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emilykaldwen · 24 days

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

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bylerserotonin · 1 year

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The amount of queer coded imagery Eddie has throughout the two IT movies is insane. This is gonna be an “analysis” of sorts to break down some of this imagery. If I missed anything, please comment/reblog and I’ll add it!

Eddie’s character revolves around being a hypochondriac who’s mother has caused him to be afraid of the world. Pennywise manifests as sickness and disease for him. As infection. This is most interesting when it comes to AIDS, which was sweeping the nation during the time of IT, in 1988. To set the scene of the AIDS epidemic, below are some snapshots of tabloids talking about the crisis.

Eddie name drops AIDS during the scene where they’re biking Ben to the pharmacy, and it shows how much fear his mother had placed in him about the epidemic.

“I mean, he’s bleeding all over and you guys know that there’s an AIDS epidemic out there right now, as we speak, right? I mean, my moms friend in New York City got it just by touching a dirty pole in the subway and enough of AIDS blood got into his system from a hangnail. A hangnail!”

The leper perfectly represents his fears of being infected by this disease (as, in his mind, being gay dooms you to AIDS without question). It’s most represented during the flashback scene in IT 2 when Eddie wanders into the basement of Derry’s pharmacy. When Eddie gets down, we get close ups of dirty needles and bags of blood. And as we know, this is one way AIDS spreads.

When Eddie does reach his Mom, she’s begging him to save her, saying “Don’t let it infect me, Eddie.”

The first time Eddie saw the Leper, he was at Neibolt. This is another very heavy queer coding moment. Eddie is chased through the lawn by the leper and reaches the fence. He turns around only to see the Leper isn’t there. In his place is Pennywise, holding a bunch of balloons in a form of a triangle.

The pink triangle was reclaimed by the LGBTQIA community after its use by Nazi’s during the Holocaust. In 1986, some activists in New York City created a poster calling attention to the AIDS crisis with the words Silence = Death and a pink upwards-facing triangle. It has since been used on signs to show that certain places are safe for the Queer community. This triangular shape of the balloons is only ever used towards Eddie in this scene. Everything is very deliberate in the IT franchise, and this is no different. It is clearly to wave at the Queer audience and tell us that Eddie is gay.

The Queer coding doesn’t end there. On Eddie’s red shorts, you can clearly see rainbow imagery.

In movies, clothing can be an integral way to show small details and Easter eggs to those who are paying attention. The costume designers had to go out and pick shorts with rainbows on it on purpose, so of course it must mean something. Another character who wears gay imagery is Richie, who wears a rainbow shirt. Richie is canonically gay and in love with Eddie.

There is also some closet imagery. In IT 2, Eddie and Richie come across the ‘Very scary’ to ‘Not Scary’ doors. The scene shows both of them (closeted men), facing the door, which then turns out to be a closet.

One of the most prominent parallels is during the opening of the second IT. Adrian Mellon and his boyfriend are at Derry’s carnival when they’re attacked and hate crimed. Adrian tries to grab his inhaler, but one of the attackers kicks it out of his hand. Adrian is Eddie’s out comparison. He represents what Eddie was scared of and why he’s still trapped in the closet. Adrian also acts as a cautionary tale and reminds us how truly dangerous being gay is in Derry.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #gay eddie kaspbrak #Richie tozier #it stephen king #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #analysis #queer coding #lgbt #this is my first full analysis with color coding and pictures and shit #so be easy on me LMAO

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osovereign · 24 days

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❛ ♚—HEADCANON: WORLDBUILDING / i.

PART ONE: covers pre and kharlan war era up until he leaves cruxis ( the first time ).

i will start by saying that while this is primarily information taken from canonical sources, there is some bits of my own headcanon mixed in to kratos' backstory and motivations but with that being said, the kratos novel has never been officially translated and i do not speak japanese ( i used mtl to read it years ago and serve as my current refresher on the material ): this isn't meant to be taken as the gospel regarding tales of symphonia and i don't expect it too. final note: this'll have several parts and while not required to read it is highly encouraged for both those that know of tales of symphonia and that do not--it'll be the answers to how and why kratos is the way he is in his main verse, post-tos.

canonically, kratos, is rather mundane and carries a very monotone state about him, outwardly at least. internally, he has such intense emotional anguish ( paired with a bit of stunting ): going on for a plethora of reasons spanning millennia upon millennia. ingame, he speaks very cohesively, eloquently, and to the point: which is a callback to his time before the great kharlan war in which he was born from esteemed high nobility ( the aurion family held the ranking of earls ): though he’d later abondon the lap of luxury to join the knighthood, then in being apart of the imperial knights ( leading to countless victory ): along with his natural affinity for battle that he is promoted to the captain of the royal guard, reporting directly to queen soleille, the last queen of the country of te’thealla.

it was during this time that kratos had encountered yuan, mithos, and martel and decided to part ways with the knighthood ( deciding that, joining these three would be the fastest way to put an end to the thousand year war ): while many, including mithos, would speculate that something was going on between the queen and her most trusted personal guard, it was one sided ( as when leaving te’thealla kratos told her as much after having an audience with the king and relinquishing his title, status, command, and affiliation to his country ): queen soleille was later killed by beheading for both rumor of unfaithfulness and for kratos being associated and then, siding with half-elfs. [ kratos novelization | shokuzai no kratos ]

with kratos, no longer having a country to fight directly for his full attention went to ending the war ( instead of merely seeking to defeat the opposition ): by aiding mithos travel around the world to make pact-vow’s with the summon spirits and then later, origin itself ( to grant mithos, a half-elf the power to wield the eternal sword ): however, the great kharlan tree was already dead by then and had only left one seed ( known as the great seed ) behind and with the little mana the seed could emitted was not enough to support the world. without mana, the source of all life on aselia, the world would die and so the only way to save the world was to use a great amount of mana, namely the comet of derris-kharlan, to revive the great kharlan tree.

though, the comet wouldn’t come back for a few decades ( as it had done originally whenever derris-kharlan came near the lifeless place known previously as earth it left lingering remains of mana and that is how the planet began to bring new life and what led to the elven race settling upon the world ): but, the world could not survive that long, this was why mithos’ decided to spilt the worlds with the help of origin ( to give them the time that the kharlan hero’s otherwise did not have ): by separating sylvarant and tethe'alla to alternate the great seed’s mana between the two, kratos and co would ensure that:

O1. so that no war to such an extent would start again. O2. it would prevent magitechnology from being used too much. O3. would stop the overconsumption of the limited mana in vast amounts.

this approach was originally supposed to last until derris-kharlan once again approached the world of aselia and on the dawn of its approach, mithos would again wield the eternal sword to revive the Giant Tree and unite the two worlds as one again. however, all was well in their mission: until the day martel was killed by a human. from her death sprung a grief for mithos, yuan, and kratos that brought forth the era of cruxis. during the early days of the organization, after the trio had put an end to the great kharlan war they had one main objective: to revive martel yggdrasill.

whom now had her role within cruxis as the goddess of the new world of aselia, now divided into two separate halves, with the previously fighting counties of sylverant and te’thealla as there own worldly entity. once enacting the chosen system by starting of the mana lineage, spreading of the goddess martel through the guise of how the holy war of kharlan was ended ( in this tale mithos, was simply known as the hero: his race omitted for as the distaste for half-elf’s had survived even after the war ): and the millennia that followed was one of dread for kratos.

cruxis organizational hierarchy mithos yggdrasill ( lord yggdrasill / half-elf -- seraphim and leader of cruxis — angel ) ⤿ the hero whom ended the great kharlan war

martel yggdrasill ( goddess martel / half-elf — seraphim and false goddess — angel ) ⤿ goddess of both worlds and reason behind the regeneration

kratos aurion ( human / seraphim of cruxis — angel ) ⤿ overseer to the world of sylverant and its chosen ⤿ the one true god king to aselia after it is reunited ( post kor/top )

yuan ka-fai ( half elf / seraphim of cruxis — angel ) ⤿ overseer to the world of tethe’alla and its chosen ⤿ guardian to the great seedling / yggdrasill tree

these four are the highest pinnacle of the organization and from them stems the lesser ranked angels ( those with wings of white or dark feathers instead of light ): however even those with wings of glittering light can become permanent feathery wings if they’re used for too long consecutively, which is a common problem with newer angels ( the four seraphim of cruxis and those of the chosen mana lineage are except from this rule ), then pronyma ( head of the five desian grand cardinals ), the grand cardinals ( pronyma, kvar, magnius, rodyle, and forcystus ), and then all of the unnamed desians. which, it should be noted that the organization is entirely composed of half-elfs, besides kratos the only former human. cruxis as a whole is divided into two levels: the angels, whom have high exspheres / cruxis crystals, and then the desians, who have base level exspheres.

with this, the four seraphim each have their own angelic messengers ( they are much like colette when she releases the final seal: soulless and memory less ): they have a band on their arms with a color specific to each of them ( mithos’ messengers have rainbow bands, kratos’ have purple, yuan’s have blue, and martels, when she is revived, would have green ): now during, the first two or so millennia of cruxis is when kratos first began to greatly disagree with mithos’ methods in trying to revive martel, in the beginning he spent them trying his best to keep his sanity. from which was on part for still holding the grief of losing martel and being unable to let it go, secondly for allowing mithos ( his most precious student to fall of the path of a righteous hero ), and three for having lost his sense of humanity but trying to again obtain it.

the catalyst for this event was when kratos was watching aithra at the tower of salvation with her guardians from a screen in welgaia and they watched her being stabbed to death. upon seeing this, it reminded kratos of the day martel was killed but mithos’ was only teaching kratos ‘to not allow something like this to happen again’ and ‘that cleaning up would be tedious’. due to this lackluster reaction from mithos, it was also when kratos stopped calling him mithos and only as, lord yggdrasill ( as he no longer recognized his former friend and student, who did not make the comparison ): he was no longer mithos, the hero who had put an end to the thousand year war in the holy ground of kharlan but simply the leader of cruxis, lord yggdrasill: who was very grief-stricken and a hate filled child who missed his sister.

with all this being said kratos retains through everything such an intense social awkwardness, both due to his endeavors of the traumatic stresses from the kharlan war, its grief, and his atrocities within cruxis. because of this he's a bit cut-throat blunt on various subjects by default ( he also doesn’t keep up with any of the latest lingo and is also noted by many to be very formal and old-fashioned ): above all, both within canon and my heavily canon expansion of his character: kratos is an observer and always has been. he is the type to watch, wait, and listen before taking any action but to have lived as long as he has takes patience, takes wisdom. his role within cruxis fit him very well as cruxis was an observatory organization for the most part.

#❛ ♚ there is something unspoken from your soul. ╼ ⟨ headcanon ⟩#( okay maybe my brain will lemme reply to gloom and sora nowww )#( the way this mofo angel lives rENT FREE IN MY BRAINNN )#( i literally dont have excuses for long meta thinga anymore LOL )#( at least i wove my muse so muchhhhh )

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ebookporn · 1 year

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Tomie dePaola Strega Nona Forever Stamps release May 5th!

This stamp honors prolific children’s book author and illustrator Tomie dePaola (1934-2020), whose extraordinarily varied body of work encompasses folktales and legends, informational books, religious and holiday stories, and touching autobiographical tales. The stamp art features a detail from the cover of “Strega Nona” (1975), the Caldecott Honor winning first book in the series. Set in southern Italy, the gently humorous story focuses on Strega Nona, “Grandma Witch,” who uses magic to help with matters of the heart and to cure her neighbors’ ills. Art director Derry Noyes designed the stamp with Tomie dePaola’s original art.

#TomiedePaolastamp #strega nona #childrens literature #childrens illustration #tomie depaola #postal stamps #librarians #booksellers

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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A True Prince

Premise: Ethan brings Cassie coffee, aka the fairy tale comes true.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 640

A/N: I caught up this morning on the replies/comments to A True Fairytale edit. And it ended up inspiring this short fic. I wrote it quite fast before starting work, so please excuse any errors.

Submission for @choices-november2022 Day 19, “Appreciate the moment”

Ethan Ramsey walked into Derry Coffee Roasters with the self-assurance of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. He looked neither left nor right, just took his place in line, head down as he scrolled through emails on his phone.

He smiled when a notification appeared at the top of his screen. His response was almost Pavlovian as he clicked on the banner to switch to Pictagram. It had been like that from the start, ever since he’d turned on notifications for Cassie’s posts and comments.

Emails forgotten, he scrolled down the feed to read her latest reply to Bryce and chuckled at Varma’s comment. It was a good thing Max and Sienna didn’t live in Boston. He suspected he’d see even less of his wife then.

Ethan knew Cassie was happy about their relationship, but she missed having Sienna in Boston. He remembered her saying she and Max had always lived near each other until she moved to Boston. It had taken her time to adjust, with Sienna filling the gap. And now both her best friends lived in a different city.

As he reread her caption, he thought that something about Cassie brought out the troll in him. He couldn’t help needling her and found himself publicly replying to her post, laughing inside when he imagined her face pouting as she read it.

Little did she know that he was already getting her coffee. After a long morning in the community clinic, he only wanted fresh air and a chance to decompress. He’d thought to take a walk around the park close by. But when he saw Cassie’s post, he detoured to Derry’s.

The customer ahead of him moved away, and Ethan stepped up to the counter.

“Hi, Dr. Ramsey.” The barista smiled, having known him for a couple of years now. “This isn’t your usual time.”

“Special occasion, Kara,” he replied.

“Your usual?”

Ethan started to say yes, but then a thought occurred to him. “Let’s switch it up today. A Cortado for me and a flat white for Cassie, extra foam.”

“Chocolate caramel cupcake?” Kara asked as she rang up his order, well aware of his wife’s addictions.

“You know us too well,” Ethan nodded and took his wallet out to pay.

The door behind him swung open with a rush of air, and he glanced over his shoulder. His blue eyes locked with hers, and he thought he saw a hint of surprise in Cassie’s green eyes. Then she threw him a wink, a teasing grin hovering on her lips as she walked over to his side.

He finished paying for his order, inwardly groaning when he saw the dreamy look on Kara’s face. He took Cassie’s hand in his, and they moved down to the bar to wait for their drinks.

“You really are my prince!” Cassie exclaimed when the barista handed her the cupcake.

Cassie circled her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss his jaw.

Ethan rolled his eyes dramatically, but his smile gave him away. “Your wish is my command.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a genie, Ethan.”

“As you wish?” He quirked one eyebrow.

“Westley from Princess Bride,” she said, shaking her head in amused exasperation.

“Ah well,” he shrugged. “I never claimed to be a prince anyway.”

“And yet, here we are,” she said softly.

They grabbed their drinks and walked over to the high back armchairs in the corner. Cassie waited for Ethan to sit, then she plopped down on his lap, her legs hanging over the side of the chair.

“You might not be a prince, Dr. Ramsey,” Cassie said, brushing her hand down the side of his face. “But you are mine, and I am yours. So let’s appreciate the moment.”

And for the next half hour, work and emails were forgotten as they did just that.

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All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bex-la-get @bluebelle08 @cariantha @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @mysticalgalaxysstuff @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @rosebudde @trappedinfanfiction @vi-writes-stuff @zahrachoices

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso @hopelessromantic1352

#ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart choices #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfics #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan x mc #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #short story

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jdeanmorgan · 10 months

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Inspired by @wh0re-behavi0r to share a list of shows I recommend (from someone who also watches too much television) to watch during the strike.

I also won't put 911 or 911LS cause i'm assuming most of you have already watched that.

Disclaimer: some shows span two genres and I'll try to mark them down!

Supernatural/Fantasy/Sci-Fi shows:

Smallville (10 seasons) True Blood (7 seasons) Buffy the Vampire Slayer (7 seasons) Angel (5 seasons) The Magicians (5 seasons) Ghost Whisperer (5 seasons) The Man in the High Castle (4 seasons) Nancy Drew (4 seasons) Preacher (4 seasons) Shadow & Bone (2 seasons) Timeless (2 seasons) Touch (2 seasons) Katla (1 season) House of the Dragon (1 season)

Mystery/Crime/Thriller shows:

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (24 seasons) Criminal Minds (17 seasons) The X Files (11 seasons) Dexter (8 seasons) Riverdale (7 seasons) Sons of Anarchy (7 seasons) Medium (7 seasons) Elementary (7 seasons) How to Get Away with Murder (6 seasons) Money Heist (5 seasons) The Rookie (5 seasons) Gotham (5 seasons) Orphan Black (5 seasons) Leverage (5 seasons) Person of Interest (5 seasons) Mr. Robot (4 seasons) Banshee (4 seasons) Sneaky Pete (3 seasons) Another Life (2 seasons) Twin Peaks (2 seasons) Sense8 (2 seasons) Mindhunter (2 seasons) Black Bird (1 season) Sharp Objects (1 season) Dexter: New Blood (1 season) The Devil's Hour (1 season) Panic (1 season) Kinnporsche (1 season)

Horror shows:

American Horror Story (13 seasons) Supernatural (15 seasons) The Walking Dead (11 seasons) Hannibal (3 seasons) Hemlock Grove (3 seasons) Chucky (2 seasons) Yellowjackets (2 seasons) The Exorcist (2 seasons) From (2 seasons) Interview With the Vampire (1 season) Midnight Mass (1 season) All of Us Are Dead (1 season) Kingdom Hospital (1 season)

Political/War/History shows:

The Good Wife (7 seasons) The Handmaid's Tale (5 seasons) Boardwalk Empire (5 seasons) Charité (4 seasons) X Company (3 seasons) World on Fire (2 seasons) Hunters (2 seasons) Dopesick (1 season) It's a Sin (1 season) Unbelievable (1 season)

Drama/Coming-of-age shows:

Grey's Anatomy (19 seasons) Degrassi: The New Generation (14 seasons) Shameless (11 seasons) Orange is the New Black (7 seasons) Station 19 (6 seasons) Nip/Tuck (6 seasons) The Fosters (5 seasons) Queer as Folk (5 seasons) Degrassi: Next Class (4 seasons) Reign (4 seasons) Skam (4 seasons) Pose (3 seasons) Make It or Break It (3 seasons) H2O: Just Add Water (3 seasons) Love, Victor (3 seasons) Fleabag (2 seasons) The Wilds (2 seasons) The United States of Tara (3 seasons)

Musical Shows:

Glee (6 seasons) Empire (6 seasons) Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (4 seasons) Smash (2 seasons) Schmigadoon! (2 seasons) Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (2 seasons) The Get Down (1 season)

Comedy shows:

Brooklyn Nine-Nine (8 seasons) Malcolm in the Middle (7 seasons) Parks & Recreation (7 seasons) What We Do in the Shadows (5 seasons) Misfits (5 seasons) Jane the Virgin (5 seasons) iZombie (5 seasons) My Name is Earl (4 seasons) Raising Hope (4 seasons) Please Like Me (4 seasons) The Boys (4 seasons) Doom Patrol (4 seasons) Faking It (3 seasons) Sex Education (3 seasons) Ted Lasso (3 seasons) Derry Girls (3 seasons) Santa Clarita Diet (3 seasons) Insatiable (2 seasons) The White Lotus (2 seasons) Trial & Error (2 seasons) Bonding (2 seasons) American Vandal (2 seasons) Special (2 seasons) Scream Queens (2 seasons) Abbott Elementary (2 seasons) Crashing (1 season) Our Flag Means Death (1 season) Now Apocalypse (1 season) Minx (1 season) Blood Drive (1 Season)

#show recommendations

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theperfectpints · 1 month

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Alle prime ore del 31 luglio 1972 oltre ventimila soldati dell'esercito britannico, sostenuti da un numero considerevole di carri armati e bulldozer, fecero irruzione in alcune aree dei quartieri di Derry e di Belfast. 'L'operazione Motorman' fu condotta con l'obiettivo di riprendere il controllo delle aree vietate ('no-go areas) e di smantellare le barricate erette dalla comunità nazionalista per proteggersi dagli attacchi settari dei vicini lealisti e della RUC, il corpo di polizia federale. Una delle zone "vietate" più iconiche è stata senza dubbio quella del Bogside, a Derry. Proprio qui, in Rossville Street, è stato completato nel luglio 2001 un murale a tema, che non lascia spazio a molte interpretazioni. Il soldato inglese che fa irruzione violentemente in una abitazione della zona è solo una delle tante azioni repressive che gli abitanti di questi quartieri furono costretti a subire. Un comportamento, quello dell'esercito britannico, da condannare fermamente. Ma questo è solo l'ennesimo vergognoso capitolo di una storia già tristemente nota. 🇮🇪✊️⛓️

#ireland #free derry #irish #murals

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sunshinereddie · 2 years

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The Losers all made friendship bracelets one day but Reddie added a red string to theirs.

(They may have forgotten but all of them kept them on their person without understanding WHY)

OMG?????? YES??????? THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!! im imagining all the losers as teens, it's a nice day in the summer before they graduate high school, sitting around in a circle making their friendship bracelets with strings and beads, they're all making their own until someone suggests that they also all make matching ones! ofc they're all on board, so they all get to work making bracelets with the same colours of strings and the same pattern of beads

but as richie and eddie are making theirs, richie steals eddie's bracelet for a moment. before eddie can even ask what he's doing, richie quickly ties a small, red string to the bracelet with a red bead attached to the end, so it's dangling from the bracelet. eddie looks at it as richie gives it back, and when he asks what that's for, richie holds up his own bracelet, showing the exact same red string and bead on his.

eddie understands immediately. he'd heard the tale about the red string of fate before, and richie liked to believe in that sort of stuff. when they had first started dating a few months back eddie remembered richie mentioning that their "strings had finally brought them together" (eddie would never admit it out loud, but he thought it was sweet).

at the end of their bracelet-making session, all of the losers' arms were filled with multicoloured bands of string and beads. throughout the years, most of those would fall off, get tossed away, forgotten about- except for one in particular. it was a bracelet stringed with a random assortment of coloured beads (none of them would remember, but it was a pattern made from each of the losers' favourite colours). for some reason, even years after they all left derry, the losers never seemed to be able to cut off and part with that bracelet.

especially richie and eddie. they both had the vague memory of the bracelet being attached to a memory from their youth, but they often found themselves looking down at their wrist, at the single red string with one bead on it, knowing that there was something important about that string but they just... didn't know what.

but when they step back into derry, and richie and eddie first meet each other's eyes from across the restaurant, the same thought blasts through their mind- the strings finally brought us together again.

#i was gonna add something very sad to the end of this #but i decided against it #...........#if someone wants me to share my sad idea i'll do it #but i didn't want to ruin this lovely anon's ask with my angst SJHEBFSKJEBDHA #maybe a separate post....#the losers club #the losers club hc #the losers club headcanons #reddie #reddie au #reddie hc #it #it au #it hc #sunshinereddie asks

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trashmouthkid · 2 years

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Love and Other Cryptic Tales from the Gas Station

The one thing stranger, maybe, than the town of Derry itself, was the 24 hour gas station loitering on the outskirts of it. (Or: Eddie's finishing up school at a local college, Richie works overnights at a gas station. A weird one.)

[playlist]

#reddie #fanfic #mine #the way i was like ''yeah ill be done by like 5pm and will watch [redacted] as my prize'' and it is now almost 5am...there is something #so deeply wrong with me

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crush3dmary · 1 year

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Sair's Fic Recs 2023

Stuff that lives in my head rent free. I may try to update this list from time to time, but these are my All Time Faves (tm). This got long so under a cut. Mostly Tales of Symphonia/Crestoria/Yugioh with some others sprinkled in there.

Tales of Symphonia

Daystar by Windian T / 2.6k / oneshot / Genis/Mithos / character death I'm a sucker for Cruxis Genis AUs and this made my heart ache.

My Goddess by silver_fish T / 4.3k / oneshot / Kratos/Yuan/Martel / no warnings apply Musings on the Kharlan War: Taylor is one of my favourite authors and I'm proud to call them a friend now too, this was the first work of theirs I read and it hit in all the right ways.

Better Luck by QuillMage G / 3k / oneshot / gen, Zelos centric / no warnings apply A fascinating study of the parallels between the people Zelos has allied himself with.

Holy Mother by Phlyarologist T / 1k / oneshot / gen, Mylene centric / no warnings apply Study of Mylene before her death. I really really loved the characterization in this fic, such a fascinating look into Zelos' life and family pre canon.

Guardian by VSSAKJ T / 10k / oneshot / gen, Kratos & Zelos / no warnings apply Lol I'm blocked by this author on twitter but the fic still slaps. A "what if" about the sort of father-son relationship Kratos and Zelos could have had pre canon.

Journey of Forlorn Hope by toniwilder T / 52k / incomplete / gen, Zelos centric / violence, suicide If you liked the "Zelos as chosen of regeneration" bit from Weltschmerz you'll love this. Frankly I think it knocks my fic out of the water, but unfortunately it was never finished. It's still an interesting take on the concept that differs from how I pulled it off.

Lights Out by theexistentiallyqueer G / 400 words / oneshot / gen, Zelos centric / character death Musings on Zelos' "bad end". Absolutely gorgeous.

Paradise by caseyvalhalla M / 3.5k / oneshot / Zelos/Lloyd / mild sexual content Lloyd and Zelos in Flanoir. Well known by now, but one of my favourite zelloyd fics out there.

Between Day and Night (an Everlasting Twilight) by SuikaShoujo T / 8k / incomplete / gen, Zelos centric / no warnings apply My wife's fic! A take on what Zelos' life may have been like in the years between "you should never have been born" and the start of the game. Everyone read it and go bug her to update.

Kratos dies on Derris Kharlan. by jonphaedrus T / 1.3k / oneshot / gen, Kratos centric / character death I'll be the first to admit that Kratos isn't my bias but holy shit, after reading this fic I get it. There's something so wonderfully tragic about his arc and I love that in this time loop fic, every loop ends the same.

Dead Man Walking by SuikaShoujo T / 3.5k / oneshot / onesided Zelos/Lloyd / suicidal ideation This was written for me right before me and my wife started dating, but it's still to this day my favourite of her stuff. I love onesided zelloyd just as much as requited zelloyd, and to this day I still go back and reread this fic, it impacted me that much.

The Broken ones by KujaTribal M / 202k / complete / Zelos/Raine / sexual content, violence I don't remember the last time I was as unable to put down a fic as I was when I was reading this one. An absolutely INSANE (affectionate) epic surrounding Raine and Zelos unleashing a new enemy. Made me see Raine in a completely new light.

Tales of Crestoria

You had it coming by Darkhymns M / 6.8k / oneshot / Vicious/Aegis, onesided Aegis/Rebecca / no warnings apply I'm in a mutual block with this author for unrelated reasons, but this is still one of my favourite fics of all time, like hands down. It was such a beautiful exploration of Aegis' grief and guilt, which is something I wish fic authors would play around with more. One of the only fics to ever make me cry.

Don't Leave by RisuAlto M / 300 words / oneshot / Vicious/Aegis / no warnings apply Some musings on a Viae FWB relationship. Risu if you're out there I miss u but no seriously, I still wonder how you were able to pack such a punch with just a few sentences.

iced tea imported from england by r0wlets T / 1.8k / oneshot / gen, twins centric / no warnings apply Honest to god another one of my favourite fics of all time because funny enough, when I was reading it I laughed so hard iced tea came out my nose (it was, however, not imported from England, just the same old Canadian stuff we get at the grocery store). Parody/crack fic about the twins.

Sinister Desires by bibliophileemily M / 800 words / oneshot / gen, Aegis centric / some violence and sexual content Another study of Aegis that I can reread over and over again. It surprised me to hear Emily wasn't too big on Aegis before she started reading my stuff, because I read this piece she did and thought "you GET it, you GET him". Great little ficlet about Aegis' repression and desires.

The Two-Faced Breeze by SystematicAphrodite M / 90k / ongoing / Aegis/OC / violence Yall ever give something you're a little averse to a chance and end up just totally loving it? Yeah, that was me with this fic. I started reading it in its early days and offered some crit, and SA (who is a good friend of mine) took it and ran with it and turned this story into something excellent. A totally interesting and wild take on Crestoria's lore with a very fun OC. If all fics were as creative as this one I'd never get bored.

Other Tales

The Most Honest Truth by Gargant (Tales of Xillia 2) T / 50k / complete / Julius/Rideaux / no warnings apply Canon divergence AU where Julius looks for a way to save Elle. I won't give away too much, but the journey is just as important as the destination here, I've reread this fic so many times.

Closure by secretagentfan (Tales of Xillia 2) E / 9.6k / oneshot / Victor/Jude, Ludger/Jude / noncon, sexual content I only bookmark porn if there's plot and HOO BOY did this one ever hit. It almost felt more like a character study than it did porn, which I think is why it resonated with me so much haha. Takes place during the fractured dimension where you go to Victor's house.

Volunteer by vandesdelca (Tales of the Abyss) M / 1.8k / oneshot / gen, Van centric / no warnings apply I'm rusty on abyss but Elivan's stuff just gets me every fucking time man. The Van studies and the exploration of why he is the way he is... gut punch after gut punch, and the fact that I got destroyed in less than 2k words!? Impressive. This one in particular I really, really recommend.

Blame by vandesdelca (Tales of the Abyss) T / 300 words / oneshot / gen / no warnings apply Same author as above, this is one of the fics that got me hooked on second person as a style of writing. Amazing prose, and you know how I feel about prose.

Out of Oblivion by silver_fish (Tales of Arise) M / 19k / oneshot / Alphen/Shionne / suicide and violence And again Taylor never fucking misses. A study of Shionne and her relationship with suicide- so much of this resonated with me and my experiences as someone with BPD, I swear I've read this like at least 5 times since it got posted. It's a heavy read, but so worth it.

Achillea by DisappearingMuse (Tales of Berseria) G / 396 words / oneshot / gen / no warnings apply I'll be the first to admit I'm rusty on berseria knowledge but the PROSE in this, damn. I had no idea my heart could break in less than 400 words.

ripe and wicked plums by pixiecircle (Tales of Berseria) E / 13.8k / complete / Velvet/Magilou / sexual content, character death AGAIN, I wasn't much of a magivel shipper (though my Berseria knowledge is a little stifled these days) but this fic absolutely blindsided me. Warning for porn, but the way the author develops their relationship through their series of trysts is just beautiful. The perfect amount of heart wrenching angst to satisfy me.

Yugioh

Scar Tissue by Cliscia E / 91k / unfinished / deathshipping / **warning for everything you can possibly think of I am not fucking around** Bad End AU where Ryou obtains all the Millennium Items and makes the entire world his plaything, particularly Yami Marik. This is my favourite fanfic of all time, NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, and unfortunately was never finished. Still, it tore my heart out and made me feel things I didn't think fiction could make me feel.

Can't Take It With You by parsonsaj T / 212k / complete / some tendershipping at the end, mostly gen / violence A character study of Ryou Bakura from the beginning to the end of the series. Okay so. This is another fic I absolutely zoomed my way through, all 200k+ of it, because I was just so hooked. I love the author's interpretation of Ryou and the canon divergences were so good. This fic actually inspired something I've got planned at the moment (for symphonia, sorry ygo fans) and I just know I'll be rereading the hell out of it.

Dusk by Ariasune T / 7k / oneshot / thiefshipping / violence Anyone who knows me knows I'm a suck for those "in between" moments we don't see in canon and this fic just satisfies all those urges with thiefshipping for me. And the prose!! Oh my god the prose. I love it.

but what remians by orphan_account T / 823 words / oneshot / gen, Ryou centric / no warnings apply Another second-person fic that really just hits. Wish I could have seen who the original author was and leave them a proper comment, but this little piece is such an interesting dive into Ryou's mindset re: being the host to a malignant spirit.

Rien by RandomDraconic T / 6.9k / oneshot / gen, implied tendershipping, Ryou centric / no warnings apply A beautiful exploration of Ryou's grief with losing Bakura and all the complicated feelings that come along with that. After I read this fic I thought about it nonstop for like 3 days but forgot to bookmark it and spent forever trying to track it down again. It's another one that Just Hits, Man.

Every Loop, It Feels So Real (The Puzzle Pieces All Conspire) by SheIsHoldingACat T / 3.2k / oneshot / gen, Kaiba centric / violence, character death This is another fic I think about over and over again, as you can see by now I'm a real suck for anything with time loops and Charles is an excellent writer who pulls it off beautifully. This one is an exploration of Kaiba's mind crush coma where the only way out is to heal his inner child. Yeah, it's just as good as it sounds!

AN UNWHOLE HALF // IMBALANCE by SheIsHoldingACat T / 11k / ongoing / tendershipping, puzzleshipping / violence I couldn't help myself from putting another Charles fic on here, even if this one isn't finished yet. His writing style just vibes with me so much, and he does my boy Ryou so much justice. One of my favourite interpretations of Ryou here (along with Scar Tissue).

To the Heart by girahimu_sama M / 128k / complete / thiefshipping / no warnings apply I just finished this one recently and it absolutely blew my mind. A canon divergence AU where Marik and Bakura form their partnership before Battle City, culminating in a redemption arc for the Thief King. Can't recommend this one enough.

Other

caught up in circles by sloppybxtch (IT movies) T / 15.3k / oneshot / Eddie/Richie / no warnings apply My sister went through a Reddie phase and I am adamant about the fact that I'll read anything, so they sent me a couple Reddie fics and this one really stuck with me. Time loop with a happy ending, and the fic that showed me how effective it can be to play around with formatting (which is now a staple in my works).

Aeromancy by Measured (Fire Emblem: Tellius) T / 16k / oneshot / Ike/Soren / violence Canon divergence AU where Soren is royalty. I'll admit I need to revisit this one, but I remember it having just the perfect gut punch after gut punch and really loving the writing style.

Mistakes by Antartique (Fire Emblem: 3H) M / 5.5k / oneshot / gen, Sylvain centric / referenced sexual content and abuse Another one that made me go "ah, I get it now". I was neutral about Sylvain until I read this character study.

Through the Night by ageha_nacht (Dr. Stone) T / 999 words / oneshot / Senkuu/Tsukasa / no warnings apply Okay so, once again I don't go here but I'll read anything and my friend Ageha said it was her best work, I can definitely see why. Highly recommended if you're up for a short but emotionally devastating read.

#fic recs

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fandom · 2 years

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TV Shows

Week Ending October 10th, 2022

The Owl House +10

House of the Dragon

Scooby-Doo

Interview with the Vampire -3

Good Omens

Stranger Things -2

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir -4

The Sandman -4

Love In The Air +6

Game Of Thrones +2

The Eclipse +5

Danny Phantom +2

9-1-1 -7

Derry Girls

Our Flag Means Death -6

Doctor Who

What We Do In The Shadows

The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous week. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last week.

#tv shows #10/10/2022 #the owl house

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femboyflowerfae · 2 years

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🍬☘️🐇 intro:

🌸 Hi, I’m Nellwyn! (pronouns are he/they/fae/bun)

I follow from @0th3rw0rldly-art

rb to be mutuals

💚 Likes/interests:

(Italicized + bolded = special interest or major hyperfixation)

making visual art (traditional and digital)

singing, songwriting/recording, playing guitar

fantasy media + worldbuilding

animated media

learning about visual art/design and fashion through history

queer history and culture etc

dream/indie pop

eclectic pagan witchcraft (more about my practice below)

fairy tales and folklore/mythology

vaporwave (music + aesthetic)

pastel aesthetics

fairy kei

y2k design

light academia

old web finds

fairycore and fairy stuff

art deco/art noveau

iridescent/holo things

crystals

flowers, plants, mushrooms

gardening/horticulture

cooking/food

room decorating and organizing

retro and vintage finds/thrifting

toy/doll/figurine collecting

the beach/seascapes, marine life

comics and manga and visual storytelling in general

1980s new wave/pop/rock music

psychedelic stuff

tattoos and body mods

makeup art and nail art

2000s kid nostalgia

sociopolitical issues (I’m an anarchist)

💚 Fandoms/media:

Animated media in general, Studio Ghibli (especially Howl’s Moving Castle!), Stardew Valley, Good Omens, The Good Place, Lord of the Rings, Over the Garden Wall, Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra, Our Flag Means Death, Pose fx, Moon Knight, Merlin, Gravity Falls, Queer Eye, MCU, What We Do In The Shadows, Sanrio, Steven Universe, The Umbrella Academy, Stranger Things, Euphoria, Derry Girls

💚 Music:

The Cure, Lil Nas X, Tyler the Creator, Jack Stauber, Will Wood, Ricky Montgomery, Led Zeppelin, Glass Beach, The Smiths, Kate Bush, Tally Hall, Depeche Mode, Wham!, Tame Impala, Marina Diamandis, Nirvana, 100 Gecs, The Beatles, Candy Claws, Arctic Monkeys, Tears for Fears, Macintosh Plus, All Time Low, Mitski, Dorian Electra, PinkPantheress, Dayglow, Ashnikko, Kero Kero Bonito, Mother Mother, Blackbird Raum, Crystal Castles, Beach House, Puzzle, etc

💚 Other stuff

I am one of several cohosts/frequent fronters of a diagnosed DID/plural system.

fave colors: green, pink, pastels

ESFJ, enneatype 9-2-6

genderqueer/androgyne femboy, gay/queer/sappho-achillean (gay for all genders 🤷), polyamorous, arospec

Neurodivergent (moderate support needs autistic/ADHD/etc) and physically disabled

Anarchist leftist (anarchocommunist?) with a focus on intersectionality

from the southern USA

Anti fascist, anti capitalist, anti imperialist, pro landback, pro prison/police abolition, pro choice, anti-white supremacy, anti-racist, ACAB, pro queer inclusivity (of all good faith identities including the “contradictory” ones), pro queer liberation, pro disabled liberation, pro neurodiversity, pro BLM, pro intersectional feminism, pro protecting the environment, anti transmedicalism

💚 Witchy stuff

Eclectic pagan witch (not a baby witch, but I’m also nowhere near an expert)

I do a mix of kitchen magic, natural witchcraft, elemental magic, traditional witchcraft, folk magic, sigilcraft, spellwork, tarot, spirit work, spoonie witchcraft etc. Lately trying to learn about various practices under the Celtic umbrella, Hellenic polytheistic practices, and Appalachian folk magic.

Deities I’m interested in: Apollo (primary deity), Hestia, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Persephone, Artemis, Demeter, Gaia, Hekate, Aine, Cerridwen, the Dagda, Lugh, Brigid, Cernunnos. I’m also interested in working with various nature spirits + other spirits/entities.

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darkhymns-fic · 11 months

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Being an angel is pretty inconvenient, huh? (Ch. 5)

Lloyd meets with the Great Tree's caretaker, Yuan, in the hopes of understanding his new wings, and where next to go from here. Still, he's felt so uneasy about what he should do... [A Lloyd wingfic]

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Yuan Ka Fai, Kratos Aurion Rating: T Word Count: 5702 Mirror: AO3 Notes: For Colloyd Week 2023, Day 5: AU / Crossover. Yep, I’m determined to finish this, even if late!

---

Lloyd had been remembering Kratos much more lately.

There was a memory he always went back to now; it was just before sending Kratos off to Derris-Kharlan, before he set off on his own journey with Colette, but just after the burn of his wings first being used. Even back then, his back had ached and stung. He wouldn’t summon them again, not yet.

Many of the angels waited among the wreckage that was once the Tower of Salvation. Mithos’ defeat could be felt, even among lifeless beings. It was then that some experienced the first emotion they had in centuries—panic, fear, a loss of direction. Such angels had gone to find an escape, using the still-working transporters to land on solid earth. But once on the ground, many either hovered among the debris, or cowered near broken pillars. They had no more orders, no more higher goal to attain to now that the head of their once sought-after dream had been cut off.

Yet, what stayed in Lloyd’s mind the most as he arrived there, as he watched Kratos go to the angels to assess their health, were their wings. How some stretched far, beating in the air, but going nowhere at all. How others lost most of their feathers to gather at their feet, leaving bare things that could hardly lift a body off the ground. Some were of blinding white, others of black that matched the night skies. Some were even bent crooked, damaged in battle—maybe from his very own swords.

Kratos knelt in front of one angel who hugged her knees tightly. She leaned against a crumbling wall, unmindful to the sharp stones that circled around her. One of her wings drooped towards the ground, barely able to move, curved a little unnaturally, while the other was folded by her side. Swords laid on the ground, forgotten, their blades nicked. Black feathers gathered at her feet like charred leaves.

Lloyd looked again at her wings, wincing at what must have been terrible pain…except the angels felt none, didn’t they? Robbed of all their senses, including touch, maybe she didn’t even notice it.

“Should we get help? Like from the Professor?” Lloyd didn’t step much closer, watching as Kratos tried to converse with the angel. At the very least, none of them tried to attack anymore. But like the angel before them, no one else would speak, or move, or do anything at all. Some simply waited.

She didn’t respond to Kratos who also gazed at the broken wing. “We have methods for treating this type of injury.” He sighed, got back to his feet. “On Derris-Kharlan, I’ll get her to that specific station.”

And then, a voice uttered out, “No.”

Lloyd wouldn’t forget the way she said it. It was different from before. He knew now that he had in fact fought this particular angel—how she had lunged for him, with barely a flicker in her eyes. How her twin swords clashed with his, the metal ringing in his ears. He had pushed back, parried away a second strike from her, the edge of his blade ripping across feathers.

She now raised her head, looking at them both. Her wing lay like a scattered thing, the white of bone just barely jutting out from what was left of her feathers. The hands around her knees then clenched into fists.

“I want these wings gone.”

Never had Lloyd heard an angel have such disgust in their voice.

Even Kratos was surprised, momentarily taken aback before he spoke. “It would be a lengthy and difficult process. To do so, you can no longer wear your Hi-Exsphere, as it would disrupt the mana flow. You will be exposed to the pain.”

“I know.” The angel only continued to glare. The wind shifted her black dress, which had also been torn at the hem. “I want them gone. If we are to live without Lord Yggdrasill and his dream, then I do not want the wings that I had gained while in service to him.”

But it was more than that, Lloyd suspected. Perhaps, without Mithos’ hold on her, with the reality of the situation, she wanted something else.

She wanted to be normal.

Afterwards, Kratos had explained to him, as much as Kratos could ever explain anything. That is, with soft allusions, vague assertions, and with very little detail. But what Lloyd could grasp made his shoulder blades ache, made him remember the very sting of his own wings.

“In Welgaia, we have machines to help with this process, usually to repair wings. Most of these wings are damaged during flight. And even though they are still made of pure mana, they act as if they are made of flesh and blood.” Kratos shook his head. “It makes it much more complicated.”

And Lloyd had to ask then.

“Is that going to happen to you someday?” The worry couldn’t leave his voice, a worry for a father he had just begun to know. Then, a new fear grabbed hold. “And what about Colette? Could her wings…?”

Kratos shook his head. “I’m not saying it’s an impossibility, but Colette has only been using her wings for the better part of a year. These angels here have used them for centuries. It is simply not equivalent. I believe Colette will be fine, even if she uses her wings until old age. As for me…” He moved to gaze at the stone embedded over his right hand. “I no longer plan to use this. There will be no need, and no threat to myself. I shouldn’t experience any abnormality.”

“Wow, actually being careful for yourself for once?” Lloyd had joked, feeling the worries fall off his shoulders. He felt empathy for the angels, but for those he cared for, they would be okay…

At that, Kratos gave a smile—a rare one. “You’ve taught me that lesson, Lloyd.”

It was easy to forget it then. Lloyd had a habit of letting his worries slide away when it was no longer such an issue. He was still sad Kratos would go, but he would go safely.

But then, once he got his new wings, that was when the dreams started.

“Lloyd? Are you listening?”

Yuan’s voice pulled him away so suddenly.

Lloyd shook his head, blinked, then looked ahead. The sunlight diffused around them through the windows, making everything seem blurry for a moment. His wings shifted behind him as he sat on the wooden chair, almost like the slow creaking of trees, all while his hands gripped a lukewarm tin cup that sat on a table.

“Uh,” he blurted out. “What was the question?”

Lloyd couldn’t recall ever seeing Yuan smile, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. Once Lloyd could see clearly, he thought Yuan’s deep frown would be enough to make an indent right on his face. He kept that frown up even as he sipped at his coffee.

“I try to give you my expertise on your situation, and you don’t even bother to listen?”

“I mean, you were talking for a really long time… And you kept saying things like ‘chronic mana emittance’ and ‘transmogri-whatever’ and you wouldn’t just explain what those even meant! So, fine, I tuned out a bit.”

It almost felt like he was being lectured in class again. Except he wasn’t allowed to ask questions, which was somehow worse!

“Well, I apologize that we have a lot of ground to cover.” Yuan sighed. “Especially with my current schedule.”

Yuan’s home was small, composed of a single room where it held a kitchen on one side, and the bed on the other. Fashioned from oak, it was plain in its design, almost utilitarian. The necessities for food and rest were apparent, but not much else for luxury. The bed was simple, with a small nightstand to hold a book or two. The kitchen counter and wood stove were also exceedingly bare except for some kitchenware, a few teacups, and a bowl of fruit. However, there was also a metal rack above to hold iron pots and pans, which happened to be just near the kitchen/dining table and seemed a bit low to Lloyd who felt very close to hitting it with one of his wings.

There was a fireplace though, which looked like it had never been used, but it was there. Still, it was different from Yuan’s once-fancy office, Lloyd noted. No grand, indecipherable painting decorated the walls this time.

This was definitely not a house meant for guests, which Lloyd supposed made sense. The place where the Great Tree was hidden would not have any normal passerby stumble upon it. As a caretaker of the tree, Yuan made sure of that.

Sighing tiredly, Yuan took another sip of the tea, then set the cup on a coaster. He no longer wore the cape and armor when he had been leader of the Renegades—only a simple black vest, its hem extending down to his knees, and white trousers. If anything, he looked more like a normal person living in a cabin instead of the head of a once-active faction.

Yuan folded his hands on the table with a hard look on his face. Lloyd had to restrain a groan. Was he actually about to be lectured at now?

“This is something you’ll need to take seriously, as the most extreme case has already happened to you.” Yuan didn’t need to specify. “Otherwise, I’d wonder why you even bothered to show up at my door in the first place.”

Lloyd felt irritated then, gritting his teeth and facing the man as if it were their first meeting all over again. “I am being serious! But it doesn’t help when you just breeze past through everything and talk at me like I’m just some wall. I’m not like one of the Renegades that will just listen to whatever you say and say yes, or just understand things no problem like Bo—”

He stopped himself before he said it. Still, it was too late. He saw Yuan freeze, even if it was the most miniscule thing.

Gah, I’m an idiot.

Maybe it was the constant weight on his back. Despite flying with them several times, they still felt strange—made him feel strange.

…And they didn’t fold very well over the back of the chair. It was awkward! He didn’t want to think back to when he struggled through the door either.

Yuan still said nothing for a while. Lloyd expected to be asked to leave, but instead, there followed another sigh, a tapping of fingers against the table before the man spoke. “I suppose I was a bit technical in my explanations. I’ll simplify it then. We can try again.”

Should Lloyd feel relieved? He had no idea, and just continued holding the coffee cup. He didn’t feel very thirsty.

“Now, about the word, transmogrify… What you’re going through is called wings transmogrification. When it first happened… I can’t even say when it did. It was so long ago, and all those incidents tend to blend together after a while.”

That was one of the least reassuring things Lloyd had ever heard, but he didn’t interrupt.

“So, the wings solidifying is actually very common,” Yuan continued to explain. “Nearly every angel in Welgaia had succumbed to it, usually long after they had already lost their will to their Exspheres. Although…the only one I can remember making a big complaint about it was Remiel. He was always a bit of an anomaly, keeping his sense of self longer than most. Could never truly figure out why.”

The mention of Remiel made Lloyd stiffen. “So…he really did have different wings before? Wait, don’t tell me you’re comparing me to Remiel?”

“I am just saying he was a bit of an anomaly. Considering you are one yourself, along with your Exsphere.”

Never mind. This was the least reassuring thing Lloyd had ever heard.

“Anyway, let’s continue. But first…” Yuan lifted his cup. “I will need more coffee. Come with me and I’ll fill your cup, too.”

Lloyd stayed seated in his chair, or as much as he could with his wings threatening to tip him over. “I didn’t even start drinking mine yet,” he said.

“Exactly,” Yuan replied, already standing up and heading for the kitchen counter. “It’s probably cold. Now come on.”

He kept gesturing for Lloyd to follow, for some reason. Why did he have to? He could just stay seated, especially with how hard it was for him to move his wings in small spaces like this—

Oh, this was payback for what he said before, wasn’t it?

Lloyd felt like the most awkward thing on the planet right now as he stood up, his wings instantly hitting everything they came across, even if just slightly. It’s what happened back at Sheena’s place, knocking aside wall scrolls and other knick knacks everywhere. Yuan didn’t nearly have as many decorations, but he did have that pot rack above. So, when one of Lloyd’s wings sprung up at just the right angle to make the cooking ware bang against one another in loud succession, the boy winced.

Yuan didn’t even bat an eye, already pouring the coffee grounds in a grinding device. But, did he catch a smirk?

Next time, Lloyd needed to not let his big mouth run. He sheepishly walked over to Yuan, trying not to smack down even more pots or any chairs along the way. He mostly succeeded, though a few feathers fell off here and there.

“Now, where was I?” Yuan said as he prepared the coffee. “Ah, about how the wings transform… It’s a result of constantly using it, even when it was not necessary. Many were careful at first, but once someone becomes a lifeless being, it’s no longer a priority for them. The wings transforming doesn’t endanger their lives, so they never willed them away. The new wings are still of mana, but constantly emitting, otherwise known as chronic mana emittance.”

“So…I’m doing that now?” Lloyd asked with some clear confusion.

“Yes. You’ve basically lost the ability to desummon them. We all have mana, but yours is emitting outside of your body at all times in a physical shape.” The coffee scent was strong now as Yuan got both cups ready, ignoring that Lloyd’s was still full and simply just emptying it in a nearby sink.

“I would say having such a thing happen to you would have been impossible, considering how little you’ve used your wings in comparison. But then there’s the matter of your Exsphere… It hadn’t had any of those negative effects on you that our own has, and yet the wings occurred still. So, it must still be evolving.”

Lloyd got slightly frustrated, apparent in his wings which rustled from his clear agitation. “Why would it evolve or whatever to let me have these things? These don’t even help me at all!” As he shouted, his wings reacted even more, fluffing up slightly and looking bigger than they appeared.

This resulted in hitting another of the hanging pots, knocking it askew so that it fell to the floor with a clang. Lloyd flinched. “Sorry.”

Yuan still barely reacted to it—though maybe there was a twitch just above his left eyebrow, and no smirk. Instead, he handed a newly-steaming cup of coffee to Lloyd while taking a sip of his own. “It could even have to do with you being a human. Most who succumbed to this much later in their lives were half-elves. And humans, or most humans, notoriously cannot control their mana. I’m assuming you can’t suddenly control magic either. Perhaps having that ability might have given you an advantage, perhaps not.”

Lloyd went quiet, even as he quietly fumed. “Kratos can.” he said. “And Zelos.”

“Because of the aionis. Believe me when I say you would rather not go through with it. From what Kratos tells me, it’s like consuming fire.”

Lloyd didn’t know what else to say to that. He finally took a long sip of the coffee, its heat not nearly scalding enough.

“Tell me something,” Yuan continued. “When you first flew on that day for the Great Seed, something must have happened then.” A pause. “And I think you know what that would be.”

Lloyd turned the cup in his hands, rubbing a thumb against the handle. He didn’t answer. His wings behind him shifted, curling in a bit around him.

“I thought so. Hiding things doesn’t help the situation, you understand.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Lloyd said with a sigh. “I’m just not sure. I always felt that he finally helped me, in the end.”

Yuan took another sip, then placed the tin cup back on the counter. “Perhaps Mithos did finally have a change of heart—as much of a heart as he could have after being absorbed from an Exsphere. Is it through him that your wings changed? Or was this an inevitability of your special Exsphere, regardless of Mithos’ influence? We might never know then.”

Lloyd was going to have a headache. “So, I’m just back at square one with this,” he said, taking another sip. Not as hot now, but having it warm helped ease the pounding in his head slightly.

“On the reason for your sudden transformation, maybe. But there is still a solution. You want to remove your wings, correct?”

It should have been an easy answer. That was why he’d come here in the first place, and why he went to visit all his friends and gain their support. It was to finally…

He thought back to that one angel, who wanted her wings gone. No hesitation, no doubt. Just a yearning for her wings to disappear.

Lloyd couldn’t help for his wings curve inward, trying to not hit any more things. Not like Yuan seemed to care, looking at the dropped pot on the floor with barely a glance. But, why did Lloyd not leap at the chance now? Why couldn’t he just say yes?

“It’s normal to be frightened about the process.” Yuan’s voice floated to him, unusually gentle in its tone now. “Is that why?”

“Maybe,” Lloyd said, but that was all.

He wasn’t really helping in any of this, but he didn’t know. He still didn’t know. And after all Colette had done for him, too.

Footsteps echoed across the floorboards. “We’ll have to continue this conversation another time, I’m afraid. I still have a schedule to keep, remember?”

It took a moment before Lloyd realized what Yuan meant. “Oh, I almost forgot. Should I wait here, or…?”

Yuan looked over his shoulder at Lloyd with an expression as if he had grown an extra head along with his wings. “As the pactmaker, you’d have more right to see it than even me. Also, I’d prefer it if you’d come, as I’d feel much better to not have your wings threaten my home while I’m away. I worry you’re going to shatter what little furniture I have.”

“…So you were just messing with me! Not like I was trying to hit things on purpose! I was just fine with sitting down!”

Lloyd’s shout wasn’t very loud, but animated, nonetheless. And such a thing affected his wings, which his right one had fanned out to hit the very peculiar-looking coffee machine Yuan had been using. It fell to the floor in a heap, something within it clearly making a very loud cracking sound.

Lloyd froze. “Uh oh.”

Yuan placed a hand on his face. “Let’s go now. Please.”

The Great Tree was a very hopeful name.

In reality, said tree was still only a sapling, one that was dwarfed by other trees that had already sprouted and bloomed to full length.

“Watch your step,” Yuan said, perhaps more for the uneven ground than for the wings that still moved around Lloyd with some awkwardness. What had once been ruined ground, where fragments from the shattered tower had been scattered all around, was now covered in verdant green. Even the debris seemed to have been swallowed by the earth, covering what were now ancient relics for change.

Lloyd looked at the sapling and was instantly reminded of the small trees that Dirk had started cultivating in his backyard as a pastime. Thin branches sprouted full leaves, and it stood on top of a small ridge, where it was framed by a running stream and hanging ivy, perhaps guided by Martel to help nourish the tree.

He also noticed something else. Had the tree grown a few inches since the last time he visited? It seemed like it, especially when he saw its height compared to…

“Ah, Colette,” Yuan called out casually. “You didn’t have to watch it the entire time.”

She stood before the sapling, only turning at the call of her name. The running water caught the sunlight, making some of the tree’s leaves shine. The sunlight also reflected off Colette’s crystal, but not blinding. Lloyd found himself going to her quickly, drawn in towards the gentle light.

“I didn’t mind,” she said, smiling more once she saw Lloyd. “Martel’s gone ahead if you’d like to see her.”

At that, Yuan only gave a small nod before turning his gaze back to Lloyd. “I shouldn’t be too long if you’d still like to discuss things afterwards.”

Lloyd had no concrete answer to that, but still, he could only agree. What else could he say? “Um, yeah. That’s fine.”

Maybe Yuan saw that hesitance, but also saw there was no point in acknowledging it. He walked away, giving one last gaze for the tree that now came up to his shoulder.

And once again, Lloyd also looked to the tree that he named. Its leaves were brighter than before, its branches just a bit more numerous. The makeshift stream around it was a clear blue, reflecting the sky. It was quiet here, and the wind gentle as it shifted those same leaves, as it created ripples across the water’s surface.

He felt Colette reach for his hand, her fingers slipping around his so naturally, fitting them together like a puzzle piece. “It’s really beautiful.”

Was she seeing the tree as what it could be, too? A great thing that had filtered the sun through its boughs, that towered over them so well, not to make them feel small, but as if they were being protected?

Another thought had to nag at him, pulling him away from that image. “Hey… where’s Blippy?”

“Oh, he’s with Martel,” Colette answered casually, as if it was every day the spirit of the Great Tree liked to do some pet sitting. “She really likes him.”

“Huh…” The idea made him grin a bit, squeezing Colette’s hand. “I feel like everyone we met up with wants to keep Blippy to themselves.”

“Maybe that’s why Yuan left, too.” Colette helpfully added. “After all, he didn’t get to pet him yet.”

“Oh, no wonder he wanted to leave so fast then! He could have just said so.”

“Well, we can make sure to visit often so he can see Blippy then!” Colette laughed happily, squeezing his hand back. “And everyone else too.”

As she laughed, so did Lloyd, the warmth of her hand making him feel elated. When it came to animals, no one was happier than Colette, to the point that it was so infectious. It even made his wings feel lighter, his left wing circling around her so that his feathers pressed against her shoulder.

And when that happened, he saw Colette’s eyes direct towards it. He was too quick to understand her expression then, for he pulled his wing back, feathers rustling as he did so. “Sorry, these things act on their own sometimes…”

His wings shook, just slightly, before he tried to make them stop. He wasn’t sure why the embarrassment was so strong.

“Let’s sit for a bit,” Colette said to him, before her hands gently pulled him down to the grass. The tone of her voice remained the same, as if they were still talking about the kitten. Yet, why were his wings still shaking? Why was he nervous all the time? Or so worried about what will be seen?

Why didn’t he just feel like himself anymore?

Even so, her hands guided him. He sat with her, knees touching, feeling her fingers lie within his palm. “I’m okay,” he said, half-believing it.

Her thumb rubbed against his skin. “What did Yuan say?” she asked him.

Lloyd gave a short laugh. “Too much…”

“Hey, I have time to listen.”

Even with that permission, it was hard for Lloyd to navigate through it all. His wings drooped down, their span spreading across the grass, his feathers skewing or growing crooked from the position. But how else was he supposed to use them? It was easier to let them rest right on the forest floor, feeling his feathers warm up from the sun.

And it was easier to lay things out for her, of the angels who felt their transformation without any complaints, except for Remiel. He felt her stiffen at the mentioned name but said nothing. He tried not to dwell on how he was causing her pain by speaking, but she had asked him to talk, and she never told him to stop. She was always strong like that.

All while the sapling that was the Great Tree was in the corner of his vision, catching the sunlight against its leaves.

“It’s probably because of my Exsphere why this happened to me so fast, and maybe because I’m human too,” he finally said, feeling worn out by the end. “And there’s no easy way to get rid of them.”

His wings stayed low, even as the wind picked up, rustling a few loose feathers to be picked up by the wind. There was an instinctive urge in him to reach out and grab them, to hide them away. He only stopped because his hands were already holding Colette’s.

She was idly tracing patterns into his palm—not words this time. Maybe pictures, maybe following along lifelines hidden underneath his gloves. “But there is a way,” she said quietly.

Yes, he tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t leave. It stuck inside his throat like a stone.

Why did he shake at the very thought?

All he could think of was that angel huddled against a broken pillar, her wings twisted, demanding for them to be gone.

Lloyd heard Colette shift around him. He raised his head, watched as her hands left his own. But she only did so to gently touch his left wing that had been lying mostly flat against the ground. She did so carefully, raising it just a bit to have part of the wingspan settle against her lap. The sunlight, filtering through other trees that surrounded the glade, seemed to wash over her in a light, green shade.

“Is…something up?” Lloyd asked. He still felt self-conscious about these things, even after flying with them briefly. Because, after flying, what could he exactly do with them?

“Hm, a few feathers are loose again,” Colette commented, her eyes now transfixed on his wing.

“Maybe because I kinda hit them against some stuff,” he grumbled. “Yuan has these pots that hang from the ceiling and they’re too low! It even hurt a little.”

Colette was still examining, running one hand down the underside of his wing. It made him shiver, but not because of fear this time. It felt, well, somewhat nice.

“I think you’re molting again,” she then said.

And the embarrassment came back in full force.

“Seriously?! Again?! These were just molting a week ago!” Lloyd pressed an open palm against his face, wishing he could dig underground. “Ugh, no wonder they kept feeling gross…”

But Colette didn’t seem to share the same sentiment. Still, she stroked her feathers, a smile forming on her face. “It just needs a little grooming. Oh! I have an idea.”

Lloyd watched as Colette reached into a hidden pocket in her dress. Out came what looked like a hairbrush, one that Lloyd remembered she had bought from a shop back in Flanoir, which was for…

“Isn’t that Blippy’s hairbrush?”

Colette nodded. “Yeah. But just like his fur can get a little much, your feathers do too. I know it’s not the same, but since you can’t really groom yourself—”

Lloyd pressed two palms against his face now. “Colette… I don’t want to be a pet…”

“Aw, you’re not a pet, Lloyd!” But he couldn’t help his suspicions when Colette easily took his wing in her arms, brushing with a downward stroke. “I don’t mind doing this.”

“Yeah, but…” He had to protest this, right? Colette had already tended to his wings enough already when they had first appeared. It felt shameful and so embarrassing, to need this, to always have something happening with his wings that he couldn’t just control.

But when he felt her fingers once more, how she cradled the wing with ease, he had to admit he liked it. And she did so without any hesitance, brushing against the tips with even strokes.

He still had his face in his hands, but his breathing came out easier. His pulse within his ears no longer paced as frantically. He felt some of his feathers come off, but not in pain. He snuck a small glance to his side, finding those same feathers floating down, mingling with the fallen leaves.

“Lloyd, it’s okay to want to keep your wings.”

He remained still, watching the feathers continue to drift down.

“I don’t think you were trying to find a way to get rid of them,” she continued. The brush against his wings felt so light and soothing. “You were trying to find a way to live with them somehow. Is that it?”

Suddenly, Lloyd remembered their first kiss from before. He wanted it again.

But he couldn’t really move. His body remained still, hands leaving his face to drop into his lap, feeling Colette brush his wings more and more. The feathers fell off like leaves, but only a few, and only to grow once again.

“It’s inconvenient though,” Lloyd said, watching the feathers and Colette’s shadow falling over them. “Isn’t it?”

Colette halted her brushing, but just so she could gather some of the feathers in her hand that wouldn’t leave by bristle alone. Some were messy, especially for the down, while the tips would either be crooked, half-bent. But she gathered them in a pile near her, the wind already beginning to shift them.

“They don’t have to be,” she answered easily. “Are you worried about that?”

Lloyd still felt some shame, so he couldn’t look at her yet. He turned his head towards the tree, wondering when Martel would come back, and if she would be holding the little kitten in her arms.

“I had a lot of weird dreams ever since I got these,” he confessed, feeling the path of her fingers against the hard little barbs that were left for some parts of his wings. “Like…I always had them? Or something like that.”

Colette kept her pace, but he felt her move a bit closer. His wing extended just slightly into her hands.

“The angels we fought on Derris-Kharlan, it felt like… I was like them in my dreams. That my wings were physical with all these feathers, and they would break sometimes. And that I would fight with them, and they would get injured. I would act like I didn’t feel it, or care about it except…in the dreams, they did hurt.” He furrowed his brows, an unease coursing through his chest at the memory. “They would hurt, but I had to pretend they didn’t. I don’t really know why.”

He took another breath, the hazy memories revealing more as the feathers fell. “I had different clothes, and even just trying to put them on hurt. I had to always keep them out, and fly with them, even when I got tired. Sometimes they didn’t even look right, or just broken.” Another pause, as more and more details came to light. “And Kratos was there, and his wings were—”

Or was he confusing something else instead?

“Sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”

When Colette moved, he knew it wasn’t to turn away, or walk away from him. But still, he felt a small fear. All he had done, ever since his new wings came into being, was complain. Yet her hands cradled his right wing now, seated on the other side so she could continue her brushing once more.

“Getting your wings was very hard,” she said softly. “It makes sense that your dreams would have them go through such painful things. But, they don’t have to always just be pain.”

Lloyd still doubted, keeping his eyes on the sapling, but feeling so sleepy now with Colette’s constant brushing. “I don’t know. You saw them when they were…” The pain of them solidifying, the tendons around his muscles adjusting, the blood that he remembered dripping down his back…

“I did. But after that, they always looked beautiful in the light, don’t you think?”

He turned to her then. Something in her voice just now, so earnest, not blind to the pain but embracing that along with something else. She had her own wings out, their light falling over his wings and the feathers that gathered on the ground like piles of snow.

I love you, he thought, but didn’t say. Everything kept catching in his throat. All the important things, all the time.

“Maybe now would be a good time to go home.” Colette gathered the feathers in her hand, letting the wind take it, toward the direction of the sapling that had grown only so much—but still, it had grown. “If you want.”

Just like before, she was asking him what he wanted to do. With guidance, and with love.

For the first time in a while, Lloyd didn’t feel afraid.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #yuan ka fai #kratos aurion #fanfiction #multi chapter #colloydweek2023

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