#mother child river tang au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellebeebee · 7 years

Note

if you're doing the 7kpp ask meme, i'd love to hear about 7 and 8!

Okay. So this is late, and it’s not even done. But it was getting… y’know. Long-ish, so I think it’s best if I do this in two parts.

I guess I got a little carried away.

This is the story of a Court Lady’s parents, Dhorée the palace apothecary and Silla the military intelligence officer and nobleman.

4,630 words, pairing: Corval!mc’s parents, general rating except for some language

Note: Lady Renn isn’t the mother of any of the princes or Sina; she’s an AU wife of the emperor I guess.

Part Two Here

Part One

It began small.

A courtier grumbled casually at the Emperor’s table over imperial taxes, and the courtier’s favorite servant spent three days violently ill. A visiting dignitary found themself mysteriously and increasingly weakened over weeks, until, finally bedridden, the Empress generously sent her own favored apothecary who miraculously cured their illness. A snide grand princess made a remark towards the Emperor’s wife, and at a garden party found herself so overcome with admiration and need for a mere guard, that she quite made a fool of herself. The aftermath of artworks of fine slippered feet sticking akimbo from shrubbery were quite amusing.

Dhorée had not protested to these requests the Empress made of her these past three years. After all, it was merely the nature of her profession. An “apothecary” serving in the Corvali court could hardly claim a weak stomach. No more than a kite could be without wings.

And so, Dhorée stood silent at the Empress’s side as she and the newest wife of the Emperor traded pleasantries.

The Empress’s south garden had a pleasantly situated mezzanine, lined on either side with delicate arcades in which filmy moon-white silk stirred in the evening breeze. The midday rest period had ended, and now was the time for courtiers to venture out into the weakened heat of the day’s late hours. Most were accustomed to take tea in this time, and the Empress had provided a splendid spread of strong black tea in tiny gilded glass cups and lovely ripe grapes, plums, and pomegranates.

Only the finest for the newest member of the harem, the Empress smiled. Around them arrayed servants and other favorites, all half-smiles and faint perfume.

“Your Majesty, you are too generous,” Lady Renn said. “You already arranged my wedding so splendidly. Why, I could not repay you in several lifetimes!”

The Empress laughed lightly. “I don’t expect it, dear. As head of the harem, it is my duty to maintain harmony and ensure the continuance of the imperial line. Your happiness has become my happiness.”

Lady Renn bent her head. “I pray that I will be fortunate enough to repay the magnanimity of the Empress and the Emperor with many princes.”

“As do we all,” the Empress said.

Her expression and tone rang elegantly and tenderly, but they all knew better. It was not a wish expressed, but a threat. Sweetness from the fruits, clean herbal tangs from the garden, and dark richness of the steaming tea filled the air. Lady Renn smiled with sweat on her lip.

“Concerning which,” the Empress continued. She gestured to Dhorée. “This is my personal apothecary and physician. I cannot sing her praises in a pretty enough tune. She can be rid of the smallest ailment from headaches to lethargy.”

The Empress leaned in toward Lady Renn, her expression vividly sincere. “But her greatest help to me was in conceiving the Crown Prince. And she delivered him, as well.”

This was not entirely true. Dhorée did help with the Empress’s fertility and conception, but she had merely assisted with the delivery. A crone who lived in some of the best quarters of the palace had been midwife to more princesses and princes and emperors than could be sat a full banquet. Still, they all knew the game the Empress played, and they all knew their place within it.

Lady Renn smiled at Dhorée. “I have heard. How clever you are at such a young age!”

Dhorée smiled back with equal pleasantry. “Thank you, my lady. I am honored by the Empress’s words.”

The Empress’s, and not Lady Renn’s. It was what the Empress expected. And Dhorée had four years on the new blushing bride of the Emperor. And many more years of tireless study besides. But she couldn’t take it personally; it was, after all, court.

“So, I thought it would be best to give her to your household, my dear. Nothing is more important than your health, and my darling Dhorée is the best with these matters,” the Empress said.

To her credit, Lady Renn’s eyes did widen with pleased surprise. “Oh, I could never take such a skilled servant from you, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense. She is yours. Your first child will be the hardest, so we must take all precaution.”

“Oh, I have just been married! You do make me blush, Your Majesty.”

“How sweet! But really, we should have started this before the wedding. In any case, there is no time to lose. And look, you’re both from the same hold. You will have much in common, I’m sure.”

Lady Renn glanced at Dhorée and back at the Empress. Her smile did not crack, but it was a near thing. A daughter of duke, having “much in common” with a palace apothecary? From anyone else, it would have been a gross insult. But that was “anyone else.” This was the Empress.

But it was true. Lady Renn and Dhorée shared the thin faces and blue-black skin of the clan families who lived along the southern coast of Corval’s inland sea. They traded in some of the rarest red timber in the world and in shipbuilding. Arlish and Wellish timber were imported to the area (the local red timber was far too precious to be wasted on ships), and master engineers crafted deadly Corvali frigates and corvettes which were floated down rivers to the outer coast. The inner location protected the workshops from Hisean raids.

Lady Renn’s father owned many of these timber mills and ship companies. Dhorée’s father had been a mere cold remedy peddler. Lady Renn was married to the Emperor of Corval. Dhorée was being bodily traded from one master to another at this very moment. So to say they had much in common? Well, the Empress said so, so it must be true.

Lady Renn bent at the waist, a semi-bow of obeisance. “Then I accept with pleasure and gratitude, Your Majesty.”

Striding forward, Silla brushed his uniform straight with absent-minded fingers. Darkness had just set, and the real business of the day was only just beginning. The broad hall swept around an exterior wall of the palace, its open casements peering out into the blue dusk. One could still make out the deep and stark line of the palace walls, a guard’s dark shadow cut into the speckled sky.

The palace steward walking before him was saying something innocuous about their surroundings that happened to also be complimentary towards Silla himself. Silla smiled and returned the pleasantry. The guards around them were silent, with silent palms on their silent pommells. They were not his.

Silla had no disillusions about his own station once the doors to the harem pulled shut behind him. Out there, he was an intelligence officer in the navy. In here, he was a guest crawling toward scraps of His Majesty’s benevolence. There could be no mistakes.

Passing through an intersection of marbled halls, Silla suddenly stopped and a broad grin stretched across his face.

“Farou? My word, is that really you, Fancy-Foot Farou?” he called out.

Ignoring the guards at his shoulders, Silla strode toward another guard standing on duty just to the side of the intersection. The tawny young man blinked at Silla. He smiled despite himself, then glanced worriedly at the other guards and the steward.

Silla continued on anyway. “Farou, you so-and-so, I haven’t seen you since I left the stationing in Skalt. I’m surprised you didn’t freeze your balls off. You were always threatening to.”

He slapped Farou on the shoulder and reached for his hand, pumping it enthusiastically.

Farou laughed lightly. “Captain. It’s good to see you. Congratulations are in order.”

“Yes, yes,” Silla said. “My sister is quite blessed to have the fortune of serving the Emperor. My family is honored.”

The steward cleared his throat. Farou glanced at him.

“Well, it’s been good to see you, Captain.”

“You as well, Farou. I’m in the city, let me buy you a drink sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

As Silla finally released Fancy-Foot Farou’s hand, the guard passed a small and tightly folded square of paper into his ex-captain’s hand. With practiced ease, Silla tucked the square into his sleeve out of sight of his escort.

The steward gave Silla a hard-eyed stare with lips pressed thin, but gestured him on politely enough. The rest of the journey into the inner sanctum of the imperial harem went quietly enough without any disruptions.

“I asked for you hours ago,” Renn exclaimed angrily.

Silla sighed, smiling. “How are you? I’m fine, it’s wonderful to see you. Have you settled into the palace? Oh yes, everyone–”

“Don’t give me that,” Renn snapped.

Silla stared back at his sister, working his jaw. It seemed not even marriage had changed her. Her quarters were wide and spacious, washed in the beautiful gold of a thousand candles. The Empress had even had most of the furniture carved from the hard redwood of their homeland, the rigidity of the wood lending to distinct, hard-lined fluidity in the crenelations and forms. Servants, eyes cast down, stood quietly around the room waiting to be beckoned to service.

One of them, a woman about his own age, stepped toward Renn.

“My lady, we should begin,” she said calmly.

Renn glanced at her, and her serene face, a cool umber tone and spare in its design. A crown of braids wove around her head. Renn licked her lips, and turned back to Silla. She smiled.

“This is Dhorée, dear brother. Her Majesty was generous enough to install her personal apothecary and physician in my household. She is to help me conceive.”

Renn stared at Silla. Her eyes trembled with fear. Silla internally sighed. She had been told, many times, to expect such maneuvers. And yet here she was, being all too obvious about her personal feelings. No wonder she had summoned him so urgently. Not for the first time, Silla wished he’d had another sister, any female relative at all, that he could have used instead of Renn.

Silla bent toward the apothecary, Dhorée. “Her Majesty’s benevolence is boundless. I thank you on behalf of my sister and family.”

Dhorée dipped into a deep curtsy. “Not at all, your lordship. I only hope my small skills will be of use to Lady Renn.”

“Please,” Silla gestured toward his sister. “Don’t let me interrupt. Shall I step outside?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Renn interjected, glancing between them.

Dhorée bent toward the lady. “Not at all, my lady. I only need a light preliminary exam.”

Renn nodded sharply. Her head bent, Dhorée approached the lady, and carefully slipped a sleeve back to lay her finger on a pulse point.

“I said this before, but we are grateful– our family wants nothing more than many princes–”

“Please, my lord, I ask for quiet while I examine Her Ladyship,” Dhorée said.

Silla coughed and took a seat. “Sorry. Of course.”

The long pause drew taut. The room flickered rhythmically to the quiet breaths of the servants, standing staid at attention, and of the three in the center of the room. Silla often thought that the dreadful nature of Corvali politics had much to do with their nation’s heat. Business could never be done in broad daylight; no one wants to discuss contracts and treaties covered in sweatstains. Everything had to be done in the evening after the worst of the heat finally breaks or in the morning, if you are particularly industrious or sadistic. Spooky candlelight made one feel, after all, either quite fearful or cruel. Or both.

Dhorée completed her exam, making her polite requests to the lady. The apothecary stood.

“Well?” Renn demanded.

“You are quite healthy, my lady. As expected of your youth and good blood,” Dhorée stated. “I will create a mixture for you to drink the week after your cycle.”

“Can’t you just give it to me now?”

“These things must be done with the correct timing, my lady.”

Renn sighed. “Alright.” She frowned. She glanced back up at the apothecary. “You-”

Dhorée bent her head. When Renn did not continue, she said, “My lady?”

Renn glanced at Silla, who looked back blankly.

“No, nothing, Dhorée. Is your examination finished?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Then–”

The bell for the outer door chimed just then. One of the servant girls bobbed to Renn and left the room. She returned, announcing:

“His Majesty’s messenger sends his master’s greetings. His Majesty requests Lady Renn’s company tonight.”

Renn straightened. She was suppressing her glee, Silla could see. And likely everyone else in the room saw, too.

He stood. “That is my cue to part with you, dear sister.”

Renn was already calling for her favorite gowns and a bath.

“Yes, yes. Until later,” she said impatiently. She did not look at him

Really, she spent so much vitriol scolding him for not appearing on command, now she nearly shoves him out the door.

Silla stood and spotted the apothecary still bent to Renn. His sister had quite forgotten her. A plant by the Empress, and the girl forgets her. Silla smiled and gestured to Dhorée. Hesitating, she looked to Renn, and then nodded back at him. They quietly slipped from the room, him holding the door for her.

In the antechamber, the Emperor’s messenger and his retinue waited several paces away near the door. Silla’s own escort had vacated seats for them. They bowed as Silla entered. He nodded, and turned to Dhorée. He stopped her retreat with a soft word.

She looked at him silently. She wore her mask well. Corvali court masks, the really good ones, were invisible so that you could not tell just what sort of mask it was. Often you did not see it until too late.

“I was going to say before,” he smiled, “That I really am quite grateful for your skills. I know my sister can be difficult–” She opened her mouth for the expected denials, but he shook his head. “I know how she can be, so I’d like to say that I see your efforts.”

Dhorée did not even hesitate. Not even at what was as much threat as compliment. She bobbed a curtsy. “You honor me, my lord.”

Silla nodded. He bid her farewell and rejoined his escort. As they left, Silla charmingly inquired after a particular set of gardens. The steward assigned to babysit him agreed to take a route through them. Silla smiled. The note Farou had passed him gave him the particulars of a dead drop with the real information he needed.

Despite Renn being Renn, it wasn’t a bad investment at all to place her here, in the heart of the imperial harem. Not bad at all.

It was another month before Silla reentered the palace.

It was enough time to learn what he needed. He spent the late afternoon drinking tea with Renn and sympathizing with her whispered complaints to him. She passed him a few crumbs of interesting leads. He reassured her that her current position protected her from Her Majesty. When he brought up the subject of the apothecary and her work on ensuring the “many princes,” he was hardly surprised when she put her cup down.

“I suppose,” Renn said carefully. “I suppose I may have been quick to judge. These servants don’t always get to chose their master. Some just need the luck of finding the right one.”

“Oh?” Silla smiled. “What a change of attitude. Am I to be an uncle already?”

“No, Silla,” Renn stated as if he were very slow. “It’s only been a few weeks. But. She has helped me with my complexion. And–” She leaned toward him as if this were some great secret. She imparted to him an anecdote of how Dhorée managed to move the head of the seamstress department out of Renn’s way when the woman didn’t fit a dress to her liking. A nasty ailment of the stomach that crippled her for two weeks.

“Well, well,” Silla said. “What busy little bees you two have been. But all the same, I’d like to speak to her, if you would. You are, after all, not here to meddle in the lives of seamstresses, but to bear a prince.”

Renn stared at him for a moment, and he could tell she was biting back an angry comment.

“Very well,” she finally said. She gestured to a servant.

She was as he remembered her: dark like himself and Renn, and crowned with intricate braids. And that expression which told him nothing. It seemed to tell Renn that the apothecary was suitably servile and compliant. He suspected this was not entirely true.

Silla spent some time questioning Dhorée over his sister’s baby-making progress. Dhorée properly apologized for not producing results beyond what is naturally possible. They spent some time discussing Renn, the lady herself quite pleased with the topic of conversation. But the hour approached in which the Emperor would select which wife to summon. It would likely be Renn.

Silla put down his cup. “I must go. But first, I’d like to thank you, Dhorée.”

“My lord, I have done nothing–”

“And that is exactly why I thank you,” Silla smiled. “After all, you had a month’s worth of opportunities to tell the Empress my sister has no intention of having an imperial child.”

Renn dropped her teacup. She gaped at Silla. Dhorée maintained her bland expression.

“I’m sure that’s not true, my lord,” the apothecary stated calmly.

“No, it’s quite true,” Silla said, ignoring Renn’s sputtering. “For one, I know my sister. So I know it. But I know you, Dhorée, know it because I said the words ‘many princes’ when you first took her pulse. The pulse tells all, and it would have told you exactly what you’d need to know to give Her Majesty leverage. But–” He gestured at the pretty garden around them, directly adjacent to Renn’s quarters. “But it’s clear that the Empress’s wrath hasn’t descended on us.”

Renn swiveled to stare at Dhorée. Dhorée remained focused on Silla.

“Perhaps, then, His Lordship could tell Lady Renn to stop inducing vomiting on herself after taking the fertility medicine I’ve made her.”

Silla’s brow jumped. “Renn,” he mock-scolded.

“I–” his sister started, horror etched in her face. “I– I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” Silla asked.

“Silla,” Renn said, turning to him earnestly. “Please. Can’t it just be enough that His Majesty is in love with me? Everyone knows I’ve been with him the most this month–”

“And what about when he stops summoning you every night? What about when he gets a newer wife? What about when you are old and alone?” Silla stated. He dropped his blithe tone and the playful rise in his brow. He stared hard at his sister.

She dropped her eyes. “I…”

“You didn’t think about it, I know. That’s why I’m here. And that’s why you need to listen to me.”

Renn stared at him. “Why do I… I never wanted children. I never…”

“You’ll spend nine months being doted on by the entire court, a few hours of labor, and it’s done.”

The lady was silent. Dhorée gently cleared her throat.

“There’s plenty of time, my lady,” she said.

Renn was silent. Then the imperial messenger came for her again, and she nodded to Silla’s pointed look. The lady left with a swish of rick silks and the tinkling of her pearl strands. Silla did not get up, and did not dismiss Dhorée. Around them, the garden whispered its secret scents to them, fluttery with tea lights. The stars were coming out.

Dhorée gazed at him. “Why are you trying to help me?”

“I said before, I know she can be difficult. Anything to help ease tensions.”

“No. That’s not it,” Dhorée said. Her eyes hardened. “Let me ask again. Why are you trying to help me?”

Silla smiled. “Why don’t you explain it to me.”

She frowned. She looked as if she was about to stand and stride away. But she shook her head and said, “If I were informing to Her Majesty, why help dispel Lady Renn’s suspicions? Why not just have me quietly disappear?”

“Like I said,” Silla stated, leaning back into his seat and crossing a foot over his knee. “I already gave you an opportunity for the Empress to be rid of Renn. Either you are not as loyal to Her Majesty as she may think, or she is playing a grander game. I’m interested in seeing which it is.”

Dhorée stared at him, her shoulders back and her neck elegantly long.

“And besides. You just said if you were informing to Her Majesty. Implying you aren’t, or at least might not be.”

The apothecary maintained her calm gaze. She tilted her chin up, her black eyes meeting his.

“I know what I said,” Dhorée stated softly.

Silla smiled. Around them, the garden sighed sweetly.

The affair began two months later.

Lady Renn accompanied the Emperor to the hunting lodge of a friend, and the lady brought nearly her entire retinue with her, including Dhorée. It went much as these things do: Silla showed up one day, delighting his sister and his brother-in-law, there was a grand party (the kind with alcohol and poor decisions and backstabbing), her eyes met his across a crowded room, and he followed her into a quiet little room.

She pulled away from that first hungry kiss to exhale, “You’re married.”

Silla breathed, licking his lips as he looked at her. “So are you. All beings within the palace belong body and soul to His Majesty.”

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that they could only meet in the few instances where Silla was permitted to visit his sister, or the handful of times he had Dhorée spirited out of the palace.

It didn’t matter when Renn had a miscarriage that upset her so much, the Emperor pitied her terribly, and seemed to favor her all the more. Silla never asked if it had been Dhorée’s doing.

It didn’t matter that they were suspicious of one another, probing the other’s motives with barbed words and traps disguised as scraps of information.

It didn’t matter that Renn grew overconfident, and began an underhanded solicitation of politicians. She accrued a secret wealth of favors-owed, which Silla drew from time to time. Dhorée looked the other way.

It didn’t matter that one soiree Silla was accompanied by his wife. And Dhorée had to smile by Renn’s side while the nobility laughed over delicate refreshments.

It didn’t matter that the Empress still sent flowers to Dhorée on her birthday, and other little gifts.

None of it mattered. And before they could even take their bearings, Silla and Dhorée were caught up in a whirlwind of their entanglement.

Two years passed in this manner.

“I don’t see why you are being so difficult,” Renn said testily.

“Really?” Silla stated, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. “You really can’t imagine why I’d object.”

The lady leaned back into her settee, her every movement setting off a glittering music of jingling bracelets, necklaces, and earrings. Her fondness for jewels and pretty metal had only grown over the years. The redwood furniture now wore gilding along every edge. Dhorée quietly poured tea for them.

“You haven’t been promoted in ages,” Renn complained, on the side of whining. “And it’s not just a general’s braids I could get you. A ministership–”

“It’s nepotisim and bribery, Renn. You may have forgotten, but the imperial harem has laws,” he hissed.

Renn’s nose snarled. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve taken precau–”

“I don’t think you are, I know you are. And you haven’t been cautious enough. If I could find out enough to be alerted to the dire need to come here and scold you, then other people know, too.”

“Fine, fine,” Renn snapped. “You don’t have to get your knickers in a twist over it. I was just trying to do something nice for you–”

“Stop doing nice things for me. For anyone, for that matter. Put your head down and worry about how much the Emperor wants you.”

Dhorée shifted on her feet. He’d really wasn’t pulling the punches today. Lady Renn had been summoned less and less lately. The lady’s complexion furled in angry splotches. She dismissed her brother with a haughty ring in her voice. Silla left, his cloak snapping behind him.

Lady Renn was in a mood the rest of the day. Dhorée brewed a calming tea for her, adjusted the fertility concoction she was still taking with no result (after two years the apothecary would blamed at this point, but of course she hadn’t been), and gave the lady a pressure point massage.

Lady Renn finally let her go at that point.

As Dhorée walked the back halls of the palace, servants made room for her and remade their expression to cool servility. For one thing, an apothecary was somewhere between a servant and a favored lady-in-waiting. Except the education was much more demanding, and the stakes were much, much higher. No servant wanted to ever catch the attention of an apothecary, especially when her mistress held the sort of reputation Lady Renn did in the kitchens, the sewing rooms, and the servant quarters.

Dhorée walked on placidly.

Her little set of rooms had a pleasant view of the northern palace wall, over which a shimmering fractal of ocean could be seen. She had her own sitting room, a workshop, and a bedroom. As Dhoré walked across her fine silken carpet, shrugging off her outer robe to throw onto her bed, she found Silla sitting up in said bed.

“Yet another thing I have to hold against Renn,” he said, pushing himself up. “Her keeping you from me.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dhorée told him without much force.

He stood on his long legs and reached for her, his rough military man’s hand taking hers scented with acrid herbs. She let him lead her to the edge of the bed. He sat back on the emerald silks, holding her at the hip and looking up at her face. Their knees rested together.

“What is it, Silla?” Dhorée asked quietly. She curled her fingers in the dense bristles at the base of his neck, kneading lightly.

Silla heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time. He knew what she meant; they always knew exactly what the other meant now. They spoke a shared language of insinuation and allusion. They were the same breed of creature.

“We caught the Bloody Edge a month ago,” Silla finally stated. “Usually he’s so careful, but we kidnapped his husband. Grabbed him during the ransom exchange. He was brought in. And…”

Silla shrugged, looking hard and blank at nothing. Or maybe looking at something he wished was nothing.

“And this bullshit with Renn– Goddamit.”

Letting go of her, he bent forward and ground the heel of his palm into his closed eyes.

Dhorée removed her hand from the back of his neck.

“I can’t fix those problems, Silla,” she said.

She lightly ghosted her fingertips along his jaw.

“What do you want?” she said.

Silla looked back up at her. His dark eyes shone out of his blue-black and handsome face. Sliding his hands back onto her hips, he pulled her toward him again. Staring up at her, he placed a soft kiss over her dress near her navel.

“I want you on this bed. I want you to let me have my way with you.”

Dhorée climbed over him, knees sinking into the feather mattress beside his thighs. He fell back as she hovered over him.

She kissed him. “That, I can do.”

#7kpp #corval!mc #fanfiction #my writing #replies #I've gotten really attached to Silla so I refuse to kill him off #AU where Court Lady's father is alive #yes #I should also note that 0% of the characters are good people #z e r o

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augustawren · 7 years

Text

A Candle in the Dark Pt. 1

Characters: Wren and her memories (her memoir)

Universe: Canon memories, Originally written for Broken/Fang AU

~Trigger warnings for CSA and violence~

A Candle in the Dark

(In Elven): For you I cry, I bleed, I fight. For you I die a thousand deaths. I am reborn. Your heart it beats in me, love everlasting. For you I laugh, I breathe, I live.

Part 1

You were forever curious. You were joyful and happy and full of laughter. And you were loved, I promise you, you were loved. (letters from my mother)

This story starts before my memory begins. Many of you know the tale already, or at least some version of it. A halfling child, taken in the dead of night, stolen away from her home. A happy accident for my captors, who never meant to take a prisoner. They happened upon a child, a toddler with a penchant for climbing, who had snuck from her house to chase fireflies and look at the stars. I can only imagine that they jumped at a chance to please their master.

I had a mother. A father. A sister. I spoke with a lisp and played dolls. We helped my mother knead dough, getting sticky and covered in flour, laughing until we cried. I pretended my bed was a pirate ship that I sailed with my sister until we were rocked to sleep by the tide of our imagined ocean. I danced and sang and the only pain I ever knew was from a scraped knee.

Loved completely and fully by my family, the name I knew back then, was Bug.

I know little of my first years in the factory, only that somehow, I became the prize. Put a child to work, even one as young as me, teach her that it's all she's good for, and you'll create the perfect worker; devoid of hopes or dreams. My first memories are fuzzy, wrapped in a shroud of misery and horror. Beatings, whippings, starvation, watching the children around me die like dogs in the street. Blood, blood, so much blood. Being thrown a scrub brush and told to clean it up. And the river. The ever rushing river, it’s roar penetrating our nightmares. It was a promise. A whisper of what was to come, what would happen to us all. We would die gasping as the water consumed us, the relentless wheel tearing our bodies to pieces, our screams silenced as water filled our lungs.

Interspersed with each act of cruelty, was the kindness, the tenderness, from the monster who ran it all. Fang. A name that resonates deep in the bones of every person in Dolbry. Fang. A name used to strike fear into the hearts of children. Fang, who held me on his lap, smoothed back my hair while I cried in terror, murmuring that he loved me. I don't know when I became his sexual plaything, the memories of that remained locked away deep inside until many years later. None of us were clean, but I was the dirtiest of us all, crawling through vents too small even for the other children, to try and hide, hoping that my filth would protect me, that he wouldn’t want me. But it didn’t matter what I looked like, he would just bathe me, caressing my skin, running his fingers down, over the hardened scars and open wounds on my back. Down. Down, down, down, into the water. I’d learned long before not to resist. I would return to the other children, washed and smelling of soaps and candy, but I never felt clean. Their resentment over my special treatment was clear on their faces, and I let it grow, festering, welcoming it. They could never hate me as much as I hated myself.

He carried me around like a doll, petting me, teaching me things no child should know how to do, showing me things no child should have to see.

Back then, the only name I knew, was Rat.

The factory grew as I grew, emerging from its infancy to become a looming shadow across the city. Food and shelter were promised to street children and the children of poor families. A way for them to help their loved ones, to ease their burden. This rumor spread like wildfire, their aching bellies driving children right into Fang’s hands. I have no idea how old I was. Old enough that the memory stuck. The memory of the first time I saw him. A grimey little boy of ten or eleven. Dirty red hair, gangly arms and legs. I try and think now what it was about him. Was it the way his eyes still held hope? Or the smile that he gave me even as he walked through the doors to his doom? If I could go back, to somehow warn him, to save him from the agony that stretched before him, I wonder if I would, or if I would selfishly cling to the only brightness in the dark.

His name was Jamie, and he took to me instantly. It was in his nature to reach out to the broken, the wounded, the helpless. He’d spent his childhood nursing birds with broken wings or rescuing stray cats and dogs from street children. I was the smallest, and isolated from the bonds the other children desperately tried to form with each other. I’ll never know what it was that drew us together, be it dumb luck, chemistry, or divine intervention. Somehow, we became one.

Stripped of his name the same way I had been, through brutal whippings and beatings, he became no one in a sea of no ones. Our names became our identifying features, what we looked like or what our specialty was. Blue. Scab. Freckles. Spanner. Cherry. Boiler. I worked with the widgets, the parts of the machines that required the most care. They held it all together; intricate parts deep inside the belly of the Meckana that required small and dextrous hands, darting between the gnawing jaws of gears and metal. And so I gave him his name, a piece of our bond to remember, even after I was taken by the inevitable death that we knew was coming for us all. Widget.

It must have been solely through Fang’s force of will that I survived the years before Widget. Though the years after he came were still bad, worse in some ways now that Fang had us to use against each other, our friendship was a constant that I could never have made it through without. We clung to each other for dear life. Widge and Rat. Together forever. No matter what. He took beatings for me, and I for him. He stuck up for me, Widget beat against the door when Fang would take me into his office to use for his sick pleasure. Widget showed me the only love and kindness I had ever known, though neither of us would have used the word ‘love’. It was a word only used with Fang, who made us say we loved him over and over until even the mention of love was enough to make us flinch, our stomachs clenching in dread. Through Widget, I learned about the outside world. I learned the names of animals, especially of the birds that would sometimes make it into the factory, only to perish from exhaustion as they tried to find a way out. There was only one way out, and we all knew it. Some days we longed for it. The sweet call of death just out of reach. I learned from Widget about hope and generosity, just from watching him. He tended to other kids, he broke up fights, he picked up the slack when one of us was injured and terrified one of the foremen would notice the decrease in production. I began to put my own skills for climbing and hiding towards a purpose. Stealing food, medicine, anything I could get my hands on to try and improve the lives of the children around me. He never asked me to, never told me to directly, but as I look back, it’s obvious I was changing just from being around him. He was good for me. And I think I was good for him. We were two halves of the same whole. Inseparable. We slept in each other’s arms, carved out a hiding place where we could talk and play grim versions of children’s games. The world was just a little more bearable, as long as we had each other.

And then suddenly, we didn’t.

Years had passed, I was roughly the same age Widget had been when he’d first arrived, while he was just pushing into an even gangly-er pre-teenage phase. This day, more than any other, sticks in my mind like a thorn too deep to remove. Fang had taken me to his office, the overseers beating Widget into near unconsciousness for trying to stop him. Fang was in a foul mood, and dropped all pretense of tenderness. I’ve tried to forget the sounds of my own screams from that night, but they’re as clear to me now as if they had just passed my lips. When he’d finished with me, he threw me to the floor like a discarded rag, blood streaked down my legs. Then he started beating me as he never had before, flying into a rage. By the time he was finished, I was broken, in mind, body, and soul. I remember feeling as if a white hot poker had been thrust inside my very being, burning away any trace of who I had been. But what remained, when stripped of myself, was a vicious animal. When he picked me up to take me into his arms and start the whole thing over again, I did as any trapped animal would do. I fought. I fought for the first time that I could ever remember. I fought to live, to be free. When the knife appeared in his hand, it only spurred me on, thrashing and scratching and tearing at him. I still don’t know if he meant to cut my face or my throat. I remember hitting his arm just as the knife was coming down, though if I managed to change his course, it was merely by chance. Whatever his intention, the cold metal slicing open my face was enough to stop my frenzy. He dropped me, and I can still taste the metallic tang of the blood, can still see the way it flowed from my mouth, leaving pools on the floor in front of me as I tried to crawl away. He grabbed me by the hair, turned white from fear or so the story goes, and dragged me to a closet. The darkness enveloped me then, and as I choked on my own blood, I knew my release would come soon.

What I got instead, was an angel.

I have flashes of memory of the first time I saw the angel, though it’s mostly a haze of pain. It felt as if I’d been torn inside out, like every bone in my body had been broken, and then I’d been cut in half. But the arms that carried me were strong and gentle. I looked up to see a moonlit halo around the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Eyes blue as ice, though they blazed like torches, skin pale and glowing in the night. Long black hair whipped around as the angel ran along rooftops, leaping across gaps, never losing the hold on me. The features on the face, while beautiful, were set in a fierce and determined scowl. It was a look to strike fear into anyone that beheld this resplendent glory.

I was terrified and awed all at the same time, and passed out. I faded in and out of a dreamy semi-consciousness for I don’t know how long, but I would always see the angel’s face, soft and tender, or hear the angel’s song, the unfamiliar language so sweet to my ears. When I truly awoke, however, it was to pain, as long, deft fingers stitched up my shredded face. It was the first time I truly saw the angel. And realized that he was just a man. An elf; tall and regal, certainly. Handsome, most definitely. But an angel he was not. Which meant I was alive.

And so starts the story of Wren.

#dnd stories #dungeons and dragons stories #fang au #broken au #tw csa #birdywrites

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 month

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If we're being honest, I don't think Pigsy as Zu Baije would have tried to eat Tang as Tripitaka if he knew he was preggers, memory, or not. He's a dick, but a dick with standards. I think mothers and pregnant people were one of the exceptions to his maneater ways

referencing this post.

Absolutely.

Zhu Bajie (even as the maneater Ganglie) wouldn't have eaten a *pregnant* monk. In fact... his reaction would likely be a lot different. Especially since his wife in "Game On!" bears an uncanny resemblance to a certain nerd.

Tang: *appears to be a distressed, pregnant, likely excommincated monk* Pigsy as Zhu Ganglie: "Hey pretty mama, wanna be my wife?" Tang, taken aback by his husband's Big Body: "Oh my..." (;ﾞ°´ω°´)

It accidentally becomes more of a "Beauty and the Beast" situation, as Tang has unknowningly taken the place of Gao Culian/Zhu Bajie's wife. The core conflict would Tang trying to convince his memory-scroll'd husband to remember his manners, kindness, and his noodle recipe. By the time the kids catch up with them, Tang and Pigsy are happily cuddling away with all memories restored.

#mother child river tang au #lmk aus #pregnancy tw #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #lmk zhu bajie #freenoodles #freenoodlesshipping #lmk #lego monkie kid

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 month

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crack-ish LMK S3 idea where: during the roadtrip to stop LBD, the gang come across the remains of the Mother-and-Child River. The village of women long gone since the days of the pilgrimage. It's about the time where the gang got separated due to Macaque's illusion TEA.

Wukong can sorta recognise the area, but without the actual village there, he's isn't 100% sure. Also he's still mediatating so he's no help in navigation. Cue Tang getting thirsty and going against Pigsy's warnings not to drink unboiled river water. And well...

Tang, obviously sick: *sobbing and clutching his stomach* "Ow..." Pigsy: "I warned ya not to drink from that river! Look at it! Who knows whats been in there!" Tang: "I feel like I'm gonna die!!!" Scorpion Queen, overhearing: "Oh wow that monk sounds really sick. I should get him somewhere where he can recover." *accidentally kidnaps Tang*

Pigsy is forced to wake SWK up so they can track down Tang, and maybe get an idea of where tf they are. Wukong is still really out of it, not full amnesia-wise, but like confused and super honest.

SWK, half-asleep: "Hmmm... oh! I remember where this place is." Pigsy: "You do?" SWK: "Yeah! This is the border of the Kingdom of Women!" Pigsy, horrified look of realisation on his face: "...What Did You Say?" SWK: "The Kingdom of Women! Big river, all woman village, You struck out with all of them, you and Master drank that dirty river water and we had to-!!" *notices the look on Pigsy's face* Pigsy: *glaring with intense horror* SWK: "Master drank the water again did he?" Pigsy, squeaks out: "Yup." SWK: "Typical Master. Never learns."

By the time they get to Scorpion Queen's lair, Tang is still in a mega-amount of pain from his body rearranging his insides, but is distracted by his new bestie's cooking.

When Wukong makes the casual comment about "Getting yourself into this situation, again", Tang starts asking questions. Pigsy ends up being the one to break the news.

Tang screams.

But quickly resumes eating the lovely meal Scorpion Queen made for him. He can freak out later. They have a world to save after all.

#lego monkie kid #mother child river tang au #lmk #lmk tang #pregnancy tw #lmk pigsy #sun wukong #lmk scorpion queen #lmk aus #crack #freenoodles #freenoodlesshipping

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quitealotofsodapop · 30 days

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Adding onto Zhu Ganglie “marrying” pregnant Tang when they meet in the Mother Child River au, what if MK and Mei actually catch up with Tang and he convinces Ganglie that they are his disciples/adopted kids and convinces him to take them in as well?

Referencing.

omg yes

the kids get to Tang but Pigsy hasn't gotten his memories back yet, leading to an interesting encounter.

Pigsy as Zhu Ganglie: *about to put the hurt on some tresspassin' punks!* MK and Mei: *screaming!* Tang: "My love! No! Thats our son and his friend!" Zhu Ganglie: *pauses mid-strike of his rake* "Huh?" Tang: *runs up to MK and Mei* "This is my son Xiaotian, and my diciple Xiaojiao! Your proposal was so sudden, I hadn't time to tell you about them!" Zhu Ganglie: *glaring as the cogs turn in his head* Tang, MK, & Mei: *all sweating nervously* Zhu Ganglie, brightly smiling: "Well ain't that a pleasant surprise! Looks like I got me some stepkids too!" *puts away rake* "'Least I won't be lonely in the field or the kitchen! C'mon inside! I'll make us some slop!" MK & Mei: "Wut." Tang, whispering: "We're at the point where Zhu Bajie hadn't met the Pilgrims yet, but about the time he married Gao Culian. Just play it cool."

And cue some uber-awkward dinner talk as the gang tries to present information that could jog Pigsy's memories (MK as a bab, the resturant, by buddha even ping-pong), and it comes to a head because of Ganglie's terrible cooking.

Tang: *takes one sip of Ganglie's mystery stew* Tang: *turns green and retches* Tang: "NOPE! If I'm gonna be stuck with the previous incarnation of my husband - then he's gotta learn one decent recipe!" Zhu Ganglie: "Pardon??" *cue the noodle-making / "I've dedicated my life to this man" scene from canon* Pigsy, back to normal: "Oh Tang! Kids! I can't believe I didn't recognise you guys!" *sniffs air, looks over at Ganglie's cooking* "And I can't believe I fed you that slop!"

#mother child river tang au #pregnancy tw #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #freenoodlesshipping #freenoodles #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk #lego monkie kid

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quitealotofsodapop · 17 days

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I absolutely adore Tang River Water au!

I really like the idea that Tang accidentally drank water from this river and became pregnant just out of carelessness. It's too hilarious. An even funnier thing was that now their child is the rebirth of jade emperor. They can never have a break. Poor guys.

But for some reason it became very interesting to me what type of Tang will be during pregnancy? Will it be easy or will he be terribly emotional? Or something else, I would really look at it. I also think that he would really not like that when he tried to eat his husband's food, and then he started to feel sick just from the smell. He would definitely look at his stomach with anger and disappointment "you. traitor". And he would absolutely ask Pigsy to hold his belly in the later months of pregnancy.

I also really wonder how they would behave with their daughter. I know they love her, but I'm sure they're absolutely scared and DON't know what to do. I just want to know what they're planning to do. Will they overprotect her because she is the rebirth of the most powerful being in all of heaven? Or will they hide it? Maybe they will ask for help from heaven?

referencing.

Hehehe! I'm glad you like it!

Tang was just so thirsty after being in the desert (I believe is meant to be the Gobi) that he just leaps into the first water source he can find. Pigsy yells after him but Tang's already gulped down the yucky muddy stream water before Pigsy reminds him that there's a water purifier in the TEA. By then, the remnants of the Mother-Child River had already begun the process.

After his body adapts to the major magically-induced change, Tang ends up using his condition to get out of work/to get pampered on. Emotionally he's ok, just a little more worried than usual. And Pigsy is such an adoring spouse that Tang's symptoms rarely go unattended. Lots of cuddles and tummy rubs in the later months.

Ankles swell: "Oh Piggy~ My feet hurt." Morning Sickness: "I need tea and kisses!" Cravings: (Tang: "I require oranges, bao buns, ramune soda, takoyaki sauce-" Pigsy: "How about I leave you inside the Speedy Panda with 500 yuan and I close my eyes while you go shop?" Tang: "I love you so much piggy.") Smells: "MK you stink. Take a shower or I will literally barf." Painful Kicking: "Cuddle time." >:3

And if the *cicada* part of the Golden Cicada is acting up; he gets into carving/whittling - cicadas etch tree bark to lay their eggs. Pigsy now has many tables in the restaurant defaced with Tang's "masterpieces".

And I absolutely hit Tang with what (he believes) is the worst symptom on Earth; Food aversion. Specifically towards NOODLE SOUP. His husband's own cooking! He's distraught! Something about the combination of broth and noodles makes his stomach turn! Broth and noodles separate? Ok. Together? Instant morning sickness. He suspects its something to do with the texture of the noodles when their soggy.

Wukong: "Maybe your brain thinks its worms." Tang: *turns green and retches*

Pigsy goes out of his way to prepare dishes for Tang that don't set off his nausea, even if it means altering his traditional methods.

Pigsy: "Ok, I've been experimenting with a new dish for a while and I want your opinion." Tang, delighted: "Ooo hoho! You know I'll always be your taste tester, Piggy." Pigsy: *presents the elements of his noodle recipe* Tang: "Huh?" Pigsy: "You seemed really sad to not eat noodle soup, so I made a dry version so that you can still enjoy the flavours. The broth is on the side so you can drink it. The guy from the somen restaurant gave me some pointers." Tang, getting emotional: "You... you changed your recipe for me!?" Pigsy, grabbing Tang's hands: "Our family recipe, Tangy. That includes you and our little critic." Tang: *bursts out sobbing and shovels the dry noodle fixings into his mouth*

The baby - "Bao/宝/treasure or bundle" (also bao buns were one of Pigsy's cooking Tang could eat) - ultimately looks similar to a baby orc from Dungeon Meshi. A mostly chubby human baby with pig features. She has a puff of Tang's dark hair that becomes little black stripes on her back like a wild piglet.

What the baby takes after Pigsy in appearance, she takes from Tang in greediness. Before she's even off milk she'll try taking bites of other people's food. She's bold and confident, hilarious to anyone seeing a tiny piglet chasing Celestial soldiers like she's her own army.

And of course theres the issue of Bao being the reincarnation of one of the oldest and most powerful deities in taoism...

Pigsy and Tang are def the overprotective types, not so much for Bao being a powerful baby, but because every immortal seems to forget that she's still an uber-fragile preemie. Her health wasn't great when she was born (worsened by the circumstances around the birth). The freenoodles parents atleast have experience raising the little chaos monkey that was MK - the only difference being that Bao can't climb so good. Though she does seem to have control over the weather for some reason.

The Celestial Realm has to catch on quickly that she isn't the Jade Emperor anymore - she gets kidnapped atleast once by Heaven's officials needing the Emperor to approve paperwork. Bao screamed and grunted, rampaging around the imperial Palace the whole time.

The Queen Mother is saddened but adoring - her husband truly has passed on, but this little angel is a wonderful new beginning for him. She hopes to reunite in a later life.

Demons in general are pretty hopeful of Bao''s existance. Now that the Jade Emperor has been reborn on one of their kind - perhaps demonkind will be elevated once more? They'll have to wait until she's out of diapers before they start placing bets.

Princess Iron Fan's immediate reaction (after dealing with the shock of losing her estranged father) is to burst out; "HAH!" at the irony. Her father disapproved of her marriage to the Demon Bull King for his race - only to be reborn as a pig demon! The coincidence is hilarious! The Demon Bull fam does visit the baby girl to send their blessings, and offer advice based on how chaotic little Red was as a calf. Bao adores her giant uncle Bull since he's fluffy and big and smells like her baba when he cooks. She also gets super attached to Red Son for similar reasons - though Tang suspects it's because she smells grilled meat on him.

MK adores Bao, and will kill everything in the three Realms if anything happened to her. Bao in turn loves her big bro - even if she bites him and steals his food.

#mother child river tang au #pregnancy tw #lmk fanchildren #freenoodles #freenoodlesshipping #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #lmk jade emperor #lmk s4 spoilers #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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