accompany her. “Right, whomever is in charge of such things needs to know.”
“I will feel much better having you in the Keep,” Iann said to Cassandra, and gave her an apologetic look for saying it, in case she rolled her eyes. But she had just been kidnapped, after all. “Let’s go quickly. Ser Daniel, if you would be so kind as to lead the way - with your sword.” The knight could keep his sword drawn for as far as it took to get to the Core City, at least. And it should be enough warning, as well as Miguel’s muscles and both Iann and Cassandra’s respective glowers.
Danny drew his sword as requested of him. These seemed like such extreme measures for an event that was meant to be filled with joy and community and Danny’s heart fell at the prospect of all of this not doing as well as people had hoped. The war had been devastating, returning to that would only hurt people. Still, if it was for Cassie’s protection, then he would not object, leading their was back to the core of the city.
Cassie harrumphed at Iann’s comment and tilted her head towards him, “Yes well you see, that’s where I was headed originally when he just came out of no where and grabbed me.” Cassandra sighed as Danny did what Iann requested, she too thinking it was a little over the top. At least in front of the commoners. There was no need to strike fear into their hearts as of yet. “I really am fine. I should have been watching.” She upturned her palms, “I’m not used to the crowding. But I hope you know,” Cassie arched her brow, “I’m not going to be locked away in some tower.”
Ciara sat sitting in the courtyard with a couple other Ladies, working neatly on stitchwork and chatting idly as they worked. Around them, servants bustled, moving furnishing and barrels, but always giving the ladies space for their work and their privacy. There were mice who knew themselves to be , and those that didn’t - these lovely specimens of the gentry were just that, oblivious to the careful craft of her questions and answers. But a small gesture from one of the maids had her looking up, towards the front gates of the courtyard. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” she said, and when they demurred, she walked over to the source of interest, as Lord Iann, Miguel, and Grand Lady Cassandra arrived just beyond the castle gates, with a knight armed. “It seems the day has hardly started and you’ve had some adventure.”
Miguel stuck close to the group as they made their way back to the castle gates. His hands were twitchy and knees stayed bent. No one would be catching him off guard again that day. “Perhaps a bit too much excitement…” he looked to his companions, his brother and Lady Cassandra. They could explain what happened. Cassandra, and unfortunately Iann, knew him well enough to know that his air of jovial buffoonery was a ruse. But Lady Florent didn’t need to know that.
“These aren’t my towers,” Iann said blithely glancing upwards at the thick, austere towers of Bluesprings Castle that only peeked over the Core City walls. He offered a brief, grim smile at Cassandra. “My towers on the Forty Isles are actually fit for a Queen.” As they crossed the gates and entered the calmer, quieter (but still busy) courtyards of the Keep, Iann exhaled and relaxed. Somewhat. He nodded at Daniel, who could sheathe his sword now. And the moment he turned to the left, the Burned Lady herself was suddenly upon them. Iann smiled immediately, and bowed. “Lady Ciara, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She wasn’t really; Iann could never keep his eyes off the scars marring her face, tracing down her jaw and under the cloth of her dress. He didn’t look at them due to rudeness or even curiosity, but just an acknowledgement of their existence. Why not see it for what it was? They made her so unattractive, and yet so compelling at the same time. “So you’ve heard what happened in the Inner City. News travels fast. My dear innocent sister-in-marriage here, part of some…yet-undetermined elaborate captivity plot? Here in the Capital?” He huffed in slight frustration. “This displeases me,” he stated, with a sense of expectation.
Cassie laughed, “A captivity plot. Imagine that.” Cassie smoothed her dress, “That’s only for individuals who pose a threat.” She laughed again, because at first glance it really was a hysterical idea. “But it was someone from House Kesley. You may want to look into them.” She advised bitterly. “And if you find or know any other information, do keep me informed. I’m clearly being targeted.” Her lips thinned again at the very idea, “People might think BlueSprings was up to something if more nobles are threatened.”
“News travels so fast it is rarely more than smoke,” Ciara replied, looking from Iann to Cassandra. “I’m sorry to hear that isn’t the case this time. Are you all right, my lady?” She was smoothing her dress and in good enough spirits to be furious, something which boded well. She said nothing of the assassins she’d detected early in the morning, the ones who were dead in the lock by mid afternoon. “It has been a while since i heard from House Kesley, but I will endeavor to find out what I can for you, my lady.” Their displeasure was also noted, well and loudly received, just as was Miguel’s kindly disposition. “We’re all here for peace. I hope you find more of it now that you’ve reached here.” We’re here for peace - that was Avitej’s line, not hers.
Miguel nodded. Ciara’s words were enough for him, for now. “Your concern is appreciated,” he said pointedly at Ciara. And then he turned back to Cassandra and Iann. “I’d like to check on Adeline, if that would please you dear sister.” He knew she was guarded well in the castle - the little princess had far too many titles and too few years to not be guarded well.
Iann regarded Cassandra as she both laughed it off as not being important enough, and then also pointedly said she was being targeted. “Perhaps that is the point of this attempt,” Iann murmured, although not trying to include it as part of the conversation between the two women, or to Miguel. He only spoke to himself, and then rubbed his forehead, his furious frustration growing. He’d arrived in the Capital under Sharma’s request, the Cloverry’s invitation and the promise of unification and peace. And if this botched (and now that he thought about it in retrospect, terribly executed) kidnapping attempt had happened to some other distant House, it might’ve been piquant but easily dismissed news. But it didn’t happen to some random House; it happened to his brother’s wife, and Grand Lady of the fading Summerset. “It is good to see Bluesprings Castle. I enjoy its beauty.” Iann’s tone was curt and abrupt, which didn’t quite match his pleasant words; but the words were as much true as the aggravation he tried to shift away from. Unthinking, he gave Miguel a nod of permission, as if Miguel had ever taken Iann’s orders or heeded his permission
“Yes, I certainly hope I find more peaceful surroundings my remaining trip.” Cassie repeated back to Ciara, clearly still if not shaken greatly annoyed that the kidnapping took place at all. “I’m only glad it happened early on.” At least Cassie could be weary early on, rather than caught off guard much later. “If there are extra gaurds in the castle, I’d like to request them outside me and my daughter’s chambers, at least for the night.” Miguel and Iann might jump to offer their own knights of course, but she felt Bluesprings somewhat owed her. “I’ll take some rest and uh-“ Cassandra sighed, touching her hair as if to ground herself, “Check on Adeline as well.”
The guards would be provided; Ciara would ensure it. She was too powerful a person to trifle with, and besides, from what she knew, Ciara liked her. “Enjoy your rest,” she replied, and then it was just her and lord Iann. “I look forward to see the castle and capital grow in the coming years.” She replied, and gestured for her to walk with him. “How fare the Isles?”
Iann watched Cassandra trailing after Miguel, wondering if she was more bothered than she showed. He tried to relax, but it was difficult. And it was tempting to rub his shoulders, but Iann wouldn’t in public, and certainly not in front of Lady Ciara. “Thriving, as usual,” he said, tone as breezy as an ocean wind. “My children have all left home now. The youngest has a ship of her own. A trireme, really; but she’s taken her crew far. To Promise Harbour, last I’ve heard.” Iann never tired of talking about his children; and aside from his eldest being a Ward of House Savin, he never worried that the politics of Bluesprings would affect them. “Have you ever seen Promise Harbour? It’s beautiful; but the people there are even more enchanting than the sights…” He hummed, and smiled, trying to distract himself. “I spent six months there once, and never left the Harbourmaster’s Palace.” He looked at his boots as they walked. “But enough about me and the stars of my life. How do you fare, Lady Ciara? Dare I ask, or will I be disappointed by the answer?”
“I have not, I have heard many great things about it.” Ciara did not miss the implication of his tone, and was not considered chaste enough to pretend to hide it. “The Palace must have been truly exceptional indeed, to keep you so long.” He asked about her and she smiled. This was the custom. Polite question after question, and the game of words Iann played so well. “Perhaps nothing so grand as wayfaring children, but this tenuous peace has been good for us. My sister has secured a new trade route with Greywald, and Snowdonia has opened their mountain passes. My sister has become grandmother, thrilled with her spring child.” There was no story about her, and that was by design.
“You live such a full and busy life, Lady - and yet still no husband?” Iann said with a bland smile, considering Ciara said nothing of herself. But really, he was thinking about Snowdonia opening up their mountain passes. His Isles dealt in trade routes - and even ones landlocked in Greywald held interest to him as it provided alternate routes and therefore competition for his merchant people’s trades. He hummed. “Perhaps it’s time that I secure a second wife,” he mused, even though only the Potentate-King of the Forty Isles was allowed multiple wives. And technically his father was still alive. “Do you think your sister would agree to an alliance? The Greywald sister. Unless she is one and the same with the grandmother one, in which case…” He shrugged. “Older women dohave more experience.”
“We all find ways to serve our families, do we not?” Ciara replied in kind, and watched the seeds she’d planted grow in his mind. His response was so typical of many men here. You did not make allegiances with women, you married them. Over and over. Some houses allowed polygamy - hers did not, although there were plenty of mistresses with just as much power. She had been raised by four women, all of whom her father had used in his bed and in his politics. “I’m afraid my sisters are all married, although they will be honoured that you suggested it. We can discuss trade deals after the coronation, if you’d like.”
His first marriage was political. He loved his wife, but not with much depth or passion. He loved his children more, and left his wife to her own devices, following in the steps of his own father that way. But duty was what it was; the marriage pulled her House out of ruin, and made the Forty Isles richer. His middle brother married strategically as well; maybe love was there too, but he had, by traditional definitions, married up. The lands of Summerset’s glory was faded during the war, and the Germaine name made a great and powerful allegiance for a brother who would never amount to much. Miguel had yet to marry; but as his two brothers, it was expected that whatever choice he made, it would be of benefit to the kingdom. So Iann snorted at the idea of her sisters being already married, since other people’s marriages hardly ever deterred him from getting what he wanted. He treated this in jest, but all he could think of now, was Snowdonia pass. What perfect time, this sister somehow finding this new trade route, and the mountain pass opening, just as peace was on the cusp of Bluesprings. How utterly convenient. “Well, if they are unavailable then we shall just have to marry each other,” he said, to shift the topic and make it more obviously silly. He wasn’t truly being silly, he was playing the game.
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Amazing Quest 2: Chapter 1
The sequel to Amazing Quest. Honestly, I think this one is better.
-Controls-
Have you played an SNES-era JRPG before? Then you already know this.
-Cast-
Dood Z. Ma--
Wait, you haven't played an SNES-era JRPG before? Sigh. Okay then.
-Controls-
Control Pad – Move your characters or your cursor around, select things, etc.
A Button – Check/Speak/Confirm. You'll be using this a lot for obvious reasons.
B Button – Cancel. In battle, you can set this as a shortcut for Defend.
X Button – Open/Close Menu. In battle, you can use this to shortcut to your items menu. In the strategy guide, it lists this being used to launch things called the Push-of-War and the Dynamite Trigger. This is clearly not true, and has since become memetic in the fandom, where newcomers with questions that should be obvious are met with jeering posts of “Use the Dynamite Trigger!”
Y – Hold to dash on the overworld. In battle, this shortcuts to the Skill/Spell menu.
L/R – Rotates party members in order either back or forth.
Start – Pause the game. Also, in certain circumstances, unpauses it too.
Select – Opens the world map. Runs a 1/8126 chance of showing a pixelated green and black scene of Dood talking to some old man with a beret, who tells you to “SEEK DA TROOF”.
-Cast-
Dood Z. Male
Element: Light
Class: Pudding Warrior
Weapon: Swords. Four to be exact.
Special: Pudding Morph
Dood, as later side materials would go on to reveal, is the descendant of Hiro from AQ1, though with Pudding powers not dependent on the presence of others. Guess eugenics lost the bet on that one. Dood, like all AQ protags, can transform into the powerful Pudding Forms, but his have three-turn limiters where his MP is rapidly consumed away, however, this can be prolonged by feeding him MP restoration items. His stats are bolstered very, very high during this period, and can thus be a very potent character if built right.
Deliost Nu Toruble
Element: N/A (Fire after her mid-game Time Wasp shenanigans)
Class: Magic Student
Weapon Type: Spoons
Special Technique: Magical Assault
The quiet, reflective princess of Toruble, who is kept locked away from public viewing, due to her ever-growing chimeran traits (manifesting as kawaii cat eats and tail). She is a powerful offensive magic user, who only grows more potent as time goes on. However, she personifies the phrase “glass cannon” and has very low LP and Con scores for the duration. Also of note is her impressive figure, which I'm sure is an ancillary detail (You perverts.)
Kylie
Element: Earth (Default Form); Changes with Form
Class: Womanticore
Weapons: Variable Tail (Equippable Genes)
Special: Multi-Form
Kylie the womanticore was the result of a “DiY Womanticore Kit” project launched by the recurring miniboss fight, Balzac, who ended up escaping her captivity and mastering a life in the forest. Kylie is a “build your own” character, where she can equip up to three genes at a time, one in the “Head” slot, one in the “Body” slot, and one in the “Leg” slot. Her default form has middling stats and only a few skills it can learn on its own, but once she learns a skill from a particular gene, she will retain it forever, even if the gene is unequipped later on. Fans really like her, for... multiple reasons. Don't look! She's only 2 years old!
Genki Sake
Element: Wind
Class: Cat Thief
Weapons: Hair Clip
Special: Steal
Genki is of the kunoichi tribe (presumably of some relation to Kimyawa of AQ1, but that's just fan speculation), and strives to be the greatest cat thief of all time. In a very literal sense even, as her suit includes cat ears and a cleavage window you could lose mid-sized dogs in. Her weapons are hidden in plain sight, as she uses his hair clips as both weapons and tools of her trade to unlock doors and chests. When she's on point, she'll even automatically disable traps and she'll stop before running over trap floors. She has high attack and speed stats, but somewhat lacking in defense. And, to put the obnoxious fandom argument to rest, Sake is her family name and Genki is her given name. Now, stop fighting about it!
Chester D. Beaver
Element: Water, yup
Class: Beaver, yup
Weapons: Fish Guns, yup
Special: Spray, yup
Chester is quite an odd bucket of fish – literally and metaphorically. Being of the beaver tribe, he has a rather distinct means of punctuating most of his sentences, and as a mob boss over the beaver crime syndicates (which exist, apparently) he commands respect in such social circles. His spray attack allows him to make his normal attack target all enemies, which calculates damage akin to how all-hitting magic spell variants are done, and his bizarre fish gun series of weapons is always a joy to see in motion. He has high, all around stats, but very few skills to his name until almost at the endgame.
Deima the Immortal
Element: N/A
Class: Furry (Just Kidding)
Weapon Type: Staves
Special Technique: Magical Genocide
The eccentric and powerful chimera sorceress and eternal Pudding ally, Deima appears once more as a secret recruit you can find at around the midgame. She learns spells much faster and much earlier in the game than anyone else and has, bar none, the highest magical potency of the game and the biggest MP pools of any of the party, in particular her Hissatsu Zeikei Suki attack. Her field ability will also turn any animals you can hunt into burnt meat automatically, so, try not to use it!
Jaydea Varas Schoen
Element: Dark
Class: Pudding Noble
Weapon Type: “Heaven's Blades” Guitars
Special Technique: Regal Pudding Form
The Penultimate boss of AQ1 returns thanks to her gift of eternal life bestowed on her by the Goddess of Destruction. She retains her insane Pudding form, the Figgy Pudding Queen, and her love of Rock n' Roll. If you go out of your way near the tail end of the game and get her her fez and a Black Cow, you can have her join you, doubling your effective Pudding-related firepower. She has a stat build not unlike Dood's, but a heavier emphasis on defense, presumably reflective of her immortality. She does not want for offensive options, though, and will hold her own quite handily.
-Chapter 1: I'm Born! ~ Lone Idiot & Cub-
The game starts with a narrator speaking over a black screen.
Narrator: Nearly a century has passed since the legendary Hero-King of the Puddings sealed away the wicked goddess, Hulst.
JeffCom's translation team was not on point here. She was called Halst in the first game, Hulst in the second, and it wasn't until AQ3 where they finally got her actual name, Holstein, in the game correctly.
Narrator: When the red star appeared in the night sky, people called it the “Eye of Calamity” and said it was an omen of dark things yet to come. The people were without the heroes of legend and uncertainty took deep root in the tumultuous times. As a result, the Church of Sethan became home to many, seeking peace of mind and a road to hope, but not all was as it appeared to be.
Then, the image of a deformed skull appears on screen, in the center of what should be the forehead is a large, pulsating eye.
???: ****! Be careful!
Skull: I shall bring forth my revenge. Your efforts to stop me are in vain!
???: Oh yeah?! EAT THIS!
The Skull gets a large slash across its face. Uh, skull. Whatever.
Skull: Insolent Puddings! This is the will of the very stars themselves!
???: This is too dangerous! It's destabilizing!
???: But we're so close, ******! We can stop it now!
???: There's no time. Go on without me!
Skull: Trying to escape?! I won't let--
???: NOT WITHOUT A FALL GUY, BITCH! GLADIATOR!!!
Skull OH SHIIIIIIIIII--!!!
The screen whites out then comes back in, late in the evening as some young boy in ragged clothes, with four sheaths around his belt stumbles into view.
Boy: … Huh? Wait... where...? Oh, I don't feel so good...
The boy shakily takes a few paces before falling flat.
Boy: Ungh! My face is in the dirt, isn't it?
The boy lies there for a moment as a well-to-do girl walks on screen, clad in a yellow ribbon and matching dress.
Girl: ! What?!
She hurries over to him and, for a moment, looks like she's going to help him up. Instead, she whips out a stick and begins poking him in the head.
Girl: Hey, are you dead?
Boy: …
After a moment of this, an elderly man in a suit, identified only as Butler, walks over.
Butler: I see. M'lady, allow me, if you would.
The butler, quite violently, kicks the boy.
Butler: WAKE UP, TWERP! THE LADY HAS DEMANDED YOU ACKNOWLEDGE HER!
Boy: OH GOD, THAT WAS MOST CERTAINLY ONCE SOMETHING VITAL!!!
The boy leaps awake and steps away from the two.
Boy: What was that all about?!
Butler: It's rude not to reply to a lady's inquiry! You vagabond!
Boy: Your... mom... is a bag of bonds...
Girl: What's your name?
Boy: I'm Dood.
Girl: I'm Deliost. Want to be friends?
Dood: Sure, why not?
Deliost: Fantastic! Daddy always said I need to make some friends! And the last time I tried to make some, it didn't pan out so well.
Dood: Why not? Differences in hobbies?
Deliost: No, I tried to literally make them. Like build them. Out of straw and rocks. My therapist says I'm making great strides, though!
Dood: Great...
Deliost: I don't really get to go out and do much. Even when I do I have to stay close to the castle.
Dood: There's a castle?
Deliost: Indeed. I am the princess of the kingdom of Toruble.
Dood: … What's a Toruble?
Butler: Shall I teach the boy a lesson, m'lady?
Deliost: Please, do.
The Butler socks Dood in the face, knocking him out cold.
Deliost: BUTLER?!
Butler: There. Lesson learned.
Deliost: I meant open a history book and tell him about the Toruble Kingdom!
Butler: Oh. … Bully. Now I just feel silly.
The scene fades out, then returns with Dood laying in a bed.
Dood: Boy, I sure hope I get to maintain consciousness for longer than 10 minute intervals today. That'd be swell.
Deliost walks in.
Deliost: Dood, are you okay?
Dood: I'm fine. I think.
Deliost: That's a relief!
A tall man in regal splendor walks in.
King: And this...?
Deliost: This is Dood. You said I could keep him!
The King goes to Dood and eyes him.
King: You'd better take good care of my little girl, you got that? One step out of line and--
Dood: Sir. I'm pretty sure I'm like 10 years old. Probably. 10-ish.
Suddenly, some guards rush in.
Knight: Y-your highness! Monster attack!
King: What you say?!
The scene cuts outside, as we see a knight get knocked down by some munchkins.
Knight: No!! Knight 2! He was the finest mind of his generation!!
Dood suddenly rushes outside.
Deliost: Dood, what are you--?!
Dood: It's fightin' time!!
Dood leaps into battle with the munchkins. This works as your tutorial, with the game briefly explaining Attack, Defend, Skill, Item, and Flee options that any RPG veteran should be very familiar with. If you try to flee from this battle, the munchkins hold up a pistol to a teddy bear's head and Dood insists it would be unjust to leave it as-is. But as Munchkins die to one attack each from Dood and his high offense build, it'll only take a moment. If you ignore the tutorials for Defend, Skill, and Item, and keep attacking, the game will let you do so, but scold you for not paying attention.
Dood: Hyaaa!!
Munchkins: Run away! Run away!!!
Deliost: Whoa, Dood... that was so brave! How did you do that?!
Dood: Oh, it's easy.
Dood takes out one of his swords and points.
Dood: The pointy end is the business end.
Deliost: That's... not what I... okay. Sure. Alright.
Knight: That was incredible swordsmanship! Who taught you?
Dood: … Um...?
Knight: You... do have a teacher, right?
You then get a prompt...
My parents!
My Master!
The Sun!
What's a teacher?
If you select My parents!
Dood: My parents!
Knight: Who are you parents?
Dood: …
Tears well up in Dood's eyes.
Dood: Uwaaaaaaaah! I'm an orphan?!
Deliost: You didn't know that until just now?!
If you select My master!
Dood: My master!
Knight: Who was your master?
Dood: … My Master. Obvs.
Knight: Yes, but what was his name?
Dood: Mr. Ster.
Knight: You don't remember his name, do you?
Dood: No.
If you select the sun!
Dood: THE SUN!!!
Deliost: What?
Dood: I stare into the sun and it fills me with power!
Deliost: Dood, you really shouldn't do that...
If you select What’s a teacher?
Dood: … What's a teacher?
Deliost: Something you appear to be in dire need of...
Knight: … Well, your skills are undeniable! Maybe you should take up some work at the guild!
Dood: Work sounds good. Then I could buy MORE SWORDS!
Deliost: Um! Um! Yes, Dood, let us go and do good by the people!
Deliost grabs Dood's hand and pulls him off-screen as the knights idle. The camera soon catches up to them on a small dirt road.
Dood: Where are we going so fast?
Deliost: Anywhere! Now's our chance to get out and get away from the castle for a bit! C'mon!
Dood: Um. Okay!
You're then whisked away to FirstTown, where you're free to go around and talk to NPCs at your leisure. Here we can find a basic item and weapon shop, alongside a place with a sword and shield icon, wherein lies the guild and the plot. Inside is a lady in a dirndl is stationed at the counter.
Woman: Welcome, I am the guild stewardess. I'll post side miss-- I mean-- important jobs that you can accept here at the counter. In fact, there's a guild location in every city of the world, and due to our lightning-quick messaging services, we can relay information and jobs from all over the world to any location in a very convenient fashion!
Deliost: Ooo. What kind of work can we do here?
Dood: I wanna kill a dragon.
Deliost: Dood... do you know what a dragon... is?
Dood: No, but I know I wanna fight one!
Stewardess: No dragon slaying today, but I do have this. This might be a good test of your abilities.
Dood receives quest: find lost dog.
Dood: A lost dog?! That's... the saddest thing... I ever h-heeeeeeeeard!!!
Dood bawls.
Deliost: I had no idea you were so in-tune with your emotions, Dood! You're kind of like a puppy yourself...
Dood: I am?
Deliost: Yeah. Like one of those small ones that never really gets terribly smart, and sometimes pees the floor out of excitement, but they mean well.
Dood: Aww, that's nice of you to say!
Now we can access the nearby inn, or leave town and see the world map. We're sort of stuck on a linear path for the time being, but we ultimately need to head to the north, near the mountains, but I wouldn't recommend going there until you're level 3 or 4, just to be safe.
Dood: I think it went this way!
Deliost: You can determine where the dog went... how?
Dood: Well, it's easy. To find a dog, you gotta think like a dog.
Deliost: You can do that?
Dood: Watch me.
Dood gets down on all fours.
Dood: Woof! Woof! Barf, barf, barf!
Deliost: …
Deliost puts a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. You're then free to explore the mountain road. As you do, you'll see a deer munching grass.
Deliost: Dood, wait a sec.
Dood: What?
Deliost: Look there.
Dood: … Is that a dragon?
Deliost: … Huh? No! Dood, it's a deer.
Dood: I'm-a kill it anyway.
Deliost: What?!
You then gain control of Dood and you're prompted to tap “Y” when near the deer, which you can sneak up on if you time it right. Dood will slash with his sword, turning the deer into large, cartoon meat on a bone. Deliost does her best impression of The Scream as Dood picks up and presents the meat.
Dood: I killed a dragon!
Deliost: Uuuugh... I suppose hunting is a way to get supplies when our coffers are low... but... oh, Dood...
Now, when a random encounter concludes, there's a chance, depending on what map you're on, that a hunting event can occur, where you can kill some wildlife to get items. Dood hits with his sword, and will usually yield a meat, an item that restores health usually, and Deliost throws a small spark of electricity which is good for taking down small birds which Dood can't hit. As you go through the cave here, there's a healing spring.
Deliost: This is... it is. If we drink this water, it'll refresh us, body and mind. It's just like a good night's rest, Dood. … Dood?
Deliost looks over. Dood is shirtless.
Dood: So, we bathe in it, right?
Deliost: KYAAAAAA!!! PERVERT!!!
Deliost gets a violent nosebleed, then smacks Dood in the face with her spoon. This sends Dood careening back into the wall.
Dood: BARF!
Dood and Deliost learn their first dual skill: Dood Toss, where Deliost swats Dood in the back, hurling him into the enemy for large damage. From here, you should grind at least a little, then proceed to the end of the cave. As you exit the cave, be sure you save, as not far from the entrance is the boss. Dood and Deliost walk a bit before the creature crosses their path. It's a duck with horns and large, pronounced feet.
Dood: Is that...?
Deliost: It is! It's a--
Dood: DRAGON!
Deliost: Dood! No! It's a Jackoduck!!
-Boss Fight!-
Jackoduck
LP: 500
MP: 100
The Jackoduck is strong, only because it's HP is very high compared to what you're likely used to at this point. However, it doesn't have many abilities of note, mostly involving its Duckaphony attack, which will hit you both for small damage. If you heal as needed, there shouldn't be any issue here, especially as at level 6 Deliost gets the first lightning spell, which deals good damage against it.
-Boss Fight!-
Dood: Whew. That wasn't so ba--
The Jackoduck gets up and bites Dood's arm
Dood: Oooooh nooooo! Deliost! Shoot it! Shoot it!!!
Deliost: But it's still connected to you! Electricity will--
Dood: I don't care! Just shoot it!
Deliost: Well, okay.
Deliost raises her hand as a massive storm of lightning drops down on Dood and the Jackoduck.
Dood: BARF!!!
The Jackoduck explodes and Dood drops.
Dood: I killed a dragon.
Deliost: Sigh...
You're then free to leave the mountain and you'll exit on the other side, whereupon you'll find... a frog.
Frog: Ribbit.
Dood: Is it--
Deliost: It's not a dragon, Dood!!!
Dood: No, obviously, it isn't.
Deliost: Oh, thank goodness...
Dood: It's the dog we've been looking for!
Deliost: Say WHAT?!
Dood got... dog? Now we can head back to FirstTown. Once there, go to the guild.
Dood: We saved the dog! See?
Frog: Ribbit.
Deliost: I'm sorry, he's slow on the uptake.
Stewardess: Ehn. Seems legit. Here's 500 currencies.
Dood: Yay!
Deliost's jaw falls and hangs open.
Dood: What next?
Stewardess: Nothing right now, I'm afraid. But if you're curious, there's a new monster battle ring in the west where they've got a really neat lineup for the Monster Girl Festa.
Deliost: The... what?
Dood: Sounds kosher. Let's go!
You then can travel westward and enter into Corset, the mini-town that surrounds the coliseum area. Inside, you can't actually access the coliseum, due to a huge herd of people clamoring to battle with the monster girl champ, Balzac. Everyone in this town will tell you that to be anybody in this town, you have to win big at the coliseum, and that if you don't have one, a few stray monster girls run wild in the forest. You can tell this was a 90's RPG, as this, alongside a noteworthy minigame in AQ1 was wildly lambasted by Amelia Sardinian as the reasons why JeffCom+DTK and all its affiliates should, and I quote, “die horribly”. Anyway, we can go out into the forest and enter a little maze area where the enemies just love to spam poison as an ailment. The Mushroom Men, Dire Sparrows, and Vorpal Earthworms are indeed annoying, but if you brought lots of antidotes with you, it shouldn't be awful. At the end of it, you'll reach a clearing, where something considerably larger than you is leaping around the canopy, circling you.
Deliost: I don't think we're alone, Dood...
Dood: How can we be alone when there's two of us?
Deliost: I mean there's someone else here with us, Dood!
Dood: I didn't see anything.
The shadow blazes overhead again.
Deliost: There! Didn't you see that?
Dood: Sorry, I can't see anything. I'm busy checking my eyelids for cracks.
Deliost grabs Dood's head and yanks it so he's looking up, just in time for the shadow to ninja past them again.
Dood: Whoa! There's someone here!
Deliost: No, really?!
The shadow leaps down before them, revealing a curvaceous monster girl with large claws, long hair, and a long, scorpion-like tail.
Dood: It's...! It's...!
Deliost: Dood! Do not say “Dragon”!
Dood: … I'm still gonna think it.
The woman roars.
-Boss Fight!-
Womanticore
LP: 800
MP: 300
This is your wake-up boss fight. She follows up almost all her attacks with “Waffle Iron”, where she strikes with her claws after her normal attack, or she'll use “Mode Change” where she'll change color and use an elemental strike. She also has a huge pool of HP by comparison to anything we'd encountered. When her health dips below 25%, she'll give up using Waffle Iron, and grab one of your two characters with her tail, immobilizing them until the other hits her a few times, forcing her to drop them. This can be super frustrating, so heal early, heal often.
-Boss Fight!-
Monster Woman: Graaaaa--!!!
She falls.
Dood: I KILLED A D-- I mean... nothing.
Deliost rolls her eyes. The Monster Woman suddenly begins flailing, pounding her fists, feet, and tail up and down on the ground.
Monster Woman: Nooooo! It's not faaaair! I'm so hungry! All I want is a candy bar! But all there are to eat out here are bunnies and squirrels and they're TOO CUTE TO EAT! And the berries, good lord, the berries empty me out!!! A-bloo-bloo-blooooo!!!
She begins crying, with exaggerated anime water fountain tears and everything.
Dood: I can safely say I was not expecting that.
Deliost: Oh dear... maybe we should apologize to her?
Approach and speak to her, but all she does is continue her tantrum, reiterating how much she wants a candy bar. For now, we have to leave and return to FirstTown's item shop, which just got a fresh batch of Candy Bar items in, which we can buy on the cheap. For zenny vs. healing, candy bars are actually more economical than mundane potions, amusingly enough! Anyways, take at least one and go back to the Womanticore.
Monster Woman: W-w-what do you want? Sniffle. Hic.
Dood: Here!
Dood gave her the candy bar!
Monster Woman: … Ah! A candy bar?!
She hurriedly unwraps it, break it in half, and feeds half to her tail and eats half with her mouth.
Dood: … Pssst! Deliost! She just ate that with her butt! … Does she poop out her mouth?!
Deliost: You're not whispering, you know. She can hear you just fine.
Monster Woman: I'm Kylie. Who are you? And why are two little kids wandering around the forest?
Dood: Oh, this is Del--
Deliost: I'M ENKI AND THIS IS DOO... uhh... DUDU!
Dood: … Huh?
Deliost: (Dood! I'm a runaway princess! We can't just go around telling everyone who we are! They'll take us back to the castle if we do that!)
Dood: (Yeah, but, why do I have to be Dudu?)
Deliost: (You started talking about pooping out your mouth, so it just popped into my head!)
Until it says otherwise, Dood is listed as Dudu and Deliost is listed as Enki, even on the menu screen.
Kylie: How... old are you two?
Dudu: I'm... 10-ish? Yeah, let's go with that.
Enki: I'm 11.
Kylie: Hm. Well, I clearly have to be the adult here, seeing as I'm 2!
Dudu: That makes sense!
Enki: It... doesn't really. But we can just tell people she's 20 and they'd believe it...
Kylie: I'll go with you! That way we'll be safe!
Kylie joins! She is a customizable character, who starts with three copies of the “Womanticore” gene. As you get more, you can customize her, which changes her Head (her hair and horns), her Body (mostly her arms and color palette), and her Legs (which alters her legs and tail). This has made her very popular, as some late game combinations can be game-breaking, due to any gene being able to slot into any of the three options. Her starting skill is Roar, which ups one character's offense for a few turns. At this point, we can return to Corset and the crowd huddled around the door to the coliseum has dispersed. Inside, we can now register for the battle!
Receptionist: I see. Entering the Monster Girl battle with this Womanticore, eh? Well, if you want to do so, you'll need to pass our preliminary match against our director of monster resources!
Dudu: Kay.
Kylie: Me?! But aren't there younger, prettier monster girls you'd want to enter?!
Enki: Actually, I'd be legitimately surprised if there were any monsters here younger than you...
Now we can head over to a small dungeon-like room, to find a horrifyingly muscular man, whose head appears to be too small for his frame.
Dir. Of MR: OH YEEEEEEEEEEAH!
Dudu: … I think I peed myself a little in reflective terror.
Enki: Me too.
-Boss Fight!-
Director of Monster Resources
LP: 500
MP: 0
This guy is a joke boss, if his LP didn't tip you off. He just shouts “AGE?! SEX?! LOCATION?!” at you and punches, which barely does any damage. There's literally no reason you should lose here if you're trying.
-Boss Fight!-
Dir. Of MR: OH YEEEEEEEEEEAH!!!
Dudu: I guess we passed?
Kylie: Yay!
At this point, you're invited to speak to the manager, July.
July: Ah, the new rising stars here to challenge Balzac, I presume?
Dudu: I don't know why but the answer is “Yes”!
July: Lucky you, your opponent is a girl, so it'll be easy!
Kylie: But... I'm a girl too... what's that have to do with anything?
July: Well, the truth is... the outcome is already set.
Enki: What? The fight is a farce?!
Dudu: And it's fake too?!
July: The cruel up-n-comer, who wants to win at any cost... slowly tortures her enemy... and kills her for the sick entertainment of this crowd! … I expect very high ratings.
Kylie's face goes pale, as her tail turns downward and actually vomits.
July: There is no way you will lose, Dudu. During the battle's climax, we will fire poisoned darts at the enemy monster. She will die and you will win. The ratings will explode through the roof as the old champ is unseated, and we will become very, very rich...
Dudu: We... uh... need to... go... place... now.
July: Be sure to get your advanced payment from your locker room!
Go there, and you'll get 1000 zenny. Immediately head out and deposit it in the bank, then return and try to go into Balzac's prep room.
Dudu: Balzac! Balzac!!
Enki: Dudu, what are you doing?
Dudu: We have to warn him! We have to protect his monster girl!
Balzac: I can't sign autographs right now! I'm, uh, preparing my girl for battle! Y-yeah, that's the ticket.
Kylie: It's no good. We'll have to do something else.
Kylie paces back and forth as her tail scratches her head.
Kylie: Ah! I got it!
Kylie's tail snaps like fingers as a light bulb lights up over her head.
Kylie: Dudu, let me borrow your coin purse!
Dudu: It's a coin pouch.
Kylie: Now's not the time to argue over your fragile masculinity. Hand it over!
Dudu gave Kylie all his money.
Kylie: I'm gonna get two antidotes. When I fight his monster, we'll both take one and then we'll be safe!
Dudu: Great idea!
Enki: Be honest. You're taking all his money so you can stock up on candy bars, aren't you?
Kylie's tail nods.
Kylie: No! … Yes.
She hurriedly walks off screen.
Enki: Aren't you upset?!
Dudu: Not if she gives me one!
Enki: Ugh...
You then take over as Kylie solo. At this point, you now have two antidotes in your key items, so you can get your money back and do any prep you need to before the fight. When you're ready, go inside and go to to the arena floor. There, a huge crowd excitedly cheers. Opposite you is a strange, cyclopean cat girl creature.
Kylie: Hi! I'm Kylie!
Monster Girl: Hmph! You're goin' down!
Balzac: Yeah! What she said!
-Boss Fight!-
Cat-oblepas
LP: 600
MP: 800
While Cat-oblepas (ugh, the puns) lacks the raw hitting power of Kylie, she has the ability to turn her to stone for one round with her “Cat's Eye” technique. In itself, this does no damage, but it gives her an opening to hit you before you can act again. If you leveled her a bit, Kylie should have the “Lick Wounds” skill which restores HP to one target, and is generally more efficient than the healing items you'll have access to at this point. This is a war of attrition and you'll be going back and forth and sometimes the random off-chance that is Critical Hitting or Counter Attacking can shift the tide, resulting in some infuriating lucksacking scenarios. Just be patient and you'll win!
-Boss Fight!-
Dudu: Kylie! Knock her out! Quickly!
Enki: What he means is SHOVE HER OUT OF HARM'S WAY! The way he's saying makes it sound useless and vague, as she's already unconscious!
At this point, you have a few moments to act and push the KO'd Cat-oblepas out of harm's way. If you do, Kylie immediately chugs an antidote (one for her tail, one for her face) and presents a hearty thumbs-up to the player. If you don't, she force-feeds an antidote to Cat-oblepas and drinks one, but faints and you'll have to take on the next boss without her. Either way, this event gives Kylie her first customizable gene – Poison! The next scene is just the party walking to July's office.
July: What's the matter? You didn't like my script, Dudu?
Dudu: MY NAME IS NOT DUDU. I AM DOOD.
Enki: Because that's so much different...
July: Come at me, bro, I'm fekken ripped!!
July bursts into smoke as the boss fight cues. An amusing point, Dood's name in Japanese is read as “Doo-dii”, so what he's actually screaming is “I AM NOT DOO-DOO, I'M DOO-DII,” because apparently JeffCom has 13 year olds as writers.
-Boss Fight!-
July
LP: 1200
MP: 500
If there was really a battle that you run the risk of losing in chapter 1, it's this one. He hits like a truck, can use Waffle Iron, can hit the entire party with ice damage, and also, you can accidentally end up fighting him and be a party member-down! So definitely come here with Kylie. Deliost should also have her fire spells at this point, which you'll want to use liberally here, as they'll do maximum damage against this guy. Dood should stick to attacking, and have Kylie use whatever buffs she has at the ready when you arrive. If she's a sufficiently high level, she should have “Proud Cry” which ups defense, which Deliost should definitely have cast on her. This guy doesn't have any weird tricks or gimmicks. It's just a heavy clash of titans here. Do your best.
-Boss Fight!-
July: N-no way! My script... run through the shredder?! Impossible...! B-but don't think for a second that just knocking me down will stop our God's wrath!
Kylie: You try to murder and deceive, yet speak of God?! What deity does one as sick as you worship?!
July: BARF!
July explodes.
Kylie: … I wasn't expecting that.
Dood: Wow. July was a real monster over his profits!
Deliost: That joke sucked!!
And you then leave, concluding Chapter 1!
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Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL with an approved FC change to URSULA CORBERO. Admin Jen: Truly, Becky, you have left us speechless with this wonderful application! Your take on Grace was a bit unusual, and certainly not what I was expecting as I had established her in my mind as very cold and clinical. But the way you integrated emotions into her portrayal was brilliant -- it gave her a touch of volatility and extremism that accentuated the terror that Grace embodies so perfectly. I loved your future plots especially the evil scheme that you elaborated on and your writing sample left me trembling in both fear and admiration; everything just came together so intricately! I can’t wait to watch as she burns Verona to the ground! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.
WELCOME TO THE MOB.
Out of Character
Alias | Becky
Age | 22
Preferred Pronouns | she/her
Activity Level | I’ve sold my soul to you now, I can’t ever leave
Timezone | Ok so I wrote BST on Odessa’s app but the rest of the UK gang put GMT (time is a social construct and I’m actually a cosmic entity floating around the globe giving u all forehead kisses)
Current/Past RP Accounts | x x
In Character
Ok so I know you didn’t exactly accept her as an FC for Grace but I’m hoping you warm to edgy-looking neo-noir Úrsula Corberó once you’ve read the app. I admit that my idea of Grace may not be quite what you’re looking for but I wanted to give applying for her a shot because I love me Hot Mess of a character! (but I am also happy to come up with alternatives if not)
Is evil something you are?
Or is it something you do?
Character | Grace ‘Goneril’ Daly
What drew you to this character? | So like any good prophecy/vision/intervention of fate, I woke up one morning with a mighty need to play a character who is Odessa’s opposite, the black fur coat leather skirt cigarette ash psycho babe to my honey sweet lace and silk angel of retribution, so I’ve sort of been slyly waiting for Grace’s bio to be released.
It’s her contrast to Odessa that initially drew me in with the chance to explore another character whose existence and presence in Verona revolves around her father’s ties to a mob, but resulting in a drastically alternate result. It will be very different playing a character who doesn’t particularly have a motive for killing (beyond self-preservation and power-lust) and is loyal to only herself.
Whilst I would usually play a character like Grace as being a cold-hearted, emotionless ice queen, I feel as though Grace is better suited to burning. She is a slave to her emotions, the rise and fall of them dictating her mood, all while highly strung and fuelled by a chaotic form of energy. You can very much tell when she is happy and when she is not. She’ll cry in front of you just as gladly as she’ll laugh and kiss you. She’s unkind, ruthless, impulsive, emotional, and she’s ready to antagonise people to her tar-black heart’s content.
Character inspo: Azula from Avatar, Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body, Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter, War from Good Omens.
Trope inspo Alpha Bitch, Ambiguous Disorder, Blatant Lies, Daddy’s Little Villain, Go-Getter Girl, Hair-Trigger Temper, Improbable Weapon User, Jerkass, Sadist, Spoiled Brat, Virtue is Weakness.
What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |
i. A masterplan;
Step One: Grow to become an important part of the mob you were all but born into. Turn yourself into the perfect player, capable with weapons and unblinking in the face of danger.
Step Two: Leave them. Join their rivals. Prove yourself to them by dispatching of a few former associates, low hanging fruit. Become just as relevant within their ranks.
Step Three: Collate what you have learnt about the two mobs. Their strengths, their weaknesses. Make a few friends with similar goals to yourself. Corrupt them.
Step Four: Start your own mob. You now know your enemies intimately. You know what it takes to break them. Bit by bit, steal Verona out from under their noses. Laugh at their mistakes and dance in the ashes of their burning empires as you build your own.
Step Five: Be remembered forever.
ii. The double agent;
Traitor. Grace wears the title with pride, her smile sharp when she comes face to face with both Capulets and Montagues alike. Slinking from one mob to the other was a seemingly effortless transition, welcomed by none other than Damiano himself. She fed him information about Cosimo and his crew, spilling secrets around the end of her lipstick-stained cigarette. It was an easy way in, but now that she’s settled amongst her new comrades she finds herself looking back across the bridge with interest. Power is power but information is advantageous – Grace isn’t above feeding Montague-whispers back to her old associates, not if it means she wins friends on both sides of Verona. That way, it’s impossible for her not to win this war.
iii. Sisters, sisters
Regina and Catherine. Both are equally as disgraceful to the Daly name – one can’t even bring herself to be enthusiastic about the opportunities that lie, shiny and golden, before them, and the other flutters her lashes and talks of peace, of all things. Grace has never paid them much attention, but now that she’s sided with the Montagues she’s realised that the Capulets could do with having their numbers thinned. Whether she’ll try to convince them to switch sides with her for the Montague brownie-points or simply wipe her sister off of the face of the earth forever remains to be seen, but if Regina and Catherine think they can keep their heads down and get away with making the Dalys seem anything less than destined for greatness, they’ve got one hell of a storm coming.
Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I sure am, same goes for Odessa now, it’s time to make like Grace and embrace reckless abandon
In Depth
In-Character Para Sample:
She is the thing watching you from the edge of the road, where long grass shivers with the motion of something far more alive than it has any right to be; a pair of eyes that glint in the final rays of the sunlight’s reaches, bleached white enamel teeth ready to sink themselves into those who mistake the night’s cloak as a thing to hide under rather than be consumed by.
She is fresh fruit in the heat, a slow rotting taking place at the centre disguised by mouth-watering scents and a flesh that glistens under the sheen of morning dew. Decay is a dance, slow and tantalising, the heart turning to a sticky dark mess that slides through the fingers of anyone who dares to try and save it.
She is a doctor who has never been able to stop her hands from shaking at the prospect of a new body, eager to pick up the scalpel and press it down into soft flesh, revealing a mass of life clinging to the bones. Her favourite colour is red, the sort that looks black in the evening, droplets turning to pools that spread through pressed shirts and silk pyjamas like tears on pillows. There’s blood on her hands, not always metaphorical. She licks it off, rarely quite satisfied.
Grace fucks like the meeting of hips will reveal the monster that lies beneath her, as though touching there and there and there will unlock ribcages and unleash what’s trapped inside of hearts. But to understand why, you must crawl inside her skull and make sense of what lurks there beneath the smoke of burning houses and vultures picking at once-satisfied things–
“Please take a seat,” Damiano says, and Grace lingers before lowering herself onto the chair, her gaze gliding over the mahogany desk between them before raising to study the man himself.
He smells like her father. That’s the first thing she notices, the faint cologne. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and the signet ring on his finger keeps catching on things, releasing a dull metallic sound each time. His presence is more regal than Cosimo’s and yet she finds herself thinking the exact same thing – you aren’t worthy.
These men had all inherited their empires, passed down like heirlooms, and as a result they had become lazy. Content. Uninspiring.
“I’m very happy to be here,” she chimes pleasantly. “However… unexpected it may be.” She doesn’t tell him how much she wants this. Doesn’t explain that being welcomed into the inner sanctum of the Montagues is as pleasing as a night of post-murder hot sex. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your work.”
Damiano doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t need to. Grace is well aware that she wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t intend to offer her something. “I have a proposition.”
I bet you do, she thinks, her well-orchestrated plan playing out like the sweetest of songs. Black-nail-polished fingers press to her chest, feigning surprise. “For me? Damiano, you’re spoiling me.” The words curl up from her lips like tendrils of cigarette smoke. She punctuates them with a light laugh.
The deal is a simple one: information for protection. Spill some secrets to join the ranks. Grace does so without blinking, switching silver for gold, and slowly the pieces begin to fall into place. As with any self-proclaimed god, she grazes her knees on carpet to say thanks to Damiano, sacrifices those she’s left behind, and fills her head with only the loveliest visions of tearing his and Cosimo’s empires to the ground.
Extras:
Pinterest board
Time for more of ‘Becky attempts to write headcanons’:
Her parent’s little angel turned little devil. Spoilt from a young age, she soon learnt that she could get away with near enough anything provided she smiled sweetly to her parents and told them just how much she loved them. When her sisters were born, the attention that had been on her drifted and Grace found that she had to work harder and harder to hear her name on her parent’s lips.
Grace grew up restless. Her ambitions would flit like moths around a lightbulb, becoming half-planned dreams and broken things. It wasn’t until she was rushed to hospital following a road traffic accident* (which resulted in the removal of a kidney) that she decided to train to become a paramedic.
*Her parents later suggested that it was no accident and had in fact been planned by the Montagues,
As a paramedic, she always manages to be first on the scene when an incident linked to the mobs is called in. Strategically, if someone fails to complete a murder she can finish the job herself, or silence any witnesses. Similarly, it also gives her the opportunity to plant fake evidence or remove weapons from the scene. For those evading the eyes of the authorities, she can also help those who have been hurt and can’t risk a trip to the hospital.
She is resourceful and will use whatever is to hand as a weapon. Has been known to dish out the odd black eye, broken nose, crushed windpipe, and acrylic nail scratches. Her father himself trained her to use a pistol and rifle under the guise that he was teaching her to hunt (which, technically, wasn’t a lie – they just never specified the quarry).
She lives by 3 important rules. One: trust only those you would die for. Two: protect what is yours. Three: if something is boring or unimportant, do not waste time on it.
Grace needs to be needed and wants to be wanted. She can’t stand shrinking into shadows and being forgotten. No, she must remain the life of the party and attract the attention (be it good or bad) of everyone.
She was once arrested and fined for drunk and disorderly behaviour on whilst on holiday in England. She slept it off in a cell and was released the next morning with a hefty fine.
She is a big fan of piercings and has a stick n poke shark on her ribs.
Inspo quotes:
“I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise.
“Her mood is cruel, her nature dangerous. Her will fierce and intractable” – Euripides (translated by Philip Vellacott), Medea
“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.” – Junot Diaz, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao
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Title: not so above it all
Synopsis: In the aftermath of Varian stealing the Sundrop Flower, Rapunzel must come to terms with the betrayal of a friend, and the role she played in his destruction.
Notes: We aren’t given a reason or an excuse for why Rapunzel never visited Varian after the storm (especially if she was so worried about him!!). So, this is my take on it. I still think it's more in-character for Rapunzel to immediately have gone after Varian once the storm was over, but I feel this explanation might serve as well.
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AO3 Link is here.
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Long after the sun has set, Rapunzel is still awake.
She should sleep—she knows this intimately, well aware of how exhausted she will be in the morning if she does not—but every time she closes her eyes, something awful curls in her gut and seizes her breath. She feels sick to her stomach, head spinning in circles and mouth dry and clammy. She’s exhausted, but no matter how hard she tries, sleep doesn’t come. She just sits in sweltering sheets and tosses and turns until she dozes in a feverish haze, jolted back into awareness by the slightest sound.
Guilt, Rapunzel thinks, is an emotion that allows for no rest.
It’s only been a few hours since that disaster of a day, but the pain still cuts as deeply as it did back then. The look on her father’s face when he realized what Rapunzel had done. The worry in her mother’s eyes. The disdain in Varian’s voice, a boy she’d seen as a friend, as he laughed in her face and said, “I used you.”
Rapunzel snarls under her breath, casting her blanket off in a sudden fury. Pascal squeaks in alarm, ducking to dodge the flying sheets. Rapunzel whirls off the bed and grabs fistfuls of the soft fabric, ripping her many blankets free from the mattress and throwing them in a heaping pile on the floor. She stands over them, her bed bare and pillows strewn across the room, her chest heaving, her hands curled into shaking fists.
As quickly as it came, the anger drains out of her, leaving her feeling washed-out and faintly ashamed. She looks down at the sheets, and all she can think is that it didn’t really solve anything at all, that she is still angry and hurt and damnably guilty, and now in the morning the maids will come in and have to clean all this up, and Rapunzel is such a child—
It would be easy to pick up the sheets, or rather, it should be easy, but suddenly it seems like the hardest thing in the world. Her small room spins before her eyes, the walls closing in on her at all sides. The air is heavy and hot and suffocating. For a moment it almost looks like her tower.
Her breath catches in her throat, and before she even realizes what she’s doing, Rapunzel slams open the door to her balcony, almost tripping in her haste to escape the room. The slap of cold air is like a wake-up call, and Rapunzel hunches over her knees, breathing heavily, sweat cooling on her brow. For a moment, she thinks she might be sick, nausea roiling in her gut.
The moment passes, and slowly but surely, the night air brings Rapunzel back to herself, eases the feverish flush in her skin and chases the last haunting dreams from her head. She wanders in a daze to her balcony railing, bare feet pressing against cool stone. She lifts one hand to the railing to steady herself, the rock blessedly cold against her palm.
The city sprawls out below her, rolling hills and black ocean on the horizon. The sky is dark, heavy clouds having rolled in with the sunset and hiding the moon from view. The whole city seems blanketed in darkness, the shadows long and deep, swallowing up the last lingering lights. Even the usual streetlamps seem dimmed, their glow faint and near invisible to Rapunzel’s eyes, so far away up in the castle.
She cannot help but feel this is an omen of sorts.
Even though she cannot see it, Rapunzel knows what lies beyond the water, beyond the graceful dip of the mountains and hills. Her tower used to stand there, hidden in the cliffs. Varian and the Sundrop Flower are there now. All of them lost to her.
Happy birthday to me, Rapunzel thinks, glaring down at the city below and blinking furious tears from her eyes. Your childhood home is destroyed, your dad is lying to you, you committed treason…
She squeezes her eyes shut, breath hitching and fingers digging into the stone railing of her balcony, but hot and angry tears slip free anyway, uncomfortably warm on her cold cheeks, agonizingly slow as they trail down the creases on her face, plopping from her chin onto her hands.
…And you lost a friend.
She bows over the railing, arms trembling, fighting back the sudden and overwhelming urge to break down in tears for real. She’s been fighting the breakdown all day, the tears and the anger and the ugly helplessness that’s been boiling in her blood like a restless curse.
Rapunzel takes a deep breath, the cold air stinging her throat, and wipes the tears away with the tips of her fingers, gently, carefully, calmly. She won’t break down again. Once in a day is enough. She has already cried over this, sobbed quietly into her arms when the day caught up with her. Eugene had found her then, comforted her, wiped away her tears.
“It’s not your fault, Rapunzel.”
She is so grateful to him, for saying that, for being there. Rapunzel had needed those words, even if now, with some time and perspective, she can admit that they are not wholly true. But at the time they had been a balm on an ugly wound.
Now, even if it is only hours since then, in the cold winter air and away from the small walls of her room, Rapunzel can reflect. It hurts her still, but the bite of the cold and the dark night lets her breathe.
“Everyone turned their backs on me!” Varian had told her, only six hours ago. Rapunzel knows that isn’t really true. She suspects Varian knows that too. There is no way all of Corona denied him, not every single person. She knows this because she knows Corona… and, too, because she once knew Varian. Anger in his voice when speaking about Corona. But betrayal, thick and awful and ugly, when speaking about her.
“Sorry, Princess… but I know firsthand how well you keep your promises.”
Rapunzel doesn’t know what happened to Varian’s father, how he came to be entombed, though she has her suspicions. What she does know is this—in that moment, Varian was right. No matter Rapunzel’s good intentions, no matter how sorry she was… she had broken her promise to him. Not just that day during the storm, when she turned him away. But every day since then, too, every day that passed that she didn’t go to see him, to help him, to drag him away. When it comes to Varian, Rapunzel has broken her oath so thoroughly not even an apology can make up for what she’s done.
The worst part is, she doesn’t even have a good reason. She had been scared, and so she’d stayed away. Those two days as Queen had gutted Rapunzel, tortured her, twisted her inside and out. She couldn’t paint, she couldn’t make choices, and every time she thought about Varian, about the desperation in his voice and the fear in his eyes, and told herself, go, go now, he needs you…she hadn’t. The fear had risen in her throat and her feet had stayed glued to the smooth castle tiles.
Even later, she hadn’t dared. It was too late, then, and she told herself going now would only make things worse. Or that, if he still needed her, Varian would come again. Or that maybe he was angry with her—as he was right to be—and staying away deliberately, and she should respect that.
It had seemed so logical at the time. Now, having seen the amber tomb of Varian’s father and seen the lengths Varian is willing to go to save him, having heard the fury in his voice as he blamed her and the kingdom… now, Rapunzel can see those words for what they really are.
Excuses, to hide her own fear.
Rapunzel has screwed up. She knows this. She has failed, utterly and miserably. She has let Varian down, turned her back on him however unintentional it may have been, and she has lost his friendship forever. How funny, that she discovers this now. Too little and too late.
She rocks back on her heels, tilting her face towards the sky. Thinking of Varian is painful, like someone has taken a knife and stabbed it into her chest, then grabbed the hilt and kept twisting. Awful, and ugly.
She exhales slowly into the night air, watching her breath fog and mist. A soft squeak draws her eyes back down to the railing. Pascal stares up at her, eyes wide, skin turned pale green at the cold. He must have followed her when she left the room.
“Oh, Pascal,” Rapunzel says, and reaches for him. He crawls on her hand and up her arm, his small spiky face butting at her cheek. She laughs wetly and cups him gently with her hand to protect him from the wind.
“I’ve screwed up,” Rapunzel whispers to him, blinking back tears at the admission. “I’ve screwed up so bad, Pascal. And the worst part is, I don’t think I’ll be the only one paying for it.” She stares out blindly at her city, her people, her friends and family sleeping soundly in the dark. “I’ve put everyone I love in danger.”
Pascal squeaks a sharp disagreement, tail smacking her ear.
“It’s my fault,” Rapunzel argues back, voice ragged with the effort of holding back her tears. “It’s all my fault, Pascal. I—I should have helped Varian, I should have kept my promise, but I— I didn’t. I let him down. And now…”
Pascal chirps again, tail poking her cheek.
“Of course I didn’t know,” Rapunzel whispers. “But I still helped him steal it. And I— he’s right, maybe if I had gone with him then, or…”
Pascal croons at her.
Rapunzel wipes hard at her eyes. “You don’t know that,” she says. “I’m sure… the kingdom could have… the snow wasn’t so bad that…” She can’t finish. She knows it’s not true. Her eyes drop to the railing. “I should have gone after,” she says finally. “When the snow was gone. I should have… I should have.”
Pascal’s small head rubs against her cheek in comfort. Rapunzel stares down at the city.
“I should have,” she says again, and takes a deep breath. “But I didn’t. And now… Varian, he’s going to hurt all those people. They don’t deserve that. They don’t…” She trails off. “It’s not right. It’s not right. It’s not their fault. I get why he’s angry at me, but everyone else—!”
Pascal waits. Rapunzel turns and brings the small chameleon to her face. “He’s angry,” she says, finally. “He’s grieving. But… I can’t let him hurt all those people. That— no matter his reasons. That… isn’t right.”
Pascal gives Rapunzel his best approximation of a smile, tongue flicking out at her nose, startling her into laughter. She feels relieved. A weight has lifted from her shoulders.
The pain, the guilt, the sting of Varian’s betrayal— it isn’t gone, exactly, isn’t even dulled. But she can push past it now. She can breathe a little easier, having come to this choice. Rapunzel is at fault here, yes. But she is not wholly responsible. She may have let Varian down, she may have broken her promise, but that is no excuse for what he’s done or what he will do. Loss is never an excuse for hurting others.
Varian has poisoned the castle staff, betrayed the trust of his friends, and stolen the Sundrop Flower for his own gains. He has sworn revenge on people who had nothing to do with his grief. She may have pushed him to it, but it was Varian’s choices, in the end, that have led them to this point. He has chosen his path, and now Rapunzel must choose hers.
“Thank you, Pascal,” Rapunzel says, and turns back to her room. “I know what I have to do.”
She doesn’t have all the answers, not yet. No real solution, no real way of winning. But she has courage, and heart, and her friends—and the promises she has yet to break, the promises she will make sure stay fulfilled, especially now that she knows the cost of breaking one.
Rapunzel has resolve, and for now, it is enough.
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CHAPTER 4 : I should have loved you even more like crazy
- How are we going to find the trace of the human? asked Xion, running at vampire speed alongside Leedo.
- We go back to the place where the necklace was.
- W-WHAT?
Leedo gave the younger one a warning look after his exclamation of surprise. Xion then resumed more gently.
- Are you out of your mind? Do you want us to go back there? After they managed to hurt Keonhee and Hwanwoong? That's suicide!
- Do you have another idea to track the human? The only place where she has been seen is there, hopefully, we'll find an olfactory trace to follow, otherwise, we'll wait around. If she was there, it's because she's connected to the people who attacked us, she'll eventually come back.
The vampire's long statement, for him normally rather silent, left Xion tong tide. He knew that his elder was not wrong, but the plan was too flawed. There were so many things that could go wrong.
When they arrived at the place they had just fled, they hid in the shadows of the dark alleys. They did not get too close. They couldn't anyway.
- What's that?" Xion asked, wrinkling his nose adorably, confused by the situation.
- Magic for sure...I don't know exactly what, but it keeps us from getting close to it.
- It gives me a familiar feeling...
- Me too, but we'll have time to see that later, we have other more important things before
The two vampires then looked at the building, patient enough to wait to see if the human whose scent they had memorized would return to the scene of the robbery.
****
Seijin suddenly straightened up in his bed. Her breathing was erratic, and her skin was covered with a thin layer of sweat. Hier brown hair stuck to her forehead and her eyes were wide open in fear, showing dilated pupils. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and ears as she became aware of her surroundings. She sighed with relief when she saw that she was in her room. Her dreams had been haunted by bloody and macabre visions. Nightmares that had clawed their way into her mind and had not let her wake up.
She got up and looked for her phone for a moment before she remembered that she had left all her stuff at the gallery. She was going to have to go back and get them and she had absolutely no desire to do so after last night.
The smell of pancake reached her nostrils and she frowned. Her parents, aren’t one to cook, and they couldn’t be present in the apartment right now. Moreover they hadn't hired anyone to cook since Seijin was able to cook for herself.
Still, in her pajamas, she went to the living room and found Yoongi behind the stove, Namjoon sitting at the kitchen island.
- Hello, I see you've made yourself comfortable.
They turned their faces towards her at the sound of her voice. None of them smiled as they usually would. The three humans had horrible faces. Obviously Seijin was not the only one who hadn't slept.
- Your mother called Seijin, did Namjoon as a greeting
Seijin pursed her lips as she heard the words of his bodyguard. Without a word, she went to sit with him on a stool.
- What did she want?
- She apparently got wind of your presence at yesterday's events... She wants to talk to you about it," says Namjoon, "She told me she tried to call you but she couldn't get through....
- No wonder, all my stuff stayed there yesterday.
- She seemed to be annoyed Seijin, Yoongi calmly said.
A sentence seems to be of no importance, except to Seijin for whom it was a bad omen. Kang Sora, Seijin's mother is a cold and calculating woman. She is the youngest of a large family and had to climb up the social ladder with her beak and nail. She is a queen of low blows and doesn't usually let her emotions get the better of her. The fact that she let her anger show so clearly meant only one thing: last night's events were more serious than expected.
It wasn't the first time that attempts were made to steal the gallery and there were deaths in the process. There was something strange behind the theft of the necklace, and Seijin, by being present with his bodyguards, found herself involved in a situation that seemed to her to be disadvantageous.
- At least we might learn more about what we saw yesterday," said the young woman as she began to eat the pancakes Yoongi had just served her.
- Speaking of which, I still find it hard to believe what I saw," Namjoon said, rubbing his eyes, "I'm still looking for a plausible explanation for it all.
- I'm considering the hypothesis of a satanist group or something like that," Yoongi said, leaning against the counter on the island.
- It's possible, honestly, I haven't given it much thought, I haven't recovered from what I saw.
- It's not the first time you've seen dead people Seijin," said the eldest bodyguard.
- Perhaps. But this is the first time I've seen such a massacre... What time does my mother want to see me?
The two men did not notice her change of subject. They told her that she had just said as soon as possible. With a nod, Seijin returned to her food, and a good half hour later the trio was in the car heading for the gallery.
The latter was closed and guard by the cops, with curious people pressing up the safety strips. She hadn't turned on the TV, but no doubt the news was on the news. After all, the KANGs were not just anyone in the city. The car was parked just before the security perimeter.
- Well...let's go
The lady puts on her mask of calm and indifference before opening the door. Namjoon and Yoongi soon framed her as reporters huddled around her to learn more about her progress. Of course, the police let her pass, and she walked head up towards the entrance of the gallery. The same entrance she had used the day before and which today was unguarded, the guards having been replaced by police officers.
A feeling of being watched suddenly sent shivers down her spine, and the brunette turned her head to observe the adjacent streets. She saw nothing, but the feeling did not completely disappear until she was inside the known walls of the gallery.
#WOT:Icarus#fanfiction#kpop#original caracter#nightmare#oneus#leedo#oneus xion#bts#min yoongi#bts rm
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