#it's the 'not even gonna bother trying' for me ... while women will readjust their entire fucking lives around your anger.
Text
x
#apparently this is where i vent about this now bc i can't bear to call a friend and verbalize everything xx#ok . matching a man's anger i can do#but having to sit there quietly and calmly trying to explain how and why violence is Bad™️ and why women are inherently fucking terrified#of male anger and violence#without so much as showing an OUNCE of emotion because you know that the second you appear emotional or hurt by it you lost the fight#because the man will just stop fucking listening to you and taking you seriously#having to do all that for 45 minutes while he tries to ARGUE LOGICALLY WITH ME that#if i actually fear him ever going further than that with his violence then i don't know him at all and it's actually all my fault#therefore HE is the one insulted and needing an apology .#having to sit there. and explain Violence = Terrifying to a man who thinks i should apologize to HIM for fearing it in the first place .#and the fact that i went in JUST asking for an apology and all i got was#''i can't change i hope you know that and you aren't asking that of me.''#..and the ONLY way this conversation could even move forward is if i agreed with him on this. which i had to do <3#it's the 'not even gonna bother trying' for me ... while women will readjust their entire fucking lives around your anger.#willdelete#i literally don't know where to go from here i despise that i even have the patience for these conversations#>knowing< they will never amount to anything bc if they don't want to see themselves in the wrong they just won't!!!!!#no matter how articulate and calm and logical you are
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Muted Worries (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}
Title: Muted Worries
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1900
Warnings: Post-Partum Depression, discussion of post-pregnancy body changes, and lots and lots of ANGST.
Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1997 about two weeks after Sofía‘s birth. I literally wish I could see this chapter as a scene, because the emotions hurt while writing this.
Summary: Reader grapples with her emotions and worries.
@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @awesomefandomsunited @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @ah-callie @swhiskeys @exrebelshocktrooper @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @cinewhore @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110 @katlikeme
Josie was obsessed with her sister. If Chucho was holding Sofía, Josie was perched on the chair beside him; if Javier was carrying her around, Josie was right underfoot; and if you were feeding her, Josie was there asking you to hold the bottle.
You wished you could harness her enthusiasm and feel something. But you couldn’t. You brushed it off as lingering exhaustion, a sort of fatigue that ran straight to the core of your being.
Everything hurt. Worse than it had with Josie. Or at least, worse than you remembered. Sofía was smaller than her sister and yet it felt like you’d given birth to a water buffalo, instead of a baby.
No one ever talked about how miserable women felt after childbirth — and it wasn’t like you could even complain about it to Connie. You already felt guilty enough for feeling miserable. Like you were a bad mother for being disinterested in everything.
Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. You’d tried to avoid prescriptions your entire life — for obvious reasons — but this was one you couldn’t avoid.
The fact that you couldn’t feed your daughter was probably another part of it. And pumping a dozen times a day, only to send it down the drain was a depressing venture. No one talked about how much this shit fucked a woman up. No one.
“Hey—“ Javier started as he walked into the bedroom.
“Knock much?” You snapped.
Javier froze and you watched as the warmth faded from his expression, “Shit. I’ll come back.” He muttered as he moved to retreat from the room.
“Just stay.” You said with a beleaguered sigh as you shut off the machine, unscrewing the full bottle and sitting it aside on the nightstand. “Sorry.”
“I can go.” Javier offered, not quite meeting your eyes as he looked across the room at you.
“You’re already here, just stay.”
You readjusted the pump on your other breast, attaching the second bottle before turning the machine back on. The quiet whirring filled the uncomfortable silence that had settled between you.
Javier lingered by the door, like he was planning for a quick escape. You couldn’t even blame him. None of this was worth the hassle.
“Pops thought it might be nice if we got out of the house and went to the beach this evening.” He suggested, rubbing his lips together as he glanced at you.
“I’ll see if I’m up to it.” You winced when the suction of the pump pinched your skin. “Shit.”
“Do you need—“
“I’ve got it.” You waved him off as you shut the pump off and pulled it off your breast, causing a little milk to spill. “Actually, can you grab me the towel?” You pointed to the hand towel sitting on the foot of the bed.
Javier closed the distance between the two of you, snatching the towel off the bed and passing it to you. “How are you feeling?”
You rolled your eyes, “Like shit.” You wiped off your breast, sitting the towel aside as you gestured to the full bottle. “Can you throw it away? I don’t want to see it.”
“Of course,” He said softly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, before taking the bottle into the bathroom to get rid of it.
It was fucking defeating.
“Are the stitches still bothering you?” Javier questioned as he stepped back into the bedroom with the empty bottle.
You shrugged, hooking the machine back up to finish pumping your left breast. “They’re itchy.”
Javier hesitantly perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rest his hand on your leg. “That means they’re healing.” He reminded you.
“I know.” You nodded slowly as you watched the milk drip into the bottle. “I hate this, Javi.”
He squeezed your leg, “You still gonna try to hold out until you can breastfeed?”
“I don’t know,” You admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. You hated feeling weak and this shit made you feel like you were frail and stupid. Crying over not being able to feed your child. No one understood. “We’ll see.”
“I’m, uh… I’m sorry for barging in.” Javier said quietly, his brows drawn together as he looked down at where his hand was resting on your leg. “I should’ve knocked.”
“It’s fine.” You told him with a tightlipped smile. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” You reached down to catch his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “The beach sounds nice. Even if I don’t go, you and your dad should go. He’s been cooped up here for too long.”
“He’s gonna stay another week,” Javier informed, his jaw working slowly as he looked down at where your hands were. “Then he’ll be out of our hair and things can go back to normal.”
Normal.
Did you even remember what normal was? Had you felt like this with Josie? You didn’t think you had — you hadn’t exactly had the privilege of falling apart when you were in Colombia.
What was normal?
“Yeah.” You nodded, sitting up a little straighter then as you held out the second filled bottle, “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and took the bottle from you. He was in the bathroom longer this time — quiet.
When he emerged with the rinsed out bottle, his eyes looked red, but you didn’t have the energy to care. You barely had the energy to care about anything these days.
“You gonna stay in here?” Javier questioned, shifting anxiously from foot-to-foot as he stood at the end of the bed, not quite meeting your gaze.
“I need my heating pad.” You answered, sliding your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes as you pressed your feet to the floor. “I’ll come out there.”
Javier pulled open the door and held it open for you as you wrapped your throw around your shoulders and made your way towards him.
“Hey,” You whispered, stopping in front of him.
“Yeah?” He arched a brow.
“I love you.” You told him gently, reaching out to brush your knuckles against his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, before making your way out the door.
“Mommy!” Josie cheered, as you stepped into the family room. “Sissy burped big!”
“Did she?” You laughed softly, summoning as much enthusiasm as you could for her benefit. “Did your abuelo feed her good?”
You caught sight of the wary look Chucho gave Javier as his eyes shifted between the two of you. But he was quick to put whatever that was aside when he met your gaze.
“She ate like a prize calf,” He remarked, cradling her to his chest as she fussed at the new commotion in the family room. “How are you feeling, chica?”
You sank down on the sofa and adjusted the heating pad over your stomach, “Cramping.” You offered with a shrug. “And tired.”
“Can I kiss it better?” Josie asked innocently as she crouched down next to the sofa.
“It might work,” You intoned, playing with her curls.
“O-Tay, mommy!” Josie leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your stomach. “All better!”
You smiled at her and echoed, “All better!”
Josie giggled, before prancing across the family room to the armchair where Chucho was sitting. “Sissy! You gots to get bigger so you’re more fun.”
You tilted your head to look behind you, catching Javier’s gaze. You wished you knew what was going on behind those stormy looks, but you weren’t certain you could stomach more guilt. You knew it wasn’t fair to make him bottle it all up — but you couldn’t do it.
Javier rested his hand on the arm of the sofa, leaning over you.
“What are you doing?” You laughed, a genuine laugh that made your heart warm. You reached up and played your fingers through his hair. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He breathed out as he peppered a line of soft kisses along your jaw, before his breath warmed your cheek by your ear. “I love you too.” Javier murmured and you swore you felt a tear slide down his cheek and land on yours, before it fell into your hair.
——
“How was the beach?” You questioned sleepily as the bathroom light cut into the darkness of the bedroom and woke you up.
“Good.” Javier offered, shutting off the light and making his way through the darkness. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s alright.” You assured him, rubbing at your eyes as they adjusted to the lack of light. “What time is it?”
“Just after nine.” He answered as the bed dipped behind you. “I fed Sofía.”
You reached out and ran your hand down his back, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Javier sighed heavily and you listened to the sound of his watch dropping onto the nightstand, before he settled down on the bed beside you. “How was your evening alone?”
“I got two children cleaned, dressed, and down before eight.” You grinned, even though he couldn’t see you. “An achievement.” You stretched your leg out beneath the covers, running your foot along his calf. “What’d you do?”
“Let Stevie run around the beach,” He explained, shifting closer to you. “Took pops down to the icecream shop on the boardwalk.”
“Ohh. Now you’re making me sad I didn’t go.” You shifted closer to him too, draping your arm over his chest.
“It was good.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Pops used to take me out on this one stretch of road when we had our serious talks. Beach doesn’t have the same feel.”
Your heart clenched in your chest. “Is Chucho alright?” You remembered all the times Javier used to talk about those long talks with his father.
“Hmm?” Javier sniffed. “Yeah, he’s good. Fucker’s gonna outlive both of us and the girls, I bet.”
“Oh.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Well that’s good.”
Javier curled his fingers around your hand, squeezing it three short times. “There’s nothing to worry about, baby. We just used the time to talk. Father to son.”
“That’s good.” You mustered up just enough conviction in your voice to mask the way your nerves were settling in. You remembered Javier telling you about the time Chucho took him out on a drive to talk about how foolish he was for asking Lorraine to marry him.
Were you some mistake Chucho wanted to lecture him on? The thought didn’t make sense — you were pretty sure Chucho liked you more than Javier. But those fears still crept into your mind, nevertheless.
“I bet Stevie enjoyed getting two hours of free beach access.”
Javier hummed in agreement, “She crashed on her bed as soon as we got home.”
You smiled to yourself as you molded your body against the side of his, wanting that skin-to-skin contact wherever you could get it. To hold onto him as tight as you could.
“Javier?”
“Hmm?” He ran his hand down your back. “What is it, baby?”
“We’re good, right?” You whispered so quietly you weren’t sure if he could even hear you or not.
Javier pulled you in even closer to him, wrapping both of his arms around you. “Of course we are, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead at your hairline. “You should go back to sleep. Two will get here soon.”
“Yeah.” You breathed out, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. How were you supposed to sleep, now that you had something new to worry about?
But even then, those worries felt muted in comparison to everything else.
107 notes
·
View notes
Note
"#listen i know exactly how these two meet and how they start dating and it's beautiful and i LOVE THEM" Please tell me everything!
(( in reference to the tags I made on this Ilia x Ashei art ))
HOO, BOY, OKAY - where to begin? A lot of this is going to be stuff that I didn’t really want to make a post about, because my hopes were that I would eventually write their meeting and eventual dating into a multi-chapter fic of sorts (called “Love & Horses,” and there’s good reason for that, I swear), but I struggle with writing enough as-is, and by the time I do (if ever) get around to it, this post will absolutely be lost to time - so, what the heck! Lemme gush a little bit. Some of this I’ve already written about in the description of this wedding piece I had commissioned, but I’ll expand on it a bit here. (Also, shoutout to @therealflurrin for inspiring a lot of this - we somehow fell in love with these two independently of one another, which just goes to show how much potential these two have. Spread the Iliashei love!)
So, what’s important to understand about Ashei (and this is all just my headcanon, of course) going into this is that she was raised alone by her father in the Hebra Mountains, with very sparse and sporadic human contact outside of him. As she says in-game, he was a “knight in his own right,” and he “taught [her] the arts of war as though [she] was his son” - he taught her how to wield a sword, but unfortunately for her, that was pretty much all he taught her. He was a troubled man haunted by the ghosts of his past, perhaps, but he was a terrible father, and when Ashei was only fifteen years old she bested him in battle and ran away from home. She was on her own for quite some time, surviving in the harsh wilderness of the frozen wilds, but she did so aimlessly; all she had was her sword, and with nowhere else to turn, she eventually found her way to Hyrule proper, choosing to enlist as a knight solely because she would have a roof over her head and some money in her pocket. She was only sixteen at the time - she lied and told them she was twenty - and when she bested every captain in the entire royal guard in a single evening, they agreed to take her in.
Another important thing to note is that Ashei’s arrival in Castle Town (and one particular encounter with Princess Zelda herself, but that’s a story for another time) awakens The Gay within her; she’s never really been around so many people before, let alone women her own age. This has some interesting side effects, namely that Ashei has no idea how to talk to or behave around women, and it plays into the first time she and Ilia (improperly) meet.
So, picture this: a short time after the events of the game, Ilia travels back to Castle Town to visit Telma, whom she bonded following her kidnapping and memory loss. Ashei is sitting in the bar, sipping on some ale, and she hears someone come in and begin chatting; she thinks nothing of it, of course, until she takes a quick little peak -
- and sees the most drop-dead gorgeous person she has ever seen in her entire life.
She panics. Face goes completely red, she hides her face in her hand, nearly drops her ale. Her fight her flight instincts kick in, and she chooses flight, rushing out of the bar before the girl can even notice her, let alone speak to her - and though it’s a few days before she can get the image of her out of her head, eventually things go back to normal, and Ashei finds comfort in the fact that she’ll probably never see that mystery girl again.
Except, y’know - she does. Because of course she does.
Fast forward a bit, Hyrule Castle is a still a mess of being rebuilt, and the people need something to keep their spirits up - so Zelda is like, f**k it! Dance time! An outdoor ball, in the afterglow of twilight, with food and live music and all what have you. Ashei attends in a full set of royal armor, complete with helm and all the fixings, as she’s only there on guard duty, but just as soon she thinks the night is going to end without incident, who do you think she sees sitting all alone, and does she looks slightly sad or is that a trick of the light, and oh my gods that dress is lovely, was it handmade, did she make it, and what are the chances she would see her again -
Ashei is still quite flustered, of course - only this time it’s different, because here, she isn’t herself. Here, she’s just a nameless solider among many - she could be anybody - and somehow, someway, she musters up her courage to approach the young woman…and offers her hand in dance.
And I think now would be a good time to talk about Ilia’s side of things; we know a lot more about her story, of course, but it’d probably be good to mention that, yes, she did love Link - and perhaps, once upon a time, he could have loved her, too, but after everything that happened, he was unable to readjust to life back in Ordon, and as we see in the final credits, he leaves, in a scene that tells us almost certainly that he only said goodbye to her. Ilia goes through quite a lot both during the game and in the months after; romance aside, Link has always been her closest friend, and suddenly he’s so distant from her. It’s difficult to handle, and as she watches him leave after a few months of struggling with this, with no idea of when or if he’ll return, I guess you could say that she fell out of love out of necessity; he was, and always will be, a very dear friend to her, but the weight of what had happened to both of them had changed them, and their relationship would never be exactly the same as it once was. It pains her - but she accepts it, and moves on.
So, Link is AWOL for a while, yeah? Ilia has a lot going through her mind, and like Ashei did before she found a good friend in Shad and a makeshift home in the Resistance, she feels aimless. On top of that, she’s still dealing with the trauma that being kidnapped had saddled her with, and what sticks with her the most is how helpless she felt waiting for someone else to save her. Then wouldn’t you know, one day she gets a letter from Telma inviting her to festivities to be held in Castle Town, and Ilia makes up her mind about something. She packs up her things…and sets off.
The night of the festival, Ilia does take the hand of that mysterious stranger - and as they dance it’s wonderful and magical and lovely and for a time she forgets all of her troubles, but before she can see their face or even learn their name they’re gone, leaving her wanting and curious. Some time passes, and the festivities come to and end; Ilia makes for Telma’s Bar, where Shad, Ashei, and Auru are unwinding from the night’s events. Telma introduces the younger woman to the gang, and Ashei almost begins to panic, before she realizes that Ilia would have no way of recognizing her, that Telma was just introducing them to a friend, that this would pass and be done with in no time at all, but then -
“I want to join the Resistance!”
And Ashei is just like,
Ah.
Ah, shit.
This post is getting rather long, so I’m gonna try to wrap things up here - but as you can imagine, hijinks ensue! Things reach a climax when Ilia insists that Ashei teach her how to fight, and Ashei lashes out and flat-out refuses in a burst of anger, which triggers an episode of “oh my god am I turning into my father oh f**k no” and sends her running, truly panicking this time; Ilia runs after her, of course, and when she finally finds her they get to talking. Ilia tells her that whatever it is that’s bothering her, she doesn’t have to open up about it now, or tomorrow, or any time soon, but if she ever wants to, she will be there to listen - and then Ilia opens up, about why she joined the Resistance, about her kidnapping and her scars and the horror she’s endured. She chooses to be vulnerable where Ashei cannot, and then suddenly the mood is lighter, and Ashei is sheepishly admitting that she couldn’t teach her how to fight because she likes her too much, gods be damned, and Ilia is joking about how she never knew she liked girls till now because there were none her age growing up in Ordon, and Ilia thought Ashei liked Shad and Ashei thought Ilia liked Link, except Shad doesn’t like women and Ashei doesn’t like men and Link has been gone for months now, and oh, aren’t they both so stupid - and then they hear music, and Ilia stands and offers Ashei her hand, and in that moment both of them know, y’know? Ashei still has a lot of stuff she’s got to work through, and it’s not going to be easy by any means, but for now, she can do this much - so she takes Ilia’s hand and the two of them dance into the night, pushing aside their worries till morning’s light.
Do the two of them start dating pretty much immediately? Yes. Do they love one another completely and utterly? Absolutely. Do they get married and is their wedding super, duper gay? You bet your ass it is.
There’s a lot more to this that I won’t get into here, including Link’s eventual return (after three years of being away!) and the aftermath of that, and the exact specifics of Ashei’s troubled history with her father and how being with Ilia helps her to heal from it. On the plus side, Bo becomes like the father that Ashei never had, and fun fact: the two like the arm wrestle! Like, a lot! (And Ashei sometimes lets him win.)
#twilight princess#loz tp#loz#iliashei#ashei#also thanks for asking!#getting this outta my system was really therapeutic!#anonymous#asks#my asks#ilia#bezu#headcanons#stupid post tag#myposts*
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think this is going to be a bit of a one shot series. There might be some time skips and not every chapter is a continuation of the same storyline. I like this better as if I ever go off writing this, you won’t be left on a cliffhanger. Every chapter has a complete story, so it’s also longer, which is a bonus.
There is a four year time skip. Apollo is now a fourth year.
My gold and black robes billowed behind me as I sprinted up another staircase and hung a left, barreling through some unfortunate first years as I made my way up to the hospital wing.
I’d began training with the Hogwarts matron in my first year, ever since I’d learned a particularly nifty healing spell that had popped a fellow student’s dislocated shoulder back into its rightful place. The Hogwarts matron had seen me and was impressed by my potential - and nearly four years later I was still being taught between classes. Today, they started at 1:55PM. It was now 2:15 (What? I had missed a staircase. Nothing to do with my poor awareness of schedules).
I readjusted my grip on my leather satchel and rushed past the little plump lady standing in the doorway of the hospital wing, smiling a greeting. She kept her ever-present stern facade intact as she shooed me inside.
“Don’t you be late next time young man, or I’ll be having a word to your father about your punctuality!” She called after me, slamming the door behind her. I smiled at the empty threat. There was no way she would tell my father about my secret lessons, or else both our heads would be on a stick. Headmaster Zeus had some pretty questionable ideology when it came to assigning genders to their copybook jobs. Nursing was a woman’s world, not a man’s.
I came to a halt at the trolly that overflowed with a mix of different overhanging herbs, anthropomorphised plants and some questionable-looking dried out slug-type creatures. Conical flasks hung suspended in the air, swishing their contents around in miniature whirlpools of colour. This, I’d been told, kept the contents oxygenated. The matron appeared beside me, her wrinkled features comparable to the severe expression of a weathered military general.
“Today is simple,” she barked. “Damage to the left arm due to a high fall. Broken humerus, dislocated shoulder, shattered clavicle. The patient is in bed A6. Collect what you need and do what you have to. No lollygagging!” She turned on her heel and marched to a patient who had managed to have the placement of their hands and feet switched. I stifled a grin. My younger brother, a third year Slytherin named Hermes, got a kick out of forging fake love-heart shaped chocolate boxes filled with enchanted candies and leaving them to be found by his unfortunate targets. His spells were never actually dangerous per se (however I would not put it past him. He is unnervingly clever), but they tended to land the non-willing participant in the hospital wing until the matron could figure out how to undo them, which was usually a few weeks. Hermes was a complete ferret of a person, and I always told him so, but he was undeniably good at his craft. I sniggered to myself. As soon as I worked out how to fix the enchantments, I’d have potential blackmail against my darling little brother. I planned to get him do give me something in exchange for me not immediately healing his targets and ruining his fun.
After choosing a few conical flasks and a vial of my experimental Skele-Gro (just in case) I jogged to bed A6 and slipped out my private notebook of healing spells from my satchel. As I flicked through the pages, I didn’t give the red-clad student a second look. It was just another reckless Gryffindor who had probably jumped from the astronomy tower for fun while testing out their friend’s levitating spell (that obviously hadn’t succeeded). I found the right page and set the notebook on the bedside table. Only then did I glance down at the the boy strewn on the bed. He was well-built and broad shouldered, even for a seventh year. His muddied, black hair was chopped in a military buzz cut, and his face and arms were littered with old and new scratches, some much deeper than the others. He wore the scarlet robes and leather armour of a Gryffindor Beater, though his uniform was torn and caked with mud and soaked through from the December rain. He looked like the definition of a stereotypical high school bully. His face held a permanent scowl. I gulped.
“Hey Ares,” I greeted weakly. His scowl deepened. I tried to ignore that. “Um, I just need to check your arm…” I edged around my older sibling like he was an angered boar, waiting to run me through with its horns. I all but hid behind my clipboard while I examined the twisted arm.
Let me be crystal clear with you, reader. I was not scared of my brother. He was violent and reckless, yes, but a coward. I knew that if he bothered me, I only needed to poke his shoulder and he’d be wailing for an hour. However, do you recall how I was trying to keep this little side gig a secret? For years I had been keeping track of the quidditch games and taking note when any of my siblings got injured in one, so I could avoid the hospital wing until they were healed. I was usually quite on top of the Hufflepuff games (as I was their seeker), and Artemis, who happened to be the seeker for the Gryffindor team, helped remind me when her matches were. If any of my dear half brothers or sisters found out that I was learning a ‘woman’s trade’, they’d either tell father (resulting in my death) or use what they’d found as blackmail, threatening to tell father if I did not do their dirty work (resulting in my drawn out, much more embarrassing death). Of course, there had been a few close calls and a few accidental slips of tongue. My best friend Meg (a first year Gryffindor that I had met back in September of this year, while she was stealing my bag) knew. So did my twin, Artemis, and my aforementioned brother, Hermes. I had sworn them all to secrecy, but I did not trust Tell-Tale Ares one little bit. I did not even know how I had forgotten today’s Gryffindor v Slytherin match, but it had crossed my mind that the corridors were emptier than usual.
I copied down useless bulletpoints on the clipboard, such as ‘broken arm’ and ‘ouch’, while my mind wandered down the dark paths of my anxiety, each thought more desperate and panicky than the last. What will father do when he finds out? Will he give me a lifetime of detentions? Will he expel me? Would my uncles and aunts step in? Probably not. Would I have to leave the country to go to a different wizarding school? Would I have to give up learning magic entirely? Will I-
“Apollo!” The matron hollered across the room at me. “Stop your clowning around! Treat the patient!” I wondered if she even knew Ares’ relation to me. My dad had so many kids with so many women that we were admittedly hard to keep straight, and I certainly did not act like Ares did. I was far more - how do I put this - refined.
Ares snickered at the matron’s tone.
“Stupid little Sunny can’t even do a girl’s job,” he taunted.
I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the task at hand.
“Okay,” I said, starting as I would with any other student. “I am going to use the Brackium Emendo charm to fix your humerus and clavicle. I assure you that I am well trained in this charm, otherwise I would not be allowed to practice it on students. I then have to-”
“Get on with it, Sunny.” Ares growled, his mood swinging faster than the Whomping Willow’s branches. Wanting to give him the best hospital experience ever and possibly convince him not to blab, I obliged in silence. My hopes of getting out scot free were demolished when I was straightening out the newly mended arm a few minutes later. “Dad’s gonna love this one, Sunny,” Ares grunted through the pain. His face was tense with restraint, his forehead glistening with sweat and rain from outdoors. “If you’re lucky, you’ll even make it onto the papers. ‘Loser Son Disappoints Dad Yet Again’. Yeah, that’ll be fun.” I tried my best to bite down on my tongue, let it wash over me. I tried not to get angry. I tried not to scream at Ares to shut his face, and I almost failed. Luckily, I was distracted.
BANG!
The hospital wing door flew open, and a young girl sprinted in, looking around wildly until her cat-eye glasses landed on me. I recognised her as the one and only, bag-stealing, meat-scoffing ragamuffin Meg McCaffrey. She, like Ares, was soaked to the skin, her lenses dotted with raindrops and steaming up from the indoor heat. She wore her red high tops over her uniform grey tights, an obvious infraction of the school dress code (the teachers had already given up, and she had only been here for just over three months, which I think sums her character up very well). Her black and red Gryffindor robes were wrapped around her torso in a useless attempt to keep in heat. We shared a look of dread.
“You can go,” I said defeatedly to the healed Beater, all the angry wind gone from my sails. Ares stood, sneered at me and sauntered out, flicking Meg in the head as he passed her. She hissed, which I thought was an appropriate response. I kept staring at the empty hospital bed, my eyes fixated on the dent in the mattress where Ares had lay, slowly inflating itself. I heard the loud squelching of wet shoes approach me. Meg appeared at my side.
“I’m sorry,” She muttered. “I didn’t realise he was injured enough to go to the hospital wing. I was too far up the stands. By the time I noticed he was already on his way.” She lowered her head. “I didn’t warn you in time.”
I sighed. “It’s quite alright, Meg. You weren’t to know about the extent of my father’s strictness. Thanks for trying so hard though. It means a lot.”
“I know what it’s like.”
I turned to face her. Her glasses were still steamed up, and I couldn’t see her eyes. The expression she wore was blank and unreadable. I wanted to know more, but I didn’t want to push too much. I simply asked, “Your father?”
“Step-father,” she replied plainly.
…
Meg scoffed down her eggs and bacon like there was no tomorrow. I sat between her and Artemis at the Hufflepuff table. This was an advantage to all of us. Artie and I got to eat where the rest of our family didn’t bother us and Meg got to inspire terror into the meek Hufflepuff first years with her champion eating skills. Win-Win. Also, it was good to have two bodyguards from a house that was known for being protective and rash after the proceedings of yesterday afternoon. The enchanted roof was dull and grey with clouds, a reflection of my tense and dreading mood. I was awaiting the call to go to my father’s office, where my sentence would be given. Needless to say, I was not excited.
Nothing happened at breakfast. No word at lunch. By the time dinner rolled around at 6pm, I was almost gaining a little ray of hope that Ares had forgotten, or maybe held back in order to threaten me with it later. Then all conversation died around me at the Hufflepuff table. A low, gruff voice sounded from behind me, making me jump a metre and drop my fork.
“Apollo.”
My stomach sank to my feet while my heart leapt to my mouth. I turned to meet the stone chiselled, bearded face of Headmaster Zeus.
“Sir,” I squeaked.
“My office. After dinner. Do not be late.” He moved on to the teacher’s table at the back of the hall, leaving me pale and faint, unable to eat another bite of chicken pie without feeling like I was going to hurl, despite Artie and Meg’s attempts to reassure me.
Dinner ended so much quicker than it needed to. Students and teachers started filtering out as soon as 6:45. By 7, the hall was practically empty except for a couple of teachers and some Gryffindors, who were celebrating their quidditch win against Slytherin. I knew my time was running out. Father had stomped out a few minutes ago, glaring holes into me as he passed. Meg and Artie had stayed with me, but even now they seemed to be on edge about my punctuality. They wanted me to go and get things over with, while I just wanted the ground to swallow me. But eventually, even I could not make up another excuse. I stood and bade them farewell, then made my way towards my executioner on the seventh floor.
Reaching the headmaster’s tower had never been so exhausting. Every step reminded me of what and who I was waltzing toward. Questions burned through my head, demanding attention. I ignored them and instead focused on striding briskly through the hallways, trying my best not to get lost and be even later. I turned a corner and saw the gargoyle entrance to the office awaiting my arrival. The regal stone eagle had already leapt aside, the rotating staircase revealed. I stepped on and waited. The grinding of stone against stone grated my ears as the the stairs moved up the walls. It was an agonising wait. But of course, it ended.
I stepped into the silent office. It was small enough, but not cramped. Certainly smaller than father’s office at home. It was a round room, decorated with waist-high pedestals that held marble busts of past headmasters. The left wall had a large rectangular indent in the stone, which showed shelves that were stacked neatly with different objects, some I recognised as my father’s belongings (a bronze shield carved with the twisted face of Medusa and some bronze rods - his renowned enchanted lightning bolts), and some of which had obviously been confiscated - a stack of chocolate boxes that glowed a dim green (Hermes’ little experiments), a bunch of sharp iron weaponry, enchanted to drip blood and gore (Ares’ favourite toys) and a bottle of Dio’s Delectable Delight (an alcoholic drink made by my Gryffindor first year brother, Dionysus, that gave a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors sick with poisoning while they were having a drink-off between the houses. I remember because I had to treat them all).
At the back of the room, behind an intricately carved wooden desk, sat my father.
He was a six foot five giant of a man, muscular and powerful. His middle age eye creases and greying black hair did not distract from his obviously handsome features. His salt and pepper beard covered the bottom half of his face, and reached down to the base of his throat. His hair was long and slightly wavy, like mine, but less flamboyant and stylish. He wore a smart grey pinstriped suit, with dress shoes and a black tie. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed in anger over his striking blue eyes. He gestured to the small wooden seat opposite him.
“Sit,” he commanded. I sat. My palms were damp with sweat, so I rubbed them on my robes and folded my hands in my lap, fidgeting and changing their position constantly. My head was lowered and my golden hair swept down the side of my face, blocking my peripheral vision. I locked my sight onto a dark circle on the table before me. I could feel my fathers stormy eyes on my seemingly insignificant frame.
His voice thundered; “You know why you are here.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously and chanced look up into the eyes of my father. They were a bright electric blue, and seemed to flash a warning, daring me to speak out of place. I looked down again.
“Yes, sir,” I muttered.
Zeus leaned over the table. It made a loud creak, and I wondered whether or not it would be able to support his weight.
“Do you know who told me?”
I nodded. “It was Ares. I healed him after the quidditch match yesterday.”
“Then you know that he is not innocent either.”
I looked up at him again, confused as to why I had not been zapped yet. He seemed to be…giving me a chance? No, that was impossible. And yet…
“Sir?” I asked, daring to ask for some clarification. Zeus narrowed his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair, increasing his height. His hands rested on the desk, his fingers laced like a top boss talking down to his lowly employee.
“I wanted to expel you,” he growled. “You embarrass my family tree time and time again. I need solid proof that you belong here. Unfortunately, I cannot put you to work as I would like. The ministry would never allow it. However, I have a different task in mind.”
I held my breath and waited for the verdict of my disproportionate offence. “Impress me.”
“W-what?” I spluttered, choking on the air I’d been holding in. Impress him? Him? My father? The most powerful wizard in my extensive family that could harness lightning? “How?”
“I don’t care for specifics, boy” Zeus scoffed, waving off my question. “This is a magic school, is it not? Prove you have ability. Prove to me that you are not just some filthy squib, destined to become a nanny. Such beings do not deserve to be called my son. If you succeed, which I doubt, you may continue with your hobby. If not…” He left it to me to fill in the blanks, which was almost worse. I just knew my imagination was going to run wild with that unfinished sentence. “You have until the Christmas holidays begin. Do not disappoint me.” He leaned back in his chair. This meeting was Over.
…
“He didn’t expel you?” Artemis exclaimed, looking mildly impressed. “Not even a little zap?”
“No! It was…very unlike him.”
“So you got off easy then,” Meg piped up through her breakfast, spraying me with bacon bits. “That’s good.”
“If you count vague instructions to show off to a guy that has the emotional range of a teaspoon as simple, then sure!” - I glared at Meg - “I got off easy.” Meg rolled her eyes and went back to licking the runny yolk off her sunny side up. I thought that to be selfish. I was the one in peril here! “The deadline is the holidays! We get off on the twenty-first of this month, and it’s already the third! Not to mention that I have the concert on the last day! How am I supposed to learn how to gain fathers respect in seventeen days?”
“Maybe you should start by thanking mother,” Artemis mused. “She is the one who got him to lighten up.”
I looked at my twin questioningly. “How did she know?”
Artie rolled her eyes and Meg snorted a laugh, spewing out half of the contents in her mouth onto the table.
“Honestly Ollie, do you ever listen?”
“No,” Meg sniggered, answering for me.
“I wrote a letter to mother about the whole predicament right after I heard about it. I got her response at lunch yesterday. I gave you her letter to read so you would calm down.”
“What? No you didn’t!”
“Uh, yeah, she did,” Meg mocked in an ‘obviously’ tone. “Check your pocket, dummy.”
I reached into my robe pocket and drew out a few items; a keyring, a harmonica and a folded up piece of parchment. Meg snatched the parchment from my hand and unfolded it roughly, then slammed it on the table in front of me. The ink was fashioned in neat cursive.
“Read it,” Meg stated. I picked it up and scanned down the lines.
Dearest Apollo,
I sincerely hope you are feeling better than yesterday. Artemis wrote to me about what happened. I wanted to tell you not to fret, for I am on my way to purchase a howler as I speak - the quill is writing for me. Please do not worry, darling. Your sister and I will not let that man touch a hair on your head, and from what you have told me about your new friend, Meg, I suspect she will help you too.
The letter went on, more reassurances, more threats at Zeus, more pet names. Yes, this would have helped yesterday. If I had not been so numb to the world around me and taken the time to actually read it. The letter ended;
Love you, Sunshine!
~Leto
“Oh,” I said dumbly, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I didn’t see that.”
“Yeah, no duh.”
“Shut up Meg.”
I remembered my mother fixing this kind of problem for me before. When I first arrived at Hogwarts, I had been sorted into Hufflepuff - what my father called The Weak House. The Friendly House. The house that none of his children should be put in, especially because he was such a model Slytherin, the house known for storming through the door first, instead of the house known for holding the door open for others. My father had gotten yellow on his ledger, and wanted to wipe it out. My mother shouted him down, and I kept my place in Hogwarts.
A new voice spoke calmly behind me.
“Begin with the library. Information is the starting point of all wisdom.” I spun around. Standing there was the tall, lean form of a seventh year Ravenclaw. Her dark brown hair was gathered into a tight bun on her head, and her arms clutched several dusty old rolls of parchment. Her grey eyes peered down her nose at us. The sapphire and obsidian robes she wore sat perfectly on her form, and her tucked in shirt and neat tie was exemplary of a Head Girl and Prefect - the badges of both gleamed on her lapel. Athena held herself with pride and confidence, knowing well that she was smarter, more privileged and generally better than the rest of us (read: Daddy’s Favourite). She knew rightly that whatever she did, she was untouchable. Thankfully, her freedom included helping me. “I can get you on the list for the restricted section. It is going to take some light-show to get on father’s good side. And,” - she smiled cockily - “some hard work and research.” Of course.
“So you aren’t really going to help me then?” Athena said nothing, but only smiled before turning on her heel and striding out of the hall to her first class. I rolled my eyes. Turning to my teammates, I announced; “I guess it’s just the three of us, then! No worries, I am positive that if we all work together-”
“-Actually Ollie,” Artie interrupted, totally stomping on my Inspiring Speech Hero Moment. “I have a load of stuff to do…with Orion. So…yeah,” she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. I tried to ignore the blush forming on her cheeks. She gained confidence and stated; “I will not be around a lot this month. Sorry.” My beloved twin stood abruptly and rushed out of the hall.
Naturally. The one time she gets a teeny crush, she abandons me to do my own dirty work. How rude. I was not fond of that tricky fifth year Slytherin boy, and let me tell you, I planned to get rid of him. But that was for later. Right now, I needed to stay on task. Though looking at my only remaining teammate, who was currently showing her chewed-up food to a grossed out Hufflepuff girl, I wondered if that was even worth doing.
…
“This is so boring!” Meg lay with her feet up a against a bookcase, tapping her toes together as she flung another priceless book into the Useless Pile.
“Meg, you aren’t even helping. You’re just looking at the pictures!”
“Even those are dull,” she whined. “It’s so late and the Gryffindor dorms are sooo far from here.”
“It’s only seven o’clock, Meg.”
“It’s dark!”
“It’s winter!”
“Shhhhhhh!” The librarian hushed for the umpteenth time that evening. I whispered our apologies and kept reading about turning people into birds of prey. However I did not think that giving my father another eagle would suffice. I too, chucked my book onto the Useless Pile. It was now the sixth of December, giving me exactly two weeks until the last day school before the holidays.
“Right,” Meg announced, “I’m going back to the greenhouses. Good luck, or whatever.” She grabbed her wand and stuck her hands in her pockets, then disappeared into the maze of the library, leaving me alone in favour of checking on her secret karpos friend Peaches in the herbology classroom.
I sighed. Admitting defeat for the night, I grabbed a thick book I had read many times before. The leather bound book was emblazoned with silver text in ancient greek, a language every member of my family was fluent in, and I was no different. The title read ‘θεός’. I flicked through the weathered pages. Every chapter was a different relation, introduced with a detailed portrait - It was a family tradition to get one done one your twenty-first birthday, when you are your in prime stage of life. I saw my father’s, my uncles’ and my aunts’ portraits, and stopped at the chapter entitled ‘Hecate’. Her mother was sisters with my own mother, making her my first cousin. She was extremely experienced in charms and transfiguration, one of the best witches in the business. I figured I needed some inspiration, so I sidled through the mess of ancient greek and scribbled diagrams. I found that her specialty was inventing new spells. Then I came across a very interesting quote from some guy named Hesiod who had wrote a different book:
“Zeus, Cronus’ son, honoured [Hecate] above all others: he gave her splendid gifts - to have a share of the earth and of the barren sea, and from the starry sky as well she has a share in honour.”
My eyes lit up. That’s exactly what I needed. Well, maybe father wouldn’t ‘honour me above all others’, but he might at least give me a pat on the back, and to get that from my father would be good enough for me. Inspiration struck as I slammed the book shut and began my hunt for any information that might be of help.
By ten o’clock, I had been chased out of the library and back to the Hufflepuff dorms. I went to sleep cosy and content, knowing that all I needed to do now was invent a new spell.
Apparently, this is harder than it sounds. Drat. Even thinking of a new spell took me all Sunday, but at least there was no classes. Meg and I spent all day outside by the lake, sitting underneath a laurel tree while I poured over a seemingly endless stack of books, eliminating spell ideas as I saw them mentioned. I knew I wanted something flashy, something I could add into my concert - which was a great opportunity to show it off in front of the whole school. But alas, as I crossed off ‘self playing violin spell’ I began to loose the inspirational buzz I’d started the task with. Meg leaned over and swiped my list of possible spells from my lap.
“‘Poetry generator spell’? Really?”
“Gah! I don’t know!” I wailed, waving my arms desperately and throwing down my quill in defeat. “I can’t think of anything else! There is not a single spell out there that has not already been created!”
I slumped back against the tree and sighed, watching Meg make a dandelion grow with ten times the regular speed. She had a real knack for herbology and garden magic, just like I did for divination. Divination class had never steered me wrong, especially because the professor is my grandmother, Phoebe, who says I’ve inherited her talent. I had stayed behind after class last Friday to ask Professor Phoebe about the future outcome of my little trial, and she’d told me to grab a crystal ball and see for myself. All I had gotten was the mist in the ball turning gold.
I glanced over to the lake where my uncle Poseidon was lobbing fish for the giant squid. He was wearing his usual attire; a loud Hawaiian shirt and tan kakis with loafers and his signature fishing cap, even in the cold winter weather. As his bucket emptied, he turned to stroll back into the castle when we locked eyes. Noticing my distress, he ambled on over to us, his hands in his pockets and his kind, sea-green eyes twinkling.
“I heard you’re in a bit of hot water with my dear little brother again, Apollo.”
I blew out my cheeks in exasperation and slumped even further down the tree, making Poseidon chuckle. “I know the feeling.”
“He’s impossible!”
“What have you got so far?”
I handed him my list of possible spells, which he read through with careful consideration.
“I want to invent a new spell for dad. Like Hecate did. But every spell is already taken! There’s nothing to invent!”
Poseidon scratched his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully.
“Well, when people want to sell a product, they usually want the product to solve problems.”
“So?”
“So what problems - besides the whole ‘Impress Zeus’ chore - do you have that can’t be solved with magic right now?”
I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration.
“I have a gig on the last day of class. I have this one song prepared that requires a whole congregation of different instruments, and I still can’t find anyone else with the mere skill set to play with me, so I had to enchant the whole orchestra to play itself. There’s no backup singers either, since all the muses are doing their own parts, and if they play every single song they’ll be exhausted.” I huffed. “Mnemosyne remembered her girls coming home to her in first year after the concert, and she banned them from doing it again. And she never goes back on a rule.”
“Enchanted backup dancers,” Meg snorted. Poseidon raised an eyebrow at my young friend, smirking at her humour.
“Yes,” I mumbled, my mind running at full speed, giving me the ideas and inspiration I had spent a week looking for. “Yes, that could work.” I grabbed my quill and ripped out a new piece of parchment and began scribbling like a madman, muttering and blocking out everything in my peripheral vision.
“Well!” I heard Poseidon say, his voice retreating and getting more distant. “Glad I could help.”
“Don’t Bother,” Was that Meg? I couldn’t tell, I wasn’t paying attention. “He’s gonna be in that trance for hours.”
…
It was 9pm on the eighteenth of December. Exactly seventy-two hours until the concert began. I stood in an empty classroom that was packed with grimy wooden crates that had probably been there for years. A few of the stacked crates acted as Meg’s high throne, where she proceeded to look down upon myself, who trying feebly to summon my incantation. I glanced yet again at my jotter, which was propped open on top of a crate to my left. On it was my scrawled notes on my new spell: the Golden Charmer. The incantation words were translated into ancient greek: Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες, or, Chryseae Celedones. Their purpose was to act as my backup group, to sing, dance and play whatever I asked of them. They amplified my own voice, but in any voice type (tenor, soprano, bass, you name it) or gender that I pleased. They were also supposed to have a golden form, but so far, I had only accomplished a yellow wisp protruding from the end of my wand.
“Be more magic,” Meg suggested unhelpfully before stuffing another fistful of popcorn in her gob. I rolled my eyes, turned back to the empty room, set my jaw and tried again. I pointed my wand at my voice box, uttered “Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες!” and flicked my wrist until the wand tip was pointed away from me. I then drew a steady line downwards with my wand, the golden mist following in its wake and sculpting itself until a beautiful apparition stood before us, casting out warm light and an aura of grace. Her detailed face held an impassive expression, like she could just as quickly bare her teeth in a growl as she could in a smile. Her sleeveless dress was draped across her shoulders and flowed majestically down to the floor. Her hair was folded in a loose bun on her head, the fibres drooping but far from messy or unkempt. She was perfect. I could feel my heart rate rise unnaturally with unbound excitement. I had done it!
Meg, whose mouth was hanging open and spilling chewed kernels all over the place, quickly shut her trap and made an effort to look unimpressed.
“Does it work?”
I glared at her, thinking about that bat-bogey hex Hermes had just taught me, and how many times I would get to use it on my young friend by the end of the school year.
“I just invented a charm, Miss McCaffrey. Can you be impressed for a little bit before ruining my fun?”
“Nope,” she stated, twisting to lie upside-down on her crate, her glasses falling up to her forehead. “Get her to sing.”
I sighed. Tapping my wand on a crate for the golden being’s attention (which was most likely unnecessary, but still, delightfully dramatic), I held my hands up like a conductor with my wand as his baton. The Celedon sang in tune to my gestures.
“Aaaaaaaaaah!”
I smirked at Meg, deciding I had every right to be cocky. The celedon’s voice was pristine. It carried brilliantly, and was as clear as day.
“Are you just gonna conduct, then?” Meg asked. “Like, you’re not actually singing?”
“No, no, no. I’m singing and playing violin for this particular piece,” I said, loosing a bit of my confidence. Did the Celedons need me to conduct them? If so, id just created a whole new problem. “I’m sure if I just…” I turned once again to the Celedon and cleared my throat. “Ahem. Celedon, sing Greensleeves.” Thank the heavens, it seemed to understand. She burst into a rendition of the mournful tune. Meg’s eyes turned glassy with tears that threatened to fall, her soul plunged into the despair of loosing a loved one. I, on the other hand, felt the sound was empty. It was good, yes. But it could be better. I held a hand up for the spell’s sound to cease. It obeyed.
Meg stared at me, wiping her eyes. “Why’d you stop?”
“One moment…” I performed the spell’s gesture thrice more (now knowing the correct way to cast the spell), and soon had a quartet of golden women before me, awaiting my command. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” This time, the song was flawless. The first Celedon took the lead, while the other three vocally danced around the first’s notes, emphasising the main tune. Even I had a tear in my eye by the end. I was glad I had soundproofed this classroom beforehand, or I might have reduced the transfiguration class down the hall into a sobbing wreck.
“Ah ha!” I exclaimed. “Fantastic!” My mind raced for something else I could give them to do. “Uhhh…here! Try this! Accio violin!”
Whoosh - craSH.
A violin smashed through a window, and flew into my open hand.
“Couldn’t you have just went and got your violin?” Asked Meg. “I thought the Hufflepuff dorms were like, a floor down from here.”
“Pizzaz, Meg.”
“You’re dumb.”
I handed a Celedon the violin and announced; “Celedon, play Swan Lake.” But instead of Tchaikovsky’s magical piece, a sound not unlike a spiteful cat dragging its claws down a chalkboard screeched from the instrument. Meg fell off her wooden throne in surprise, clutching her ears and screaming at the charm to stop. The Celedon, obviously not used to being hated on by twelve year olds (despite her limited existence time) paused her torturous tune and glared holes into the red-clad preteen. After the ringing in my ears subsided, stared into space wearily, knowing that I now needed to teach a spell to play expert level violin. And I had less than three days.
…
I tugged nervously on my blazer sleeve as Calliope finished up her last song. I had decided to wear my usual house uniform, but instead of the cloak, I had donned a sharp black blazer with a bright yellow lapel. I smiled at my half-sister as she jogged offstage and joined me behind the great hall’s doors.
“You’re up next, Ollie,” Calliope panted, her sweat dampening her brow and coming through the folds of her stylised Ravenclaw-blue t-shirt dress. Black skin-tight jeans clung to her legs and her socks had sunk below the rim of her pastel pink converse boots. She grappled blindly for her water bottle before dumping the contents on her face and chugging the rest of it. Her wavy caramel hair straightened and darkened under the weight of the water. Cal and I were the main participators in each year’s Christmas concert. And every other concert at the end of a school term. She had just finished her version of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, and just before that, had sang a variation of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ with me and her other eight sisters. She had also sang the song before that, and after three songs with hardly a break, she was rightfully exhausted. No wonder her mother had banned her from playing every song (a rule that my mother had belatedly decided to enforce on me too). Once she caught her breath, Calliope straightened up and patted me on the shoulder. “I hope this last one goes well for your sake, Ollie.”
I blew out my cheeks. “Me too.”
“It’s not a Christmas song though, right?”
“No, It just packs a punch. I wanted something that could really wow someone, y’know?”
Calliope nodded solemnly. “Of course. No one can do that with ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’.”
I knew she’d get it. Still, from behind the doors to the great hall where the tables had been cleared and a stage set up, I questioned every decision I had made leading up to this moment. Every face in the crowd was blurred together, but somehow I could easily see my father, reclining in his chair and glaring at the empty stage as if that would make the acts happen faster. I was terrified, and I do not get stage fright. I love being the centre of attention, especially when it’s for something I’m brilliant at. I did not doubt my own ability to put on a show. I only doubted my ability to read my father.
But of course, that did not matter. I had to start anyways.
As I sauntered out and onto the stage, I felt the heat of the room smack me dead in the face. The chatter of the crowd lowered to a mumble. I turned from my spectators and waved my wand at the hoard of unmanned instruments packed at the back of the stage, which sprung to life and readied their first notes. I then turned to my side and muttered “Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες!”. Twice before turning to my other side and doing the same again. I now stood between four Golden Charmers, readily holding matching violins. I silently prayed they had picked up the song I had attempted to teach them. Anything could’ve gone wrong at that point, and I could do nothing about it. I heard gasps and mutters go up from the students, but did not dare look. They may have been laughing - or something worse. Instead I focused on grabbing my own violin - whistling a single low note to signify that I was starting - and played.
As soon as my bow hit the strings, I felt the adrenaline flood my being, filling every bone in my body. I was no longer apprehensive. This was the feeling I lived for, and I intended to let it take over. My fingers flew across the strings, and at just the right moment, the Celedons joined in with perfect synchronisation. Everything was going to plan. The operatic voices of the Celedons joined the choir, singing along with the notes. “Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!”
The first verse arrived and the Celedones ceased their play, as planned. I continued with my violin, belting out the lyrics with all my heart and soul. The instruments gradually picked up, and I sang louder and louder, summoning all the melancholy I could muster. I could feel my musical magic making the audience break into tears. The exhilaration fuelled me. I could feel no exhaustion.
As soon as the last note evaporated, I felt my energy drain, my shoulders and head suddenly becoming a lot heavier. I wanted to heave for breath, but I simply could not allow myself to do so while still onstage! So I shortened my breath to what I hoped was normal, and not a person who had just ran several marathons back to back. My brow and torso were sticky with sweat and I had the urge to rip off my blazer for some relief from the overwhelming heat. I could hardly hear the applause that had erupted until I actively forced myself to listen. I was too busy scanning the audience to soak up the praise, but my eyes only landed on the unreadable, impassive expression of the headmaster.
…
I would have liked to be able to truthfully say that I spent most of the night celebrating the deadline of my trial and the end of the term with the muses, my twin, and all my good friends, partying to Pompeii by Bastille until the little hours of the morning, not bothering to concern myself with past mistakes or future hardships, drink too much butter beer and pass out on the Hogwarts Express the next morning. You know, the good life. But alas, that was not the case. For one, we were told to trot off to bed right after my final song, which was only a couple of minutes past ten o’clock, and warned that our heads of houses would be checking that we were all asleep by ten-thirty. If we were not, we would receive a detention for the first day back.
However, I still attempted to force my way through the swamp of students making their way to the doors so I could talk to my father, and perhaps get some clarification on my fate. However, my plans were spoiled when I couldn’t get past a particularly moody cow.
“Bed, Goldilocks!” Hera commanded, her hatred for any children of Zeus that were not hers abundantly present in her poison tipped words. “That husband-stealing mother of yours may cause Zeus to lighten his punishments, but don’t think for a second that I will have any displeasure in seeing you in detention for the rest of your years at this school!”
I leaned past her and searched around, not really taking in her threats (this is a common and practised reaction to children of Zeus), and tried once again to slip past her.
“I just need to talk to father real quick, then I promise I will be out of your…” I glanced up at her. “rapidly greying hair. Won’t be a moment.” At that second, Hera grabbed my wrist and yanked me backwards, almost pulling my shoulder from its socket. She sneered down at me, bearing her teeth and pointing to the exit. I realised it was not worth my trouble. I huffed and, turning on my heel, strode back to the Hufflepuff common room.
If nothing else, being in the common room was always a nice experience. The whole place radiated a calm laziness, the ever-burning fire in the fireplace keeping the temperature cozy in winter months. The low ceilings were just above ground level, so the highest windows let in the sweet smell of cut grass towards the end of the school year. A few older students were lounging on the comfortable yellow sofa facing the mantelpiece and the dozen beanbags scattered throughout the room. These were the students who were staying over the winter break, and had few concerns over the timing of their retirement to bed. Some congratulated me on my performance. A couple gave a thumbs-up and nothing more - I returned these with an added smile, of course. I took a crumb of shortbread (which I had stuck out of the kitchen on the way to the dorms) out of my pocket and tossed it to Badger, the friendly mouse who lay reclined on one of the low tables in the centre of the room (I had found him in first year and the whole Hufflepuff house had unanimously adopted him as our secret mascot). Then I slipped through the rounded, honey-gold wooden door that lead to the boy’s dorms and threw myself onto my mattress.
Was I off the hook? Did I pass the test? Did father approve? Did he hate it? It looked like he hated it. Why is it always me who’s on the wrong side of father? Would it have been different if I was in Gryffindor? Is that why he hates me? Does he hate me?
Fathers words rang in my head. “If you succeed, which I doubt, you may continue with your hobby. If not…” WHAT DID HE MEAN BY “IF NOT”? What did that IMPLY? Does it mean detention, expulsion or worse? Should I be terrified?
…
Why was I still worrying? Everything was out of my hands. I had done my best.
…
…
…
BUT WHAT IF-
The anxieties didn’t cease all night. I do not know when I finally managed to drift off.
…
I hurriedly stuffed my trunk full of the belongings I would need for the two week break. Artie and I were staying with our mother on Delos for the duration of the holiday, and I did not intend to miss the train. When all my things were safely tucked away, I slammed the trunk shut and hauled it out of the dorms and through the earthen exit of the Hufflepuff common room, bidding my farewells to the few students who were staying.
Due to my late night worries, I had woken up late and already missed breakfast, so I took the obvious solution to a Hufflepuff. I lay down my trunk at the end of the corridor and tickled the pear - the entrance painting to the kitchens.
I left ten minutes later, licking my fingers which were sticky from strawberry juice and greek yogurt. The house elves had been grudgingly generous, having just finished cleaning up for the winter. Smirking as they chased me out of the kitchen, I grabbed my trunk and began dragging it up the stairs and towards the castle grounds. Halfway there, I ran into a slight problem. Well, we kind of ran into each other.
The headmaster, my father, stood in all his muscular, bulking glory, blocking the way to freedom. He looked as authoritative as always, his grey-streaked beard and hair well-kept and neat, his navy suit and tie clean and imposing, his eyes a sharp shade of piercing blue. I backed off a few steps and tried for a chill smile, but I had a strong feeling that it looked more like a pained grimace. Father straightened his back, rolled back his shoulders and rumbled;
“So. You made… a singing spell.”
I gulped down the bile that was fighting its way up my throat. I hated the way he oversimplified things. It made all my achievements look so much smaller in comparison to their real gargantuan importance. For instance, take that time I recorded a mashup of myself and the muses singing to hit tracks in howlers, and installed the howlers in between walls - our own in-built speaker system! Genius! Unfortunately, a few party-poopers (cough, Athena, cough) complained and had father tell me to ‘Take the paper planes back’, which, frankly, is an utterly ridiculous understatement of the hard work and effort put into that project. But the past is the past. In the present, Zeus was still waiting for an answer.
Oh reader, I so desperately tried to tell him of the wondrous things even a single Charmer could accomplish! They were not merely singing spells! They could entertain, play for those who were lonely, fill vacancies in choirs or orchestras in emergency last-minute cancellations! They could solve more problems for a showman than there are notes on sheet music!
But Zeus would have none of it. He stopped me halfway through my righteous rant. Rude.
“Enough,” he commanded somewhat wearily, holding one hand up for silence and rubbing his temple with another. “It is too early for your passionate outbursts.” I may have pouted slightly at that. It’s not important. Zeus regained some of his intimidating authority and continued, “I have already decided the outcome.” I knew it. I was expelled, I was dead I was- “You were not at breakfast. I was on my way to your common room to inform you of your success before you depart.”
My face paled. I dropped my heavy trunk with a loud thump.
“My… success?”
Zeus grunted.
“Yes. It was… a good show. Many staff and students were moved to tears. That would be the sort of reaction I cannot ignore in my decision making. Spells are typically not simple to create from scratch. And to have seen someone pull such things off in a few short weeks was…” he paused, considering the right word to use. He begrudgingly settled on: “…impressive.”
Let me tell you, if I had still been holding onto my trunk, I would have dropped it all over again. I swallowed, struggling to process a compliment coming from the lips of the toughest, most powerful wizard in the family. My heart was buzzing, my head was light, my breathing was uneven (though I tried my best to hide it). My brain worked overtime to somehow comprehend these impossible words. Impressive. Dad…impressed. I was impressive. I had done something worth being impressed over. For him. He was impressed. Eventually I managed to croak a measly “Thank you.”
It could’ve been me hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I saw the slightest smirk underneath the greying beard, and a minuscule spark of pride in those electric eyes.
“Ten points to Hufflepuff.”
@psychologymademeunderstand @go-danielle
#Hogwarts au#toa#trials of apollo#trials of Apollo au#my au#apollo#meg mccaffrey#pjo#artemis#zeus#athena#hermes#Poseidon#writing#fanfiction#fanfic#story
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello previous anon here who send you prompt that you put title "love square rejected" here is my request prompt. An AU where adrien and marinette is married but 1day lila came to adrien life to steal him from marinette. She(lila) will do anything to get her adrien no matterwhat even erasing his memory. Ofcourse in the end marintte will die. (I am sorry i am suck in english. This is not my 1st language anyway Just make more angst between mari and adrien hehe)
Hi Anon, that’s right, I remember!
It’s just-… That’s an awfully specific prompt? I mean, I wrote it, sure, but I don’t really like antagonizing Lila like that? She doesn’t really give me a reason to dislike her, the character itself, I mean, and even in an AU I find it really hard to make her a villain?
Anyway, I wrote something and I hope you like it regardless.
(Also, a little advice to you and all other followers who wanna request something:I’m always linking the two prompt lists under my prompts. It’s a thousand times easier to write to a number + ship suggestion than to such a detailed storyline that gives me little room to really write but rather work off plot points. That being said, I’d appreciate if you could check the lists out and send me a number + ship suggestion with a little idea in which direction it should go ;P And a please would also be nice after all I’m writing something for you)
Ao3 / FF.net
“Aaaaaaand,action!”
Marinette groaned as she sleepily reached out to the other side ofthe bed.
“Mmmmh Adrien?”, she mumbled, not bothering to keep her eyes opensince her eyelids were too heavy, “Adrien… Please… Emma’s crying…”
The cries of the baby sounded eerie in the dark night butMarinette was used to it. Normally she got up just fine just-… Today, her legswouldn’t move.
“Adrieeeeeeeen…”, she whined, now finally opening her eyes with asigh as her hand still patted over the empty mattress. He couldn’t lay this faraway from her…
Instantly, her mind switched to worried as she didn’t find Adrienon his side but still heard Emma crying. Was he having problems with the baby?With another groan she sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed and yawningbefore standing up. She swayed and caught herself on the wall in front of her,furrowing her eyebrows. She was feeling dizzy and uncoordinated. But she hadn’thad any alcohol in the evening, she was still breastfeeding.
Hm, maybe just her circulation, that could happen sometimes.
She took a minute to steady herself, then slowly straightened up.Somehow, she felt drugged but that couldn’t be. Emma’s cries still soundedthrough their apartment and she slowly inched towards the door, rubbing hereyes while walking on shaky feet.
“Mmmh, don’t worry, sweetie, Maman’s on her way.”, she huffed,then tried again after another glance back to the empty bed, “Adrien, are youalready with her?”
Leaning against the doorframe she listened into the hallway.Emma’s cries began sounding weird and instantly, Marinette’s worry woke her upentirely. Sleepy or not, she was a mother and her baby needed her. With fasterbut still wobbly steps she walked down the hallway, reaching the nursery theyhad made for Emma. One glance into the dark room made an icy shiver run downher spine.
Adrien wasn’t here.
She stepped inside and to the crib to look down at her daughter.The infant screamed and cried, somehow in weirdly high-pitched tones so shequickly reached inside and lifted her up, laying her against her shoulder tocuddle her tightly and bounce her up and down a bit to calm her.
“Shh, shh, kitten, Maman’s here. I’m here, sweets, I’m here, noneed to cry, shh…”
The baby only slowly calmed down, to the point where hiccups shookthe little baby, until then Marinette was fully awake and had shaken off theheavy feeling. With careful steps she explored their apartment, the babysecurely pressed against her chest. Adrien was nowhere to be found.
Now scared she jogged back into their bedroom, about to grab herphone and call him but before she could reach her nightstand she stepped onsomething. It cracked and suddenly a hot pain stung up her leg, causing her tocry out. In an instant, Emma began crying again and she softly placed herdaughter securely in the middle of their bed before switching on Adrien’s lampon the nightstand to inspect what had hurt her.
Dimmed light enabled her to kneel down on the floor and make out ashattered syringe, small glass shards lying embedded in the carpet.
With furrowed eyebrows she sat back and looked down to her barefoot, grimacing at the blood she saw on her sole.
But before her mind could even switch to caring for her wound herhead shot up, realizing what’s happened here. Adrien and her went to bed in theevening after bringing Emma to bed. He wasn’t here anymore and she found asyringe on the floor. She felt drugged when she woke up.
Oh-… Oh god…
With a swift movement she sat on the edge of the bed again, onehand finding to her daughter’s stomach to calm them both again but also to makesure she was still there. The baby still cried but it had turned into softsniffling and helpless flailing.
After she was sure Emma would be okay she grabbed her phone andcalled the police.
“And you’re sure he’s not just run off? I dunno, maybe he had a weirdvibe in the middle of the night and just had to-…”, Alya made a helplessgesture with her hands, “… Go?”
Marinette sighed tiredly, shaking her head while leaning back onher best friend’s couch.
“Alya, I already told you, I stepped into a syringe on the floor.He left his phone there and nothing of his clothes is missing. Plus, we had togive up our career for Emma months ago and we both don’t miss it. I doubt the urgeto-… I dunno, go out at night hunting stayed. It’s-… It’s just so obvious…”
“I know, I know…”, the brunette huffed and let her head fall back,“I just-… Tried to find a nicer option than kidnapping…”
The woman shook her head and shrugged.
“Well… It’s-… I know he has some people who’re not really fond ofhim, with being a model and having a famous dad and all that.”, she sniffledand brushed over her eyes another time, “I just-… I never thought… I thought wewere… And I n-never, I mean-…”
Alya quickly slid closer and wrapped her arm around her bestfriend’s shoulders, snuggling her closer. They leant their heads against eachother so that Marinette could still watch Nino walking around with the tinybundle that was her sleeping daughter, trying to make her sleep for another fewhours after tonight’s happenings. Before a tear could roll down her cheekMarinette managed a small smile as Nino cooed down to the slumped bundle in hisarms, fully unaware of the two women watching him.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mari…”, Alya mumbled, fondly watching herhusband take care of her best friend’s child, “We’ll find Adrien in no time.I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Marinette sniffled another time before hugging Alya back, buryingher face in her best friend’s hair.
“I-… I hope so…”
Nino came over to the couch and readjusted Emma to lay snugglyagainst his chest, steadied by his arm while brushing over her back with hisnow free hand.
“I know so, Mari. It’s gonna be okay.”
He leant closer, wrapping his arm around both women and lettinghis hand come to a rest on Alya’s shoulder, resting Emma’s legs on Marinette’sthigh. The young woman huffed a snort and turned a little away from Alya toplace a hand on Emma’s knee, smiling at the contact with her daughter. It wasreassuring to have her friends caring for both of them like this.
“… Thanks, you two…”
They stayed tightly entangled on the couch until Marinetteeventually passed out on Alya’s shoulder as well.
“Still nothing?”, Marinette sighed. Adrien had been missing forthree days now and the police still didn’t find a clue.
“We’re very sorry, Mrs. Agreste, but we’re doing the best we canto find Mr. Agreste as soon as possible.”
Marinette remained silent for a moment, feeling a tear roll downher cheek. Then she straightened her shoulders and nodded.
“Alright, thank you.”
The policeman hung up and the woman slumped against the kitchencounter, rubbing over her face with both hands after putting her phone away.Alya stepped into the room, Emma securely in her arms, and pressed her lipstogether as Marinette shook her head.
“… Oh…”
The two remained silent until a little sniffle sounded fromMarinette, causing Alya to turn to her and carefully place the baby in herarms.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mari, promise. We’ll find him and if we haveto turn Paris upside down.”
The woman solemnly cuddled her child close, burying her face onEmma’s tiny shoulder as the infant chortled and flailed around a bit. She heldher closer before lowering her down to lay in her arms again.
“I-… I just don’t know where I should take the hope anymore. Thepolice don’t have a clue, Adrien would never leave me and-… I-… I just don’tknow how to raise a child w-without him…”
“Hey, wow, wow.”, Alya’s stern expression startled Marinette alittle, “Nothing is set in stone yet. We’ll find that idiot and you’re gonna behappy with him and have at least two more children and everything’s gonna bealright. You don’t know where to take the hope? Well, take it from myreassurance. If I’m telling you it’s gonna be okay, it will be. Understood?”
She hesitantly nodded, carefully bopping Emma’s tiny nose to makethe baby smile. As she giggled the corners of Marinette’s mouth rose as well.
“Thanks, Alya…”
It was three in the morning when Marinette got startled out of hersleep because of a knock on the door. With a dizzy and sleepy mind, she got upfrom the couch, stretching and yawning before taking a step.
She wasn’t really sure if she should go check the door since itwas still her friends’ apartment but a glance into Nino’s and Alya’s bedroomtold her they were still sleeping.
Before she went to at least check the spyhole she went to throw aglance into the makeshift nursery her friends had set up in Alya’s office. Emmawas comfortably tugged in and Marinette smiled when she gently brushed over herdaughter’s cheek. The baby sighed in her sleep and her little fist twitched,causing the woman to bend down and press a little kiss to her forehead.
Only then, she approached the door, unsure at the hour. Maybe shehad misheard? Surely there wouldn’t be anyone out at three in the morning, especiallynot wanting something from them so early. But maybe it was the police? Maybethey had found something!
Forgetting the spyhole in her eager hope, she opened the doorafter hearing another knock sounding. But when she recognized who stood infront of her door, her heart stopped beating momentarily. The blonde hair wasthe first thing jumping at her with full force. Then these radiant green eyes.
“Adrien…”, it fell from her lips before she could restrainherself. Tears welled up and she stepped forward but froze immediately at acold, hard thing pressed against her temple.
“Not another step.”, a female voice warned and Adrien shrugged,smiling.
“What-…”, Marinette forced out, trying to look to the side to see whowas holding her at gunpoint.
A cold wave washed over her back as she recognized Lila, smirkingevilly.
“… You.”, the woman heard herself say, her voice suddenly turninginto a hateful snarl. Lila laughed as she stepped between Adrien and Marinette,the gun staying pointed at her head.
“Yes, surprise.”, the brunette grinned as she squared hershoulders, “After all that you’ve done it’s finally my turn. Do you reallythink I wouldn’t be able to sniff you out after you put down your hunter careerto become a mother? Do you really think I’d be that dense? But I gotta say, yourcover was even good enough to fool your friends.”
“My friends know of Adrien and me.”, Marinette growled, her fistsclenching, “Speaking of, why’s he here and-… So-…”
“I erased his memory.”, Lila shrugged, “He doesn’t have a clue whohe was or who you are. But I wanted you to see him while I destroy you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as Marinette’s attention drew back toher husband who dumbly smiled at her.
“Adrien-… Adrien, please-… Emma’s inside. You-… You’re a father. Ineed you, please, please snap out of it…”, she pleaded but Lila merely cackled,shaking her head.
“Not a chance, hunter. And now say goodbye to him. I’m sick ofseeing you in this world.”, she grinned, “Bye, bye.”
And then she pulled the trigger.
The empty clicking signaled Marinette to loosen her shoulders andshe waited for a little moment, then she grinned.
“Holy shit, you scared me.”
Lila laughed, lowering the prop and immediately going to hug her.
“Gosh, you scared me!Your acting is sometimes too well for your own good.”
Adrien chuckled, patting both women’s heads as he was taller thanboth of them.
“I seriously had a shiver running down my spine as you two saidyour lines. It was so hard to keep smiling!”
“Pfft, says the model boy who literally smiles to earn money.”,Marinette mocked as she parted from Lila, jumping off the set, closely followedby her two co-actors.
“Hey, that’s something entirely different!”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
Lila breathed through and rolled her shoulders, giving the prop toa set assistant and thanking them.
“Woah, what a season finale. Get the squad together and go for adrink now? I really need to celebrate this.”
Adrien grinned, slumping his arms over both women’s shoulders.
“Yeah, killing is hard, isn’t it?”
Both women rolled their eyes and laughed, Lila quickly spinningout from under his arm.
“Don’t tempt me, Agreste. And now let’s go celebrate the finale!”
Feel free to send me a prompt! Own list, reblogged list or anything you’d like!
Wanna buy me a coffee?
#miraculous ladybug#prompt#marinette dupain-cheng#marinette agreste#adrien agreste#emma agreste#alya cesaire#nino lahiffe#lila rossi#adrienette#djwifi#kinda au#anon#ask#freckles writes
32 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cottagekore36
Cottagecore and adventurecore
mobile
Web. Mobile. Media
andeverden
cₑyₗₒₙ ₗₑₒₚₐᵣd
vaanysherondale
we are timeless
