#the short king among the other soldiers <3
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[Full comic transcript under cut in addition to the alt text.]
So I've been working on a short comic, and here's a preview of the first five pages and the cover. They still need some cleanup and editing, and the rest of the pages of course, but I hope you enjoy them!
Images:
First is a cover, in greens, oranges and purples. Title: The Orc and Her Bride, A Comic by Zoe Maxine. The illustration shows a surprised orc woman in a fancy cape and circlet holding an equally surprised dark skinned elf woman in a creamy bridal dress and crown.
Page 1. Full page drawing of the orc woman, looking far more ramshackle, covered in blood on a pile of bodies, and holding a giant axe. She pants with exhaustion.
Page 2. She looks over to see three people murmuring around a nearby building.
Orc: "Don't tell me there's more."
The three pointy eared people approach, looking frightened.
Bearded man with his hands raised: "Mistress - Please, have mercy."
The Orc is shocked, before she looks down, muttering, "Not looking forward to this part."
Looking at the bearded fellow she says, "I will not harm the unarmed."
Sighing, the bearded man says, "Thank you, Mistress."
Avoiding his eyes, the orc says, "I don't deserve your thanks. I have killed many of your brethren."
Page 3. Two of the people exchange a look between them, faces neutral.
Bearded one: "…Our soldiers, yes."
The other, an older woman with short hair, looks at the orc. "Mistress, where do you come from?"
Bearded one: "Why have you done this?"
A shadow passes over the orc's face. "I am from Eskerfort."
The next panel shows her saying "And… because I am from Eskerfort." over a flashback to her kneeling on the ground, defeated, in front of burning houses with soldiers barely visible in the background.
The two people in the present look away, almost ashamed, saying "Ah," with understanding.
Page 4. Looking down at the bodies below her, the orc says, "I am tired of bloodshed. I have avenged my kin. I will darken your doorways no more and leave you in peace."
As she turns to leave, however, the beareded one rushes forward. "Wait! Worrier! Stop! Please!"
The elfin woman looks up at her, asking, "Do you not know our laws?"
Together the two try to point out something to the orc. "Look, please!" "Look!"
Among the bodies is a fancily dressed one wearing a circlet.
Off-panel, the people say, "That one you killed among the dead - he was our king."
One of them reaches down to grab the circlet.
Page 5: Looking concerned, the orc woman says, "Are you asking me to be executed? For Regicide?"
As the elfin woman is doing something, the bearded one puts his hands on his hips and looks up sternly. "No, Warrior, we are asking you to take responsibility."
The elfin woman holds the circlet up to the orc. It shines. "Our laws are clear," she says, "Whoever kills the king becomes the new king."
The orc stares ahead, eyes becoming pinpricks. "What?"
The next panel has her dressed in a fur lined cape with the circlet on her head, her hair being brushed. She has the exact same expression on her face. "what?"
The last panel has her sitting at the head of a long table with all the elfin people enjoying themselves around her. "what"
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Hi!
Welcome to the askblog! This is where you can ask questions directly to Prisma and her friends. My main is @startistdoodles (where likes/follows come from). I have posts regarding all my headcanons tagged there under #kirby worldbuilding.
A few notes upfront:
Depending on the amount of asks I receive, I may not be able to respond to every one of them. Please understand.
On a similar note, please refrain from repeatedly asking the same/similar question multiple times.
Please keep asks PG-13 at most.
The characters are not omnipotent, so lore-related questions about the world or things they may not know will be moved over to @startistdoodles .
My AU follows both anime and game lore, so characters from either can be asked about. Generally anyone who is not dead is free to talk.
Side modes such as Knightmare and Dededetour are not canon to my AU. However, Soul Bosses and Magolor Epilogue are canon.
That's about it! I'll update this post with anything else if needed.
Under the cut is information on some of the characters of interest.
Prisma Knight
Prisma Knight (she/her) is a Star Warrior turned queen after she got into an accident involving Dark Matter that resulted in her losing her wings. Ashamed, she fled her troop and went into hiding on Planet Permafrost. There she was crowned queen after saving the inhabitants from a terrifying threat.
Many years later, she reunited with her old friend Meta Knight and was brought to Popstar, where she currently lives with her servants and new friends.
Kirby
Kirby (he/him or they/them) is a young Star Warrior that arrived on Planet Popstar a couple years ago. Ever since then, his incredible power has been put to the test as he stands up against terrifying threats. But he is never fazed and goes right back to naptime after every battle.
Kirby is still a child (about 3-5 in human years) and his speech isn't the best. He resorts to communicating with drawings or gestures alongside his babbling. His friends can often help suggest what he might be trying to say.
Meta Knight
Meta Knight (he/him) is a mostly retired Star Warrior who resides on Planet Popstar and serves as a watchful knight who aims to protect the planet alongside his crew, the Meta-Knights, aboard his Battleship Halberd. He serves as a mentor to Kirby, as well as a sort of parental figure (despite him disagreeing with the latter).
Many years ago, he and Prisma Knight along with Sir Falspar, Sir Nonsurat and Sir Dragato were in the same troop in the GSA (Galaxy Soldier Army). He presumed Prisma dead when she went missing, but was reunited with her many years later.
King Dedede
King Dedede (he/him) is the self-proclaimed king of Dreamland. Once a greedy and stubborn king, he has since chilled out quite a bit and now acts as a proud ruler (now with 10% less stubbornness!) that many respect. While he can still be loud and hotheaded at times, he cares deeply for his friends and especially his Waddle Dee family.
He and Kirby are friendly rivals, and he will defend his little buddy with everything he's got.
Bandana Waddle Dee
Bandana Waddle Dee (he/him - Bandee for short) is the king's right-hand Waddle Dee. A soldier in training, he assists in the defense of Castle Dedede and even hangs out in town looking for ways he can help others.
He is also one of Kirby's best friends, and the two are almost always seen hanging out together.
Dark Matter Blade
Dark Matter Blade (he/him or it/its - usually shortened to 'Dark Matter', 'Dark Blade' or simply 'Dark') is the former right-hand of Lord Zero, the incarnation of pure dark energy. While once highly respected among his kind, after failing his first big mission of killing a Star Warrior and then again failing to defeat Kirby in his invasion of Popstar many years later, he was forced to flee the Dark Matter tribe under threat of being killed by his master. So, he returned to Popstar where he was reunited with Gooey.
Nowadays he spends his time with his new friends, though is still distrusted by some. He wishes to lead a life of peace and comfort and as such shys away from conflict and confrontation. His relationship with Prisma is very tense — they don’t speak much.
Mochi
Mochi (he/him or they/them) is a new baby that recently landed on Popstar. There is something strange and somewhat dark about him...but he seems sweet enough so Prisma is raising him.
Sidia Knight
Sidia Knight (he/him) is Prisma Knight's old mentor and father figure. After going MIA during the great war that demolished the GSA, he was stranded on Galacta Star for nearly a century. Eventually, he reunites with Quiver Knight and they settle down and live happily together as a married couple.
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Ecthelion + sunlight?
Thank you for the prompt! I listened to Hozier's "Sunlight" while writing this fic. Hope you enjoy. <3
Sunlight (~800 words, Glorthelion)
How Ecthelion became fond of sunlight. Or, a love story.
On Ao3 and below!
Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, cannot say he has ever been fond of sunlight. As a child, he loved the rain, for it was an excuse to stay inside and read his favorite books. He also has sensitive eyes, so whenever the sun’s rays hit the white marble of Gondolin, he recoils at the harsh glare and wishes this city had been constructed out of darker stone. What is more, sunlight lays everything bare: the beauty of Gondolin, surely, but also its ugliness. Its poverty and power discrepancies. The fear in King Turgon’s eyes at the smallest mention of Morgoth. And the uncertain look on Ecthelion’s face every time he sees Glorfindel.
Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, was made for sunlight. He is a tall, chiseled elf with a cascade of sunflower-yellow hair and a cheerful smile. Glorfindel and Ecthelion are both soldiers, but therein lies the extent of their similarities. Ecthelion has straight, black hair to Glorfindel’s curly blond. While Ecthelion is known for having a beautiful voice, Glorfindel cannot carry a tune. Where Ecthelion is taciturn, Glorfindel could talk a person’s ear off. Yet not with nonsense – no, Glorfindel is well-spoken, and intelligent, and enthusiastic about everything from swordsmanship to Gondolin’s architecture. Ecthelion is, lamentably, in love with him.
Why “lamentably?” Because there is no chance that Glorfindel feels the same way. They are friendly, but not friends. Besides, Glorfindel has more than a reasonable number of impressive suitors, so even if Ecthelion were among them, there is no reason why the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower should pick him.
Which is why Ecthelion can’t believe it when one day, Glorfindel comes up to him as he stands watch at the Gate of Steel, offers him a bouquet of roses, and asks,
“May I court you?”
Ecthelion’s mind is racing. Yes, of course, Valar, yes, he wants to say, but instead, the first word that comes out of his mouth is,
“Why?”
Glorfindel’s eyes widen, and he bursts out laughing.
“Why? Because I find you kind, and intelligent, and unbearably fair.”
“No, that’s you,” Ecthelion says, like an idiot.
Glorfindel beams at this. Carefully, he holds out the flowers again.
“What do you think?”
There is a hopeful, almost tender look in his eyes; Ecthelion cannot help but smile.
“I think… Yes, you may court me,” he agrees, and the expression on Glorfindel’s face is blinding.
Sunlight, Ecthelion thinks.
****
As it turns out, their courtship is short. Not because anyone is rushing them, but because they fall so deeply in love that they do not see the point in waiting. At first, the other Lords laugh to see Ecthelion and Glorfindel infatuated with each other, but soon enough, they view the couple with fondness, for they can see the affection between them, and it is true. As tradition goes in Gondolin, the courted party asks the courter to marry them, and so it falls to Ecthelion to pose the question.
In a familiar gesture, he offers Glorfindel a bouquet of roses one day. They are in their chambers, after work, for it is raining outside. Besides, Ecthelion wants this moment to be just between the two of them.
“Thank you, my love.” Glorfindel buries his face in the flowers for a moment, looking content. “They’re beautiful. What’s the occasion?”
Ecthelion can feel his heart climb into his chest as he drops to one knee and takes a ring out of his pocket.
“Oh,” Glorfindel breathes. “Is it time?”
“If we wish it. I would say that we have all the time in the world, but I find I cannot bear to spend another moment without being wed to you. Glorfindel, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he gasps, and sweeps Ecthelion into his arms. His embrace is warm, as always, but this is the first time Ecthelion has thought of it: like sunlight.
They marry a year before Gondolin falls.
****
When the end comes, Ecthelion is one of the first to witness it. He climbs up to the ramparts of Gondolin to see Morgoth’s army approach. It is, without a doubt, monstrous. The screeches of dragons, the roars of balrogs, and the heavy footsteps of orcs resound in Ecthelion’s ears, even though they are miles away. Yet that is not all. Trailing after this army of dread is a dense thundercloud, and the last thing Ecthelion wishes is for this battle to happen in the pouring rain.
Suddenly, below him, the gates of Gondolin open, if only for a moment. He gazes down, and whom does he see in the crowd of soldiers but his husband? Glorfindel is dressed for war, in his full battle armor and with his hair neatly braided. He surveys the landscape before him, including the advancing army, and begins to shout orders to a nearby captain. Ecthelion’s heart swells at the sight of him; at the same time, he shivers in fear. How will this war end for Gondolin? For Glorfindel? For him?
At that moment, Glorfindel looks up and catches sight of Ecthelion on the ramparts. Ecthelion waves, for what can he do? He sees the answering smile on Glorfindel’s face, brighter than anything he’s ever known, and he chants it like a prayer:
Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.
----
Thank you for reading. <3 If you'd like, leave a comment and kudos on Ao3, or like and reblog this post!
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word reaches quickly among those laid up in the makeshift med tent, injured soldiers and healers alike. despite everyone's best efforts in the name of their own house, a tie between all three had been the decided outcome. it wasn't a loss, but it certainly wasn't a win either... the idea damaged his pride just as badly as his personal defeat had. perhaps the years away from his homeland had softened him in ways he could not perceive.
that or each opponent he faced, all from the black eagles, were strong in their own right. though he had prevailed in his first match, it had not been an easy victory, and the toll of that battle followed him into the next. sloppy movements and a slow mind lead to his own defeat. even worse, he hadn't been able to deal the deciding blow on anyone... he had been forced to leave it up to the others. teamwork was rewarded in gauntlets like this, but still... maybe he would meet the girl with a wild axe again, or maybe that gaudy man with an interesting outfit.
as he lamented his spectacular loss to the eagles, the king spotted their very own leader passing by. now that the battles had officially concluded, he supposed it made sense she would be joining them all. had she made it farther than him, or had she fallen short of him? it mattered little, but his curiosity at her own strengths was peaked enough for him to make his way over. "greetings," he introduced his presence swiftly, "congratulations of your efforts, your house was a force not to be trifled with."
"each one proved a suitable challenge... i was not disappointed." silently, ephraim wished that he had been able to gauge her talents for himself. alas, one could not pick the battle that had to fight, at least not with certainty. nor would he trade for anyone he had fought on the field, they all had pushed him to fight his best. "i'd like to know, though, how well did their leader fare this year? i've heard tale that 'lady edelgard is as strong as all 3 houses put together.' might that be true?"
Reds, yellows, and blues sprinkle the field of victory— A three way tie. She can't claim to have been expecting that nor did she believe it possible.. Within this mock battle, they all celebrate together. Once, there was war between the Empire and Kingdom. Today, there are cheers. Realistic this may not be for years to come, Edelgard is pleased with what she has seen and witnessed on the ground's past history.
She is equipped with an answer to the question; words clear and confident. "Thank you," she begins. "The Black Eagles are composed of many strong faces. We were able to prevail in thanks to their dedicated efforts. I would be interested in hearing more about your battles against my peers. Doing so will allow us all to continue growing." A person cannot improve without realistic challenges; she will take up the mantle of encouraging that very prospect.
A petite laugh leaves lined lips, brushing her hair away from her face: "Strong as I might be, my ambitions aren't sated just yet. I was able to defeat a few opponents of my own, but there came a certain point I was forced to retreat." She had not even caught the names of the Blue Lions back then, only leaving behind a trail of words as she had gracefully left the field. One day, should their paths cross again. "It's unfortunate, but I regret nothing. In the end, it seems every house won. I extend my congratulations to the Blue Lions, as well."
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Manga I Enjoyed in 2022
Happy New Year, everyone! I know this is somewhat late, but better late than never. I originally wanted to do this in a video format like I did for my favorite 2021 manga. But after some health issues that started late last year and finally went away this month, I decided to write about my favorite manga of 2022 instead of recording myself in an awkward manner.
Here we go!
Honorable Mention: Choujin X by Sui Ishida - This title reminds me so much of Masakazu Katsura’s ZETMAN. It’s about a young man named Tokio Kurohara who suddenly becomes a supernatural being called a Choujin after being attacked by one in the street. Tokio then enters a world where he meets other Choujins, good and bad, and realizes that he’s part of a larger scheme that potentially involves him being a “god/savior” of all Choujins. I love the art and the story is fascinating. I feel that this is potentially Ishida at his finest when he’s not being rushed to create a fun story (which is what happened with Tokyo Ghoul: re). I’m glad that chapters of this series are somewhat sporadic as it allows time for a more structured story and one that I know Ishida is wanting to tell.
On to my top 5 of the year!
No.5 - Kaiju No. 8 by Naoya Matsumoto - After Spy x Family and Chainsaw Man, this is the next big breakout anime hit from Shueisha. Kafka Hibino was once a young man who wanted to become a kaiju-fighting soldier alongside his childhood friend, but instead is now a 30+-year old cleaner of kaiju remains. He one day encounters a certain powerful kaiju who enters his body. Kafka becomes a threat of humanity all while retaining his. He enters a kaiju defense force in order to control his abilities and protect those he cares about.
When I saw promotional art of the series posted all over France last year, I realized I had to check this series out. I’m so glad I did. The art is amazing, the story is intense, and the soldier outfits are really cool. Kaiju No. 8 satisfies any fan looking for something new that’s similar to Attack on Titan.
No. 4 - Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End by Kanehito Yamada and Tsukasa Abe - I don’t really hear many people talk about this series, but I feel this is one of the best fantasy stories I’ve read in a while. It also has one of the best manga heroines this decade so far. Frieren is a long-living elf who once saved the world from a demon king alongside a group of adventurers. 50 years later, she embarks on another journey to see off the hero who changed her life long after his death all while making note of humanity’s struggle to define themselves with the short life span they’re given.
I feel that this series is somewhat Yotsuba&!-ish in terms of having memorable chapters that are one-offs. However, when it gets to the major story arcs, Frieren excels in delivering gut punches. The flashback scenes are amazing and Frieren has a variety of facial expressions that make readers appreciate her. I have kept up with the Japanese releases and the story keeps getting better and better. This series has a way of making you think about human nature.
No. 3 - Akane-banashi by Yuki Suenaga and Takamasa Moue - I got into this series in the Fall after hearing Hideaki Anno and Eiichiro Oda praise it. This is arguably the best series in Weekly Shonen Jump right now and it’s not even a battle manga. Akane Osaki, a young girl whose father was a rakugo performer, is on a mission to become the best rakugo performer in all of Japan after her father was shamed in front of a major rakugo audience. It’s very refreshing and the hype does remind me of the early days of The Promised Neverland.
This manga is a really good case of how to use art and panels to tell a very cool and well-paced story. I also love how the main character is written as she stands out among the many popular male Jump protagonists. I think what makes this series so good is how relatable the characters and setting are. There’s always something exciting happen in every chapter because of that.
No.2 - Sensei’s Pious Lie by Akane Torikai - This series isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and I can’t recommend this to anyone who’s experienced sexual trauma and hasn’t healed completely from it. But I can’t help but be enamored with seeing how messy the characters in this series are. Misuzu Hara, a teacher, is a victim of sexual abuse by her best friend’s husband. One day, she finds out a male student of hers is interested in her. Misuzu then learns the student is also a victim of sexual abuse and the two become involved in a complicated entanglement that affects everyone around them.
This is a very uncomfortable read, but I understood what Torikai was trying to say. When it comes to love and sex, people get caught up with the worst aspects of both in terrifying ways. And there’s ways to overcome them when possible. People are often known as monsters to many are still human beings at their core. You can still care about someone and want them out of your life for good. There’s no one to root in this series and I’m glad Kodansha USA brought this work over because sex (and especially sexual violence) is very often a difficult topic to talk about and life is sadly never that black or white.
No.1 - Goodbye, Eri by Tatsuki Fujimoto - Another Fujimoto one-shot on what it means to live in the face of loss. I’ve written about this one-shot in the past and the last pages still stick out to me to this day. I appreciate how Fujitomo uses the main character in a way that shows how a major loss of a relationship can affect someone even when they get older.
I want to remember people who will eventually leave me and celebrate their lives. I just hate how everyone is pressed to move on and not process whatever grief they will experience over their lifetime. Goodbye, Eri is highly relevant to everyone today because there’s only so much one can take when it comes to death and when we don’t take the time to talk about it in a productive way with people who will listen, we lose what makes humanity beautiful. In a time where some folks are talking about immortality and living on via technology, this manga reminds me that what we really want from life is genuine and unconditional love from people.
I hope you enjoyed this list and here’s to a fun 2023 full of exciting manga titles to read!
#manga#manga of 2022#manga favorites#Choujin X#Kaiju No. 8#Frieren: Beyond Journey's End#Akane-banashi#Sensei's Pious Lie#Goodbye Eri
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The Duke & The Witch - Ch. 3
Charles Brandon x Fem!OC, A The Tudors Slight-AU fic
Series Main List
Ch. 3 Warnings: Kinda-stalker Charles; discussion of witchcraft; period-typical attitudes towards everything (women, religion, witchcraft, etc.); fantastical squinty science/alchemy
Two weeks later, the memory gnaws at him. He can still taste the cloying red powder on his tongue, feeling it coat the interior of his nose as it sets fire to his body. How is it possible that a red dust could stoke such crippling arousal in a man? The dizzying rush of blood from his head to his cock had indeed rendered him stupid until he could hide away from his guards and take himself in hand behind a tree.
Not his finest moment.
But that makes it all the more intriguing. Who is the person behind the dark, faceless void of that cowl? Who commands such a powerful substance to utterly unman him – or anyone who appears as a threat – so quickly? And that’s in addition to the knowledge required to save a man’s life with a mud salve.
Is this truly the Devil’s work? Or something far earthlier? But who just carries around a handful of dust in hopes of throwing it in someone’s face? Or had the dust wordlessly been summoned into being?
The endless possibilities play in his mind, a nagging loop that threatens to distract him from official business. And as much as he wants to seek out answers - to try another attempt at capturing her for questioning - he can’t ignore the duty to his duchy or his King for too long.
Mercifully, Henry hasn’t summoned Charles back to court yet. Serving as lord of his duchy keeps Charles plenty busy without getting tangled up in the machinations of court life. When Henry had bestowed the dukedom and duchy to him, he hadn’t fully understood what it meant. But the intervening years have improved his education in trade, commerce, and political relations. He serves as the King’s representative among the people, and he can scarce afford to spend days in the woods on a witch hunt.
When Cromwell arrives unannounced the following day, Charles swallows his intense displeasure. Cromwell has always been an unwelcome visitor on a good day, let alone when he comes bearing the weight of the Oath and Act of Succession. Charles had been quite pleased to leave that whole conflict behind him in London, but he isn’t naïve enough to think that he’d escaped it in full. He just hasn’t expected it to show up on his doorstep. Or his archery range.
The sheer nerve of Cromwell to accost him so. A soldier of fortune, indeed. Bulls-eyeing Charles’ archery target like he owns it. For someone of so low birth, his meteoric rise within Henry’s court in such a short time is dizzying. It remains a mystery to Charles – as does the man himself – but a mystery that is not to be trusted. He needs look no further than the well-placed arrow to know that.
But then Cromwell shares the words from the King. Charles’ noted absence. The plea for Charles to return.
Of course.
Henry just has to have it all. The new wife. The bliss that comes with a new marriage. And his vanity that demands an audience for the whole disgusting display that rots Charles’ stomach. Not that he would ever dare voice such a thought aloud, but the Westhorpe countryside has provided a welcome peace to his life.
A peace that the witch has turned into a lingering curiosity. A puzzle to be studied.
But within a fortnight after Cromwell’s departure, he sets affairs to temporary rights and journeys once again to St. Edmunds. If drawing her out the first time worked so well before, then maybe it will work again. Charles is, after all, a sporting hunter and the thrill of the chase always excites him.
He doesn’t have much else to go on other than the knowledge that she helps people in times of need. But has she been so stung by his last attempt to question her that she’s retreated into hiding? Or will she still show herself when the villagers speak of pain and suffering?
This time, he sends one of his own guards directly to the tanner with strict instructions to fabricate another story of a grave accident. It shouldn’t take long after that before news spreads through the village square. As the guard rejoins Charles’ party on the village outskirts, a hopeful smile tugs his lips. The hunting dogs scratch against their wood crates as they wait and the scent of victory carries on the breeze.
He’s underestimated this witch once before but he’ll be damned if it happens again.
Day yields to night before turning back to day, and his patience pays off. He almost doesn’t believe his eyes when the dark cloaked figure appears through the trees and steadily approaches the village. A phantom sight among the green landscape that burns bright in the late afternoon sun.
He turns towards his men, sheltered behind a hidden building. “Come on, men.” He encourages before turning back to the treeline. “Keep close now.”
The rumble of hunting dog crate wooden wheels sounds against the rutted dirt lane behind him as his four guards follow him. He leads his party forward, stepping into clear view, and he doesn’t miss the dark cowl that turns towards him. The intensity of the witch’s eyeless stare hits him like a palpable force as he continues forward on measured steps.
The thrill of the hunt sings in Charles’ veins as he squares his shoulders. “Witch in the woods.” He stops, mindful not to get too close. “The accusation of witchcraft against you still stands, and after our last meeting, you have much to answer for. Despite your previous attack on my person, I make you the same offer - surrender and you will not be harmed.”
The cowl tilts in silent consideration.
Holding his ground, he stares down the shadows where a face should be. “You needn’t make this difficult. If you try to attack again, you will meet with the consequences.” He takes a step forward, watching the cloaked figure draw back an equal step. A draped arm rises but the movement is slow, deliberate.
A warning, then.
He nods to his men over his shoulder. “Bring the hounds.”
The cowl turns sharply to look behind him, to where his men undo the latches on the crates and speak to the dogs in low, inciting tones.
Charles’ mouth pulls to a victorious half-smirk as he glances back at the witch. “Run, if you must. But rest assured, that even if your powers are of the Devil, your human scent will not escape their noses. And neither will you escape my custody.”
With a flourish of heavy cloth, the witch turns and flees back towards the security of the woods. He watches her go, sighing in equal parts tedium and satisfaction. Some sporting activity after such sedentary waiting will be nice. He’s purposefully dressed in brown leather trousers, loose linen shirt and simple vest, forsaking the formal adornments of his station to not slow a foot chase.
He turns back to his men and gives the signal. The dogs are guided over on sturdy leather leads and taken to the spot where the witch last stood. They start to bark and pull against their masters, eager to follow the scent as it sticks in their noses. With his eyes still fixed on the witch’s retreating figure, Charles doesn’t hesitate to give the final command. The guards release the dogs, and they all charge after the cloaked figure.
Charles and his men give chase, hearts pounding as their legs carry them into the woods. The baying hounds follow the witch, and he can just see the hooded figure darting through the trees, trying to escape. But as the dogs close in, there’s nowhere to go.
His chest heaves as he moves, watching the witch stop near the base of a large tree. He nearly trips over a tree root as a gloved hand shoots out from beneath the cloak to grasp a sturdy branch. The witch hauls herself up before reaching for another successive branch. The dogs converge at the tree trunk, jumping and barking to signal the end of their successful hunt even as the witch continues to pull herself up into the foliage.
The corner of Charles’ mouth ticks up, equal parts impressed and dumbfounded. He slows to a stop, breathing deep as he stares up at the dark figure perched on a hearty branch just out of reach. He looks back at his men. “Secure the dogs and surround the tree. She can’t get away from us now.”
The cowl tilts with obvious interest as the dogs are put back on their leads and wrangled into submission by their handlers. But otherwise, she sits unmoving, crouched low and still fully concealed by the cloak. Honestly, Charles is impressed that she can move so well in such a garment.
He looks up at her again, catching his breath. “You cannot stay up there forever. Throw down whatever arsenal you have on your person and come down. You haven’t attacked yet, so we have no reason to harm you yet.” The return of that peerless, intense gaze ripples a shiver up his spine. “Or would you rather wait until hunger sets in? Or some other need? Eventually, you will either climb down or fall down. Surrender is your best option.”
The hooded head tilts further. Whether it’s in consideration or suspicion of his offer, he can’t say, but it tests his patience. A cornered quarry can only deny the end of the chase for so long.
He raises his right hand, balled in a tight fist where it’s plainly visible. “When the last of my fingers points towards the sky, you will have made a decision.” He extends his pinky finger, followed by his ring finger, watching as she remains still. “We will surround this tree and wait for you to weaken and fall.” His middle finger extends to join the other two. “And after that test on my patience, you will not find me so merciful.” It’s mostly a bluff, but he’s always had a good face for gambling. His index finger follows the other three, and the hooded head dips down.
Her right hand reaches over to pull back the left sleeve and he watches, enraptured. A contraption sits strapped to her forearm - metal and leather, from what he can see at the distance. No glimpse of skin, just more dark cloth of sleeves and gloves beneath the cloak as her fingers work to loosen the contraption. It falls from her hands with a dull thud to the leafy forest floor.
He walks over to it, immensely curious. Various straps and buckles lay against the ground, and the device holds several small pouches, even a lever or two. And are those… he doesn’t know, but they resemble tiny fireplace bellows. The entirely mysterious apparatus stuns him as he studies it.
Rustling in the tree above distracts his attention, and he glances up to see her carefully descending the branches. It strikes him that she’s well practiced at this – the cowl doesn’t fall, the cloak doesn’t move to reveal her body beneath. But eventually, her feet land on the ground and she freezes in place. Something about her standing there, so close, so still, makes the hairs on his neck stand up.
Especially as she raises both arms, pulling at the cloak sleeves to reveal no further hidden apparatuses or weapons. Then, she simply holds her arms out straight with wrists together - a true sign of surrender.
His apprehension grows. Something feels horribly wrong about this whole situation. His brow creases with immediate suspicion as he calls out. “Shackles.” He holds a hand out to accept the metal bonds, but he doesn’t dare turn his gaze from her.
The heavy weight of the metal falls into his hand and he steps forward, securing them around her wrists. Frustration gnaws at him as she doesn’t even flinch, and he doesn’t think twice before ripping the hood back to reveal the person beneath.
The word witch has always stirred certain images in his mind – aged, disfigured, ugly, dependent on unholy powers because she has no other graces to offer society. But the woman that stares back at him now does not match with those images. Her eyes hold a bright green tint – the color of grass in spring – and a striking air of calmness where he expected to see fear, or maybe even panic. Her face looks pleasant enough, not striking in beauty but certainly not the hag from childhood tales. She might be his age, or maybe somewhat older. The braided plaits of hair along her temples disguise her age, giving way to a waterfall of wild curls beyond.
Nothing about her appearance soothes his unease. Working a swallow down his throat, he reaches for his knife and without a word, begins cutting away the rough material of her cloak.
She voices no protest as the fabric falls away. He slices up each arm, through the shoulder and down the back, to let the tatters fall to the forest floor. He braces to find a weapon - or another object of power or defense - but his face falls to find none. She wears a dress of crude material that has clearly seen several seasons but is well-cared for, with no frayed ends or open seams.
His curiosity burns. Just who is this woman? And why is she taking her arrest so well? He tears his gaze away from her with a frustrated sigh. “Take her.”
***
The guards slam the door shut behind her, rattling the small iron-bar window with an uncanny finality. Avian blows a nervous sigh, fighting back the nagging uncertainty within her. So far, so good - but it won’t take much for all of this to go fatally wrong.
The lead man - the one from before - has surprised her with the dogs today. She didn’t expect such a vigorous or potentially vicious pursuit, but she refuses to make the mistake of underestimating him again. No matter how the memory of the snarling dogs sends shivers down her spine.
Or maybe that’s from the cell’s damp chill? Her dress provides some warmth, but not enough to ward off the unpleasant air of the St. Edmunds’ garrison dungeon. Faint light leaks in around the heavy door frame, but otherwise the cell sits in darkness. She shivers again, glancing around in the dim shadows. How many souls have faced despair and death within these walls? The disheartening thought threatens to distract her, but she needs to stay focused. Focused for the return of her captor. Focused on her plan for escape.
But how long will they make her wait?
The door handle clanks from the outside, drawing her attention. She draws a deep breath, bracing for whatever awaits on the other side. The lock rattles and the hinges of the heavy door groan open. Firelight pours into the cell from a torch as a guard enters first, followed by the same, finely-dressed man who arrested her.
The flickering firelight catches in his glacial gaze as he crosses the cell, studying her. “Leave us.” His rich voice carries the hard command despite its soft volume.
With a muttered assent, the guard places the torch in a wall sconce and closes the door after him.
She works a hard swallow down her throat, forcing herself to stand tall as his silent scrutiny continues. But as he studies her, so she studies him. The torch light casts a golden sheen to his fine dark attire, painting him in startlingly attractive lines. He’s by far more handsome than she'd originally thought, with striking blue eyes that paint an appealing contrast to the dark curls of his hair and scruff on his jaw. He stands with an imposing air of authority and confidence.
Especially as he holds her arm gauntlet of powders.
He hefts the contraption in his hand. “Are you only as powerful as the powders you carry?”
“No.” Her pride grows at the surety of her tone. “There is no power in self-preservation.”
“And what of those wares that you use to help others?”
“No more powerful than what you hold in your hand.”
His gaze drops to the gauntlet, studying the powders concealed in the thin muslin cloth pouches. He traces a thumb over the pouch containing the dark-red passion powder. “You would be wise to measure your words more carefully.” He says, looking up at her with a sudden, threatening air. “I know firsthand what this powder will do to a man.”
“That does not make it powerful. Drink it and you will feel nothing. Rub it on your skin and you will feel even less,” she counters, holding her head high. “The knowledge to wield it is what makes it powerful.”
His head tilts with piqued interest. “You freely admit to this otherworldly knowledge?”
“Those powders are of this world. As is the knowledge to use them.”
“And I suppose the same is true of St. Edmunds’ mud man, hmm? And the wolfsbane, too?” The corner of his mouth lifts with a grin, sharpened in the dancing shadows. “But what of the rumor about the raven and the lightning?”
“That would be saying too much.”
His gaze hardens with displeasure. “You have been detained to ascertain if you are indeed an abomination of God’s holy law – a purveyor of the Devil’s work among us - and you will answer when questioned.”
She glances up at him sharply. “You are not a priest. Your authority to judge my soul – to judge me a true witch – is of no consequence.”
“I am the Duke of Suffolk, with full power to act on the King’s authority.” His eyes flash to match the steel in his voice. “You will show me the respect for my station and address me as ‘Your Grace’.”
Her brow furrows in open confusion. “Your Grace?” Her eyes rake him up and down, still working to understand. This – he – is the Duke of Suffolk? The village tales give the impression of an older, wiser man who bears his title, but they talk about him all the same. A personal friend of King Henry VIII. The nobleman without a noble birthright. The man who rules his duchy with uncommon fairness and stern dedication.
The silence continues to stretch as their gazes meet, and she can’t help but stare. Heat burns her cheeks as she finally blinks away, exhaling in determination and resignation. “Very well, Your Grace.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied. “You profess to have knowledge of this world, but the tales about you would have anyone believe that you also possess a knowledge beyond. If plainly asked, would you confess to this?”
“If plainly asked?” She wets her top lip in a moment of consideration. “If plainly asked, I would plainly answer. Though, what would it gain me? I do not expect that I shall be here much longer.” A thrill of victory flares in her chest as his brow contorts with surprised confusion that mirrors in the twitch of his lips.
“Is that indeed what you expect?” His smirk grows. “And if I told you that you would never leave here, except in a coffin?”
“I would say that you are wrong.”
“This is not a negotiation.”
“No – you have already made that clear.” She says, indicating the surrounding cell. “I am a prisoner and this is an interrogation.”
“If you believe this is an interrogation, I’m sure there are those on the rack who would beg to differ.”
“But you have learned at least one thing.” She does her best to hold his gaze despite the height difference and the pounding of her heart. “You have learned that I will not be kept here.”
His lips lift with wicked playfulness in the torchlight. “As you say, my witch.” He looks towards the door, lazily tossing her gauntlet to the stone floor before stepping forward with predatory movements. “Then, let us see what other tricks you might be hiding.”
She stiffens as his hands rise, fingers wrapping around each wrist. He slides his hands upwards, searching for hidden objects concealed beneath her dress sleeves. Stepping to one side, he shifts one hand to settle at the top of her back and the other along her collarbone. Her lips purse with indignant displeasure as his hands move in sweeping patterns down her shoulders, across her breasts, along her spine as his eyes follow the movement. He continues to sweep down her stomach and the small of her back, ghosting across the swell of her backside before he couches down. She draws a sharp inhale as his hands work under her skirt, feeling around her ankles and moving up her legs.
He chuckles softly. “Unusual to encounter woolen chausses on a woman.” His smirk holds a naughty glint as his hands continue up and over the fitted cloth leggings, feeling around her thighs for any hidden objects.
“They are sturdier – oh!” The unbidden gasp leaves her as he brushes boldly against the place between her legs. Blessedly, he does not linger and his hands soon work down her other leg.
Gritting her teeth against the rest of his search, her eyes blaze with indignation as his hands fall away. He stands to his full, formidable height and the triumphant smirk on his face infuriates her. “Unarmed as you are,” he says cheekily. “I look forward to watching you affect the means of your escape.” He chuckles softly, clearly amused at her expense. “I hear you can release smoke from your fingertips. Perhaps the rest of you turns into smoke, as well? Or will you transform into a beast? A cat, perhaps?” He chuckles to himself again before turning back towards the cell door. Bending at the waist, he stoops to retrieve the abandoned gauntlet. “Tell me your name.”
She bites her lip in a moment of deliberation. Giving her real name will give him far too much power over her. “Marion,” she says at last.
“Marion.” His dubious tone mirrors in his gaze. “You are aware that there are implements to loosen even the most unwilling of tongues just down the corridor?”
A chilly shiver races down her spine but she refuses to falter. “I’m aware, Your Grace.”
“Then, I am most looking forward to our next talk. Assuming that you’re still here, that is.” He reaches for the door handle, admitting more firelight from the corridor beyond as he exits. The guard follows in his wake, entering to retrieve the torch before slamming the door shut and plunging her back into darkness.
Her fingers itch to reach for the braid on her right temple, to move forward with the escape plan. But it’s too soon. She can’t make it too obvious, even if he does take the bait and put her under observation. A heavy sigh passes her lips as she glances around the dark confines.
She has nothing but time now. Time to wait for him to return. Time to wait for night to fall.
Or, at least, when she guesses night has fallen.
***
Marion. Charles ought to have been insulted.
He isn’t just a decent card player because of lady luck. He can readily tell a boldface bluff from the cold-hard truth. And the lie that colored the name Marion had been plain as day in her voice.
In some respects, he finds it admirable. As a captive, faced with imprisonment and the truth of his station, she still dares to blatantly defy him. She doesn’t strike him as a fool - indeed, a shrewd intelligence lurks in her eyes, and she hadn’t been lying when she spoke of escape.
Maybe that’s ultimately why he has given the order. Why he has directed the guards to shorten their patrols, to take up fewer stations on a defined exit path from the garrison dungeons. And why he now shrouds himself in the dark corridor shadows, using his black clothing to blend in as he waits outside her cell door.
He wants to see her escape.
With no one waiting for him back at Westhorpe, he doubts that he will be missed. His stomach sits full of bread and salted meat, and a nagging voice in the back of his head whispers with the desire for wine, but he settles for water instead. All in the name of this witch. This witch who he absolutely refuses to call Marion.
He will have her real name in time. All it takes is time.
Her cell door rattles, the hinges creaking softly under a gentle touch. He straightens, pressing further into the shadows as he watches the door push open. Her head peeks out behind the solid wood, eyes wide and wary as she takes in the empty corridor. One of the braided plaits at her temple has come undone and the wild hairs cast feral shadows over her face as she leaves her cell on silent footsteps.
Just how in blazes has she broken the lock?
He approaches the cell in the wake of her silence and squints down at the lock, trying to understand. The metal material has turned from its usual gray color to a reddish brown, and the solid material now crumbles with brittle hardness. Small specs of white dust linger around the worst of the damage and is that… is that liquid? Surely not water, but… saliva? His brow furrows as he blinks down at the damage.
What substance could possibly destroy metal with just saliva?
He doesn’t linger, starting his pursuit down the hallway and finding – much to his delight – that she has managed to evade all the posted guards. Leaving the garrison behind, it takes only a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark night and faint moonlight, but then he sees her.
She isn’t even trying to be subtle now as she flees down the shadowy lane. Then again, she probably doesn’t need to. If she always has worn that cloak, then no one knows what she looks like.
He keeps his distance as he follows her through the village, towards the outskirts and beyond to the edge of the woods. Every now and then, she casts a glance over her shoulder as if to confirm she isn’t being followed. Secretly, though, he can’t help but think that maybe – just maybe – she’s confirming that she hasn’t lost him.
The thought rushes a frisson of forbidden excitement through him. Excitement that he dares not linger on.
It grows trickier to follow her quickly and quietly through the forest underbrush, but he continues his pursuit, falling back a greater distance but still persisting. Will she unwittingly lead him to her home?
But then she stops. In the middle of a natural thinning of the trees, she stands perfectly still. Her hands rest by her side, the five fingers of her right hand extended as if she’s waiting to grasp something. A sense of forbidding grows in his gut as he steps carefully on a bed of moss, even more mindful to mask his movements now that silence falls around him.
The longer she stands there - seemingly waiting, seemingly listening - the more his suspicion grows. Has he unwittingly followed her into a trap of her own?
“Welcome, Your Grace.” Her voice rises above the soft night sounds of the forest. “Have you come to return me to your man-made hell?”
He moves out from behind the tree, showing himself plainly in the distant moonlight. “I have not yet decided what I shall do with you.”
“I can see that. Only curiosity would lead you out here.”
“Your surety betrays your situation.” He says, stepping into the small clearing as she continues to stand still. Her eyes are closed and the fingers of her right hand remain outstretched, but otherwise, he notices no other cautionary tell in her stance.
“I have every reason to be sure,” she says softly. “You claim judgment for my soul, but your tone belies your true interest. Even to the point of accepting my challenge of escape – including in aiding me, it seems.”
“Be assured, your freedom and presence here is only because I allowed it.”
“Yes. And you’ll drag me back to that cell with all the authority of your station if need be.” Her eyes blink open, glittering in the moonlight as she flexes her outstretched fingers. “But you won’t. Not yet. Your curiosity will only continue to get the better of you.”
“Dangerous to speak to your lord so certainly.”
“Dangerous to indulge a curiosity that could lead to the damnation of your own soul, no?” Her head tilts as the corner of her mouth lifts.
Truthfully, he hasn’t thought about it in those terms. Or hasn’t wanted to, at least. His pursuit of knowledge about the powers she possesses is purely an academic interest. Just a mission to root out the Devil’s evil here on earth. There’s nothing that he could seek to profit from gaining such knowledge. Not even in regards to rendering men incapacitated or locks incapable of locking.
… Right?
He steels his resolve, burying all sense of intrigue as he looks back at her. “I cannot let you leave here. You will be brought to trial before the clergy for fair judgment, I assure you.”
She takes a slow step backwards. “Now you be assured that if I wish to return home, you will not follow me.”
“Oh?” He flashes a cheeky grin and dares a step forward. “And will you climb another tree to wait me out?”
She takes another retreating step, saying nothing but keeping her watchful eyes trained on him. His frustration grows as his patience wanes. Perhaps he has indulged her too long, and he reaches for the knife at his belt as the muscles of his jaw tighten.
The moonlight catches on her lips as they curl to an eerie grin. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”
He grips his blade tighter as he lunges forward. “You will stop, witch!”
Her right hand rises, fingers extended as two blinding beams of lightning pierce the night. The brilliant white-purple flashes blind him as they extend from her fingers up to a large overhead tree branch, shearing it from the trunk to fall with a bone-shaking thud just in front of him. His mind stalls, confounded and stunned as he freezes in place.
A witch indeed, if she can summon lightning at will.
His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still too astounded to take any immediate action. Smoke drifts from the charred end of the branch as his eyes adjust back to the darkness. He can just see where she has retreated further into the shadowy trees, her gaze still sharply focused on him.
“Consider that a warning, Your Grace.” Her voice floats around him in the clearing. “The next branch won’t miss.”
#charles brandon#duke of suffolk#the tudors#henry cavill#charles brandon x ofc#henry cavill x ofc#the tudors fanfic
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Iris
Chapter 3.
The Oak Tree
Lif/ Oc Alfonse/Oc
We take a look at how the war is going outside the fortress walls. Hel comes.
Gustav stood next to his cousin Alfonse, looking at the endless ranks of the undead. They had been fighting the dead for days and had had no glimpse of Hel as of yet. They had hoped their families had escaped in time, but they had received an Owl messenger from the men they had left to protect the city, letting them know the castle was besieged. Alfonse had come up with a rescue attempt but the King refused. He had ordered them to keep their post holding off the dead from marching South to the bigger cities. Strategy wise this was the better decision if it wasn’t for his actual heirs being besieged.
Then on the fifth day when Alfonse had thought of the unthinkable and was planing to desert the Royal Army with a group of other soldiers to rescue the besieged; a group from Embla had come in peace. It was a Baron, Lord of the Southern lands of Embla. His daughter had been the one the dead had kidnapped.
The Lord had asked to join them in battles and his personal army to help out. His hopes of finding his daughter alive were nonexistent but he wanted to end Hel for the sake of all the people Hel had killed at the kidnapping, including his wife. He was risking banishment and certain death by allying with Askr, but it did not matter to him anymore. His youngest daughter was safe with the only living relative he had. She would understand when she grew up.
Alfonse left the meeting with new hopes. The King had more allies to help and so he could leave without regrets. He could face the shame and the punishment when he came back. He called his retainers and told them to inform the other to be ready to leave.
He was preparing his horse when Gustav came to talk to him.
-Cousin. Wait.
-No Gustav I have waited long enough. I understand the strategic value of holding the horde from the rest of the Kingdom. Don’t you think I do not know the King? He knows you are young and strong. I have heard him talking to you. He thinks you can marry again and have more children Gustav. Maybe to you that is the right path, but MY family is not spendable. - It had sicken Alfonse to have overheard the King talking to Gustav of forgetting his family. Alfonse knew the King did not even like Henriette and had not liked the match to begin with, so this was even of help to him. He would finally get rid of the influence Henriette had over Gustav.
-Neither is mine. I did not come to stop you. I will go with you…but Alfonse…I had to leave him a letter to explain that …- Gustav started but was cut short
-Your Highness! The king wants to speak to you and to you as well General Andreas.- Said a solder. Alfonse looked at Gustav. His eyes closed in obvious annoyance and he sighted in defeat.
-You told him.
-I left him a message with an attendant. He was supposed to wait until we left.
-(sigh) Gustav…
They entered the tent where the King was waiting for them alongside Earl Andreas. The king did not waste his time in chitchat.
-So your wife went behind your back and summoned the legendary hero and you two had the gal to keep this from me?
-Father. I did not see a reason.
-You did not see a reason? She summoned the hero during peaceful times. Did you not stop to thing what it meant? Let me tell you in case you did not think about this. It meant war was coming, but not on our time. It meant the King is among us now! How old is your son Gustav?
-Ten years old Your Majesty.
-You called her at least six years early and managed to have the seal to the Realm of the Dead weaken before time. Since you tried to hide your mistake instead of working to salvage the situation now we are left weakened and without a hero army and with the Hero in danger no less. I suppose she does not even know who she is supposed to be to us?
-No Sir.
- Did you two know?- Asked the King turning to Lord Andreas and Alfonse.
-They did not know until the day before the attack father.
-I was not talking to you Gustav. - He said to Gustav, then he turned to Alfonse,-I knew you would not have married the hero if you had know Alfonse. It is not your fault, I just needed to hear it from your lips son. I see now why Hel is wasting so much effort and power on a siege to a fortress holding only a couple of people. She is after the Summoner and your son.
-Alfonse. His name is Alfonse.- Said Gustav through his teeth barely containing his anger.
-Yes. Who would have thought the reincarnation of the first King Lif would be my grandson.-The King said smiling now. Alfonse wanted to throw up. It was sickening to hear how he had not given any thought to his family just a mere hour ago and now…- This is such an honor Gustav, and you have not even been a good father to him, have you? Wasting your time with that wife of yours gallivanting around the Kingdom doing “research”.- Although Gustav knew this was true to an extent, his father’s cutting words hurt more for their truth.
- How much older than Alfonse is she? Some then years?- No one answered him. Lord Andreas was livid mirroring his son Alfonse. Gustav was red in the face and could not trust himself to talk.- Ten years are nothing. In fact she will be ready sooner to give us an heir. - Alfonse looked at his father who looked about to speak. He motioned for him to be quiet. He was not about to lose his family, but this was not the place to fight. Not when the king had the people and power to save them.-We march as soon as we are all ready. I already gave the order. You are dismissed.
The three men walked out furious. It was just as Alfonse suspected.
-This is the reason we kept quiet about this...but at least the news had the right effect. My apologies cousin. Only something this important to the kingdom would have moved my father.
-Well it worked… and now I will have to worry about having to lose my wife to your ten ear old son.
-We will work on that after we rescue them.- Said Lord Andreas because Alfonse was too angry to speak further and Gustav looked about to be sick.
Alfonse was angry, but it was anger towards the King who looked like nothing except his obsession with the kingdom and King Lif was important. Gustav had done nothing but work restlessly for the benefit of the Kingdom even at the expense of his own family and yet the King had never given him a word of praise. To the King, Gustav was doing the bare minimum of work; and it was all a reflection of his dislike for Henriette, not because she was the daughter of a minor Lord, but because she was a scholar. A woman that thought for herself with a gifted mind. Indeed he was not angry at Gustav and mush less at Henriette who was a kindhearted and intelligent woman. He was grateful to them for bringing his wife to him. Without them he would had met her later in life when he would be married to another and she would be… and he knew he would have fallen in love with her nonetheless.
==No. I will not think about that…it is done and I have a family…a wonderful family I will fight to keep, no matter what or who is in my way. Besides…it is a war. The King may yet suffer an accidental death…==
The Royal Army was finally outside the walls of the fortress. It had taken them days to get there with all the hindrances they had to face beforehand. When they got there and the fortress was in their view the Southern Gate was already down and a portion of the wall was breached. That they had lasted this long, was a miracle in itself. Alfonse was sure Henriette had given the sacred weapon to Bel. Even if she did not tell her the truth, Bel could use the weapon to defend the fortress and Henriette was a great and powerful mage.
The King rode into battle with the passion of young man. He wanted to reach the fortress as soon as possible after he saw it had been overrun.
What they failed to see was that Hel herself was in the place and was systematically killing each human in her path. It was as if she was searching for someone and was not in a hurry.
Before going out full force against her, the King took a moment to gather around with the some priests and mages. Later he talked to the commanders to assign their points of attack. Neither Alfonse nor Gustav learned what the King had talked about with the group of priests and mages. Still Gustav knew something and he told Alfonse as they prepared to ride again.
-There is a ritual that can seal her again. Henriette found it. It was in King Lif’s study. The problem is that it can only be done once every one hundred years.
-Can it be broken again by the Hel Cult?
-No this soon. It would take them at least five hundred years to weaken it enough. I do not remember all the details. I gave the book to the priests when we learned the door was opened.
-Is there no other way to open it?
-Only by the one who seals it.
-Good. At last we can see the light. If we survive this, I will give Henriette that book from the world of Mystery she wants so much.- Said Alfonse smiling for the first time in days.
It was early afternoon when they broke the ranks of the undead to get to the fortress. Hel, who was not paying attention to them turned then as if to welcome them. She left the soldiers who had been captured from inside the castle to redirect her attack towards them.
She hovered as if on a thick fog and all around her, skulls and skeletons reached out to tear and scratch at the living. In her wake she left a foul miasma of death and air as cold as the graves. Her laughter chilled their bones to a point where Alfonse could see some of the soldiers falter and some right out escape running. There was nowhere to go and they would not make it far. Alfonse knew they were surrounded. Still they kept their futile march. The dead could not really die again could they? They never stayed “dead” long. It was a never ending battle and every soldier who died would join their ranks.
Still the King marched on and Alfonse fueled by hatred and rage followed.
In a normal battle Alfonse would be the one giving the orders. He was always the highest ranking officer and Chief strategist, so it was a setback for him to wait for the King to order them around and a hassle to make suggestions to the man during the battles. Especially after the hatred he had come to feel for the man. Alfonse was very frustrated by the King’s commands. It was as if he was aiming to win no matter the cost of human life and it felt to Alfonse like a suicide mission. At this realization Alfonse had an idea.
- Gustav!! Do you know if that ritual requires a sacrifice?
-What?
-A sacrifice Gustav! Does it require one?
- I do not know cousin!….- Gustav took a moment to strike at a couple of the dead.- What is on your mind?
-The course of actions the King takes are suicidal. They lack direction and strategy! He listens to no one!
-I see what you mean! You do not think he wants to…
-Most likely!
- A death for Glory and Kingdom….so like my father!- Said Gustav and growled in annoyance. The truth is that Gustav thought his father wanted to look like a hero himself.
They both hurried on to catch on with the King who seemed to be making it straight to Hel. It took them a while to get to where he was fighting a group undead.
The grounds of the Summer Palace was vast and the compound itself consisted of various buildings but the castle itself with its two towers had numerous gardens, forest areas on the sides and the main gate at the south side. This gate had a long road surrounded by tall trees that led to the entrance.
Gustav could see the damage done to his favorite home by the horde and Hel. There were unrounded trees, and others that looked like they had been blasted by magic. Some of the trees were on fire. There were holes on the grass and cobbled paths as if from explosions and numerous bodies; some unmoving and some still alive littered the ground.
To the sides he could see tents where he supposed the army soldiers had been staying. Everything was in pieces or on fire. On his right side where the destruction seemed greater; all the trees by the path had been fallen and he was able to see part of the ground floor. There were holes on the walls of the building and if he could remember correctly; that was around the place the music room was located. He hoped to Askr no one was in there at the time.
Alfonse got his attention back. A distraction like this could cost him his life at this moment. He looked at his cousin and he pointed at a place to wards the front where the King had halted followed by Alfonse’s father.
They heard the laughter of a woman; terrifyingly loud and cruel. A man had come running and was talking to the King and Earl Andreas. The King turned around as if looking for someone. He spotted Gustav and Alfonse and suddenly he charged again in the direction of Hel.
Alfonse cursed and followed after Gustav who ran to catch up to his father. They had to do something. Alfonse was too angry to think of what to do and to be honest with himself he did not mind one bit if the King offered himself on a silver platter to Hel as a sacrifice. The only setback was he would be view as a martyr and a hero. As much as this annoyed him, he was fine with it as long as his family was saved.
They finally got to the entrance where Hel was waiting for them. Alfonse had heard the tales about Hel. He had read half her face was bones, but he never expected her to be more bone than flesh and much less for her to be made of that crystalline substance. Or for the soft lilac light radiating from her. If it had been someone else, it would perhaps look beautiful, but her bones being visible,her cruel laugh, the tattered dress, the cruel scythe and the smell of death itself made the whole picture revolting.
Lord Andreas stopped and looked around. Alfonse heard him suggest a curse of action on how to attack but it fell on deaf ears as the King made to attack directly. Gustav followed and Alfonse came after him.
-You will not end my line witch!- Cried the King.
- I do not come for you fool! The King is mine to kill and so will be his hero…The Kingdom will fall after.
So it was true. Hel came for Gustav’s son and Bel. Did the woman even know the boy was ten years old? Did she even care? Those were the thoughts passing through Alfonse’s mind.
Hel attacked them all swiftly and efficiently. Alfonse was aware of the soldiers around him fighting the dead but not daring to get too close to Hel. He could see why. Every soldier that had dared help them had fallen at her feet. Every mage that dared to get close, got surrounded by a large number of undead until they were driven back.
After a while of dodging and attacking, Alfonse realized Hel was more interested in Gustav and himself. He wondered if she even knew who the reincarnation of the King was. Could she feel it?
Alfonse saw it as if it had been on slow motion. The King charged and Gustav followed. They moved fast and Alfonse could see Gustav was trying to synchronize the attack. Suddenly the King halted before striking and backed away. Gustav not aware of his father’s retreat kept going and by the time he noticed, it was too late to back down. Gustav made to block the attack and the force of the inhuman attack sent him flying backwards. Alfonse understood then what was happening. The King was not offering himself as a sacrifice. He was offering Gustav.
Alfonse growled in anger. He understood now. In the span of seconds he could see the King’s plan. The king did not need Gustav. He had Alfonse and with Gustav out of the way he could raise Alfonse himself and manipulate him into doing what he wanted. He could also easily dispose of Henriette as well.
Alfonse was furious and since he was the one closer to Gustav he went to his aid. Hel was poised to strike just as Gustav was getting up. The dark blade sung as it swung down to cut the Crown Prince down. Years of being Gustav’s back up and almost his bodyguard made it easy to not think of himself. Alfonse jumped into the fray shoving Gustav out of the way and shielding them both with his sword and shield.
The shield held the first couple of trikes. Alfonse could hear and feel Hel’s frustration on her grunts and force in her trikes. Gustav rose and readied his axe to attack. In a moment Hel changed her stance and gave a backwards strike with enough strength to momentarily get Alfonse to stumble. Alfonse was still closer to her and when she moved again he had no time to recover. Her quicker inhuman reflexes gave her an edge on the two humans.
She struck again and her scythe cut through the air too fast to dodge. Alfonse felt the force of the upward strike hit him on the chest. The specter hit him with the back of the scythe. There was suddenly a pressure on his chest that almost did not let him breathe. He stumbled some more and as he fell to the ground he saw Gustav bleeding from a deep cut across his face. Gustav was trying to clean the blood from his eyes but Hel was ignoring him and everyone else. Alfonse tried standing up but he could only fall back down until his back hit a solid object. He looked down at the damage on his body. How could a blow to the chest leave him so weak? Why did he feel like a dozen knives were staving him every time he took a breath?
=Oh…I see…==
There was a gash that ran from the top of his abdomen to his collarbone and it looked deep. A steady flow of blood could bee seen leaving his body in a trail that glistened with the now dying sun. He looked up to see why everything was so quiet and found Hel looking at him and then at her hands. Gustav was on the floor. He had not seen him been hit, but he was moving toward him so he knew he was well enough to move. Alfonse’s father attacked Hel, but he was blown away by a single blow from the dull part of her scythe. She did not even bother to turn towards him. Suddenly he heard the voice of the king. It sounded so distant to Alfonse now.
-YOU FOOLISH HUMAN! YOUR DEATH DOES NOT SEAL ME, BUT IT WILL BRING ME PLEASURE!- Hel answered and Alfonse turned her gaze to see her move too fast for him to follow and throw her scythe at the King and behead him. She turned to him and Gustav and with a voice so chilling she added.- You come with me.
Alfonse looked up. He could barely feel his body now. The pain was gone and he wondered where he was. He saw hovering on top of him the branches of a big oak tree and remember.
He closed his eyes and he could see the day as clear as if he was there. The oldest Oak tree on the front garden. It had been a sunny day and he had come from the library where Gustav was showing him some books he knew Alfonse would like and had found Oly at the bottom of the tree looking worriedly at the nearest branch. Alfonse was climbing carefully upwards while a crying Sharena held on for dear life to one of the middle branches.
-Papi!!! Please come! Sharena can’t come down and Alfonse is trying to save her.- Said Olive running up at him.
- Where is your mother?- Asked Alfonse Taking her in his arms.
-She went to get a ladder . She is too short, but you can rescue them right Daddy!?- Laughed Oly.
-Of course my little Olive.- He said calling her the name she did not like and planting a kiss on her cheek.
-Daddy!- Oly protested and Alfonse gave a rumble of a laugh.
- Don’t worry Sharena. Your brother and I will save you. Alfonse please come down and take care of Oly.
-Yes Sir. -Said little Alfonse politely and jumped down the lower branch to stand by Oly who did not hesitate to take his hand in hers.
Alfonse climbed up and got Sharena who had stopped crying. He turned to see Bel in the distance walking fast with a ladder. He could have climbed down or even jump down but he decided to let her rescue them both, since she had taken such pains to get that ladder from the back garden shed.
She looked sweaty from the strain of carrying such a heavy ladder by herself while walking that fast. Her hair was a little disheveled too, but to Alfonse she looked the picture of beauty with that worried face and reddened cheeks. She was wearing his favorite dress and he was sure she was regretting it by now.
How annoyed she had been with his teasing her after he had come down and reminded her there were servants for that kind of work.
It had been such a beautiful day near this tree.
==Who would have thought I would die here…==
He thought. He knew he was dying. There was no mistake. He open his eyes when he felt himself being lifted and carried away and saw Gustav trying to reach out to him with one arm with the tree behind him. He was still on the floor, and some undead soldiers where holding him down. The oak’s beautiful green leaves painted by the red dawn was the last he ever saw as blackness took his sight, but in his mind; the memory of his beloved and his daughter dressed on those matching dresses he loved so much was the one that accompanied him to his death.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Gustav could not believe what had happened. His own father had try to sacrifice him for the ritual. If it had not been for his cousin he would be dead by now. He was trying to get back his sight. Hel had hit him across the face and blood had sprayed all over his face and into his eyes.
He opened his eyes expecting to see his cousin and uncle fighting Hel, but found her standing still, watching the palms of her hands intently. Her face was a strange mix of rage and bewilderment. His cousin was nowhere near her. He looked back and saw him sitting upright with his back resting on the thick trunk of the ancient oak tree. A quick look told him Hel had also reached Alfonse, but his wound was much worse and probably lethal. His face was the picture of agony and the once neatly cut grass around him was painted scarlet with his blood.
Enraged Gustav took his axe and charged at Hel now that she was distracted. He made no sound, but still she retaliated with a force far beyond his own. She almost lazily shoved him aside as if he was a mere annoying fly. Unfortunately she struck him on the side and he could hear and feel bones breaking.
He fell on his right arm almost on his own upturned axe that had flown from his hand with the force of the blow. He heard his uncle attack and saw through a haze of pain how he also had been thrown like rag doll to the side.
Gustav turned to Alfonse when he was trying to get up. There was something like relief on those eyes when he saw Gustav moving towards him. Even through the agony Gustav knew he was experiencing he was relieved to see him alive.
- Your time has ended Hel! Leave this land! I command you as the King!- He heard his father cry.
He did not know if blood had gotten on his eyes again, but at that moment everything had a red tint to it. His ears were ringing and he could hear his own heart and blood on his head as if it wanted to make it explode from the inside.
-YOU FOOLISH HUMAN! YOUR DEATH DOES NOT SEAL ME, BUT IT WILL BRING ME PLEASURE!- She answered him.
Gustav saw when Hel turned to his father and faster than he had ever seen any living being move, she beheaded him throwing her scythe at him and coming back to stand in front of his cousin once again. He heard when she ordered her minions to take his cousin with them.
His cousin was still alive and his face had a faraway look on them as if he was seeing something beautiful. Gustav cried then, from frustration and anger. If he lived through this, he would never forgive his father and much less himself. Gustav took his cousin’s hand in his, but it felt limp and lifeless ,as if his cousin could not feel him anymore.
He felt and then saw his cousin being lifter away. He held on to his arm. He was asking himself why Hel wanted to take him away. The man was dying any way. Why take his body too? But he would not let them take him. He tried standing up and holding on to his arm and fighting the dead off but there were so many of them; he was instantly thrown back. The dead were instantly on him. They pressed down so hard he could hear the crack of his ribs and screamed in pain. He looked up to see through the haze of pain, Alfonse being carried away shield and all.
-Alfonse!!! Alfonse!!!- Screamed Gustav as he watched his cousin being taken away. Alfonse was looking at the tree and then at Gustav. Alfonse looked almost calm. As Alfonse looked back up at the tree branches above, Gustav saw the life being drained from his eyes. His cousin that he loved so much and had hurt so much was dying before his eyes and he could do nothing to save him.
He could not take it anymore he tried fighting his captors off once more, but all of a sudden all of them started to disappear as if they had not been there at all. The only thing left of his cousin was his sword stained with blood on the ground by the tree where he had fallen.
-Alfonse!!- Gustav turned to Earl Andreas. He was on his knees with his hands covering his face. He had been held down by the dead while trying to save his son as well.
-Uncle…I…- Gustav did not know what to do. He did not know if his uncle would even want to see him after what had happened.
==It is all my fault! Everything! Alfonse!==
Gustav knelt down next to his uncle. He was expecting to be repelled by his uncle and he would understand it of course, but he wanted to try. He needed to tell him so many things he felt, but could not find words to express them. He felt like he was about to burst. He had never felt such despair, shame and gilt. He laid a hand on his uncle’s shoulder for a moment.
Gustav turned around giving his uncle space and while his face searched the field he could see his father’s corpse slumped over meters away. He balled his fists unconsciously as he was filled with rage and shame. His father had shamed them both and in that moment he wished he was the one who had died.
Gustav was not aware of the tears falling from his eyes, nor the knitted brows and anger in his face while he watched the broken body that belonged to his father, but he felt the hand touching his arm. He turned to his uncle and saw the man’s despair mirroring his own. Gustav embraced him and winced when his uncle touched his wounds. Around them the men were cheering and cries of joy, unaware of the pain and loss sustained by the two commanders. The ones closer were silently crying. The men all loved Alfonse.
- Gustav! You are hurt. - Said his uncle while he inspected his blood covered hand. Gustav looked down at his side and arm. He had a lot of minor wounds. They were deep but not on any vital part. Those where done at the end when he was being held down, but the one on his side was serious. His whole side was turning dark and blood flowed from it.
Now that the adrenaline was fading and his muscles were cooling down he was starting to feel the pain and he found himself dizzy and it was difficult to breath. He tightened his grip on his cousin’s sword. Its weight grounding him.
Gustav swayed a little and his vision blurred until blackness took him and he knew no more.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lord Andreas walked to the library where he knew the survivors were. He had been told by survivors who had been rescued from the kitchen’s cellars, that the Royal family had gone inside the library to hide. He had had his time to break down while Gustav was being taken care of. Adrien had told the men not to open the library until Gustav was seen to; then he went inside one of the guestrooms and had broken down. He did not wish to be seen this way and he knew he needed to tell his daughter Bel and his dear Oly. He needed to be strong for them. After that he came out and ordered the men to tell the survivors inside the library that they could come out. By the time he walked to the library doors, they were already coming out from the hidden bunker basements. He was still not ready to see his daughter Bel and granddaughter Oly. He did not know how to tell them without breaking down himself again.
He tried to walk strait, but his own wounds were painful even if they were not as unforgiving as Gustav’s. He had bruised ribs and the blow to the head, besides various slashes and superficial cuts. He would have carried his son’s sword by his waist but Gustav had not parted with it even when he fainted. He had told the men not to tell anyone the news about the king passing or his son, so not one was talking about it.
-Lord Andreas Sir!- A voice shouted from behind him. He turned around to face the soldier.
-What is it?
-Prince Gustav. He is awake. He asks to let him talk to Lady Andreas himself…about…- The man faltered. It was no secret Alfonse’s men were found of him. He was a good man and a good leader who cared for his men. Lord Andreas nodded and bid him to walk by his side to wait for his family to come out.
Adrien found Henriette by the secret stairs. She was leading the people out of the bunker and giving the soldiers and healers orders. Adrien got close to her.
-Are my daughter and granddaughter well? And your children?- He asked Henriette.
-Yes of course. They are waiting to make sure no one stays behind.
-We saw the holes on the walls.
-Ah…We did have problems with that. The kids were there when they blew up the wall. Worry not. They children suffered some blows and scrapes, but they are fine now.- She added when she saw Adrien worry.- All thanks to our dear Bel. She had a clearer head than I and faster thinking. How are the others?
Adrien knew she was asking more for Gustav and he did not want to give much away about his son yet.
-The King was killed by Hel and Gustav was badly injured.- He knew she tried hard to please her father in law and he was ever a cold man to her, but he also knew her sorrow was legitimate when she heard of his passing. After all she did not know what the King had done at the end. At the mention of Gustav he could see worry in her face so he reassure her as much as he could.- He is being taken care of. He had lost consciousness after the battle.
-I see. Is Alfonse safe? How did you manage to beat Hel?
Adrien faltered a little. He cleared his throat and then answered.- Gustav gave the ritual you found to the priests. It worked.- Henriette gasped.
-That ritual…it…Oh …the king?..- Adrien avoided her eyes and shock his head in dissent.
-Al…Alfonse?- She asked with a broken voice.
-Do not let them know. Gustav wants to talk to Bel first.- Henriette felt like she could not breath.
-I…Yes… of course. I am…My condolences Adrien.- Henriette felt like she would break down. It was true that they all did not have the odds on their favor. Henriette did not even think she was going to make it herself, but hearing this was heartbreaking. They had bought their lives with Alfonse’s death. He was perhaps the one who should have made it through. He was the innocent soul who probably sacrificed himself to save someone else. She did not know how it happened, but she knew him well. Alfonse was selfless and protective. She knew that ritual required a true sacrifice. For someone to sacrifice himself to save someone else. Now she felt filthy too, after what she had been thinking of. Who was her to take away his family in order for her son to be happy? And now he was gone and his wife would be devastated and his child fatherless.
Henriette took a deep breath and reigned in her feelings the way she had learned to do from dealing with Gustav’s father. She could not break down now. There were many things to do and Bel could not yet know. She kept giving directions to the people coming out of the basement. When everyone was out Bel came out with the kids, Aleen, and Henriette’s chamber maid Deana. Behind them two soldiers Henriette recognize as the ones who were constantly talking to Bel.
-We are the last ones out Henriette.- Bel said to the blond woman, then looking at Adrien, Bel smiled happily.- My Lord!You are OK!- Bel went to hug her father in law but seeing he was holding his side , she stopped.- You are hurt!
-We all were hurt. May I talk to you?- Said Adrien. Bel saw him eyeing Oly and the kids. Bel was nervous now.
-Sure. Umm…Aleen, Feraht can you stay with the kids?-She asks and the two of them nodded.
- I will see to it that they are taken care of. -Says Henriette. She spies Alfonse opening his mouth as if to speak, but closes it. She knew of his inquisitive nature and knew he wanted to know about his father and uncle.
-Henriette. You should come as well. I will take care of the people and whatever needs to be done.
The kids were taken to Henriette’s chamber by Deana and the others. Alfonse looking back with knitted brows. When they disappeared up the stairs Adrien turned to Bel.
-Gustav is in bad shape. His injuries are extensive and he had internal bleeding.- Henriette did cry now. Bel took her hand in hers. She felt horrible seeing the ever serene Henriette this emotional.- He wants to talk to you daughter.
Bel looked up at Adrien questioningly. Why would he want to talk to her?- Of course. Where is Alfonse father?- She had taken to calling him father when Oly had turned two. It had been by mistake that she had called him father but the stern Lord had asked to be just that to her. He loved her like a daughter and so they begin to call each other daughter and father in the old way of his people.
-Come. It is imperative that you talk to Gustav first.- Bel nodded and guided Henriette to where Adrien was leading them. They were going to one of the first floor guestrooms. If Adrien was this worried about Gustav, then it must mean he really was in bad shape.
==Alfonse must be with Gustav or leading the men…Yes. That must be it.== Bel thought.
They entered the room and found Gustav on the bed. His armor and under armor had been taken off for his wounds to be treated. He was covered with a blanket to keep him warm and not succumb to shock. It was turning out to be a cold night.
At the sound of their steps entering the room Gustav opened his eyes and turned to watch them in silence. Bel stayed back to let Henriette approach her husband. Henriette sat on the bed near him and caressed his face while tears flowed from her eyes. She did not utter a single word and neither did he, but Bel could see so much being told by the way they watched each other. Even when Gustav’s eyes were almost swollen shut.
Bel turned away. She wanted to get out of the room and not watch them in such an intimate moment. She also started thinking of Alfonse. She really wanted to see him and be sure he was alright. That man always went out of his way working despite his wounds.
The moment did not last long. Bel heard Gustav’s usually deep voice call at her in what sounded like his throat had been scratched sore. It sounded gruff, gravely and muffled from under the bandages covering his entire face.From what little they could see of his skin it was all purple and swollen. She neared the bed and Henriette made to leave, but Gustav asked her to stay. She went to stand by Adrien and took a very deep breath that Bel could hear from the bed. Bel sat and waited for Gustav to talk.
The man on the bed had taken to look at the ceiling as if he was looking for the right words. Which was weird to Bel because Gustav did not say much but always knew what to say. It was beginning to make Bel worry. Again she was reminded of the request Henriette had made her swear. To watch her children if she died. Would this be it? Was Gustav so bad he wanted her to help Henriette care for the children?
- I want to thank you. The men told me how you helped Henriette fight off the dead and rescued my children.
- You are welcome, but you know I love your kids.
-I know you do and I know my kids love you back. I have had no time to get to know you or your daughter the way I should and I am afraid, that what you know of me..you probably find…odious.- Bel tried to say something but Gustav raised his hand to stop her.- I know my own weaknesses and faults… Bel…I do not know if I may live…but if I do…I am afraid my life has been bought with a very high price and I do not know how to…I will repay it…I am afraid there is nothing I can do to repay my debt.
-Wha…
-Hel…To beat Hel we needed to perform a ritual…I did not read it all and gave it to my father to perform. During our battle Alfonse pointed out that my father was not following any suggestions or battle plan…He…had his own idea and did not inform us about it. It was Alfonse who say it first, as intelligent as he is…emm…He said it looked like my father was on a suicide mission and I agreed. Especially after he was informed by one of the men that…argg…-Gustav gave a grunt of pain. The potion for pain’s effect was fading already.-that you were alive. The ritual..needs a sacrifice for it to be effective. My father was a good king Bel…good to the people that is…but his faith and devotion blinded him to everything else. To him I was a failed …a failed attempt for an heir.
-Gustav…- Henriette pleaded silently.
-How? I have only seen hard work and devotion to your people on your part!
-It was all my fault…I am sorry…- Henriette sobbed.
-It does not matter now…my father is dead…
-So he sacrificed himself?
-I am afraid that was not the case. My father wanted to sacrifice me…that is our conclusion to the matter. He strung me on until I was at Hel’s reach. Alfonse saw this…I did not. I was so focused on trying to help my father attack Hel I did not see him retreat from the attack.
-He tricked you…
-Yes. I was supposed to be the sacrifice.
==Supposed…==
-Wait…where is Alfonse?- Bel asked looking back at Adrien. The Lord was looking down at his feet.- Gustav?
-He saved me at the last minute. Hel only hit me on the face. He…He sacrificed himself to save me…that sealed Hel…it was Alfonse…not me and much less my father… He…
-No…no…I am sure he is fine…he…can’t be dead…he promised me…he…he promised Gustav…I…I need to see him…where is he? I need to…- She rose from the bed and walked over to Adrien.- Father!? Tel me he is alive…please…where is he?
- He is dead daughter…Hel killed him…and I could do nothing but watch…We tried to..
-No…Where is he … It…its not fair! Why?…why him? …- Bel was crying now and she was trying hard to compose herself but she was trembling all over and did not know what to do.-Can…can I see him?
-I am afraid…he was taken.
-What? What do you mean?…
-Hel took him when she was sealed.
-But then how do you know he was dead? He may still be alive?
-No. She killed my father and she was still standing by Alfonse…I saw my cousin die…as soon as he was gone…they all disappeared.
-And she took him? Why didn’t you all do something?
-We all tried daughter…we were held down by the dead…- Adrien said with tears rolling down his face.- Gustav’s injuries came from trying to save him…and I…I am afraid I was too slow as well…
- I am sorry…I …I know you tried father…
-The only thing they left behind was his sword…Here…- Said Gustav.- It is yours now.
Bel looked at the sword. She knew the meaning of passing down a weapon or what it meant to warriors. She knew what it meant to her husband and so she took it. The hilt was stained with blood and she wondered if it was his own blood. The sword was missing the sheath, so it was wrapped with white silken fabric with what she could see was the Askran crest.
-Why would she take him? So his soul would not go to Valhalla?
-All souls go to Hel…I do not understand why she took him if his soul would go to Hel too. She said nothing.
- How am I going to tell Oly?…She can’t even sleep right when he is not home…
Gustav watched Bel with tears falling from his eyes. No one could see it as swollen as his eyes were, but he was crying silently. What he saw was the eerie calm of a person bottling up their emotions…he knew what would happen once she was alone. He knew it by force of practice. He did that all the time. He did that when his mother died and his father chastised him for showing emotion. He did that when his father told him how much he detested his personality and how weak and emotional he thought Gustav was. He did that when his father told him how much he hated his marriage to Henriette but could do nothing because the people thought their romance had been romantic. He did that all the time his father had said that he was not enough and why was he not more like Adrien or Alfonse. Yet he knew he could not fathom her pain…if he ever lost Henriette, he was sure he would die right after.
-I…I need..I need time…alone…-Bel took a deep breath and walked out of the room. Henriette made to follow but Adrien held her back.
-Stay with Gustav. I will be close to her.- Adrien said and followed after Bel.
-Should we tell her…
-Does she need to know?-
-It was a mistake to not tell her from the beginning Gustav. There may be others…you know the legends.
-I hate to agree with my father dear, but it is true. I am afraid the time will come in the future. It will be Alfonse who will be tested.
-All the more reason to prepare now.
-You are right…but we wait a while…
-Also…I do not think we should tell her about…our Alfonse.- Said Henriette. She was feeling so bad about making plans to marry her off, she almost felt like it was her fault Alfonse was dead. She wanted her son to be happy but not at this price.
-I agree…I…-Gustav was cut short by the muffled sound of the most hearth wrenching wail he had ever heard, follow by the sound of unconsolable crying. And there it was. What Gustav had seen coming.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Through the years Alfonse had gotten better at reading people’s body language and facial expressions. It made it easier for him to know what they were thinking and so he would not get in trouble with his professors and caretakers. He knew there was something the adults were not telling them. He suspected his father was hurt by his mother’s worried and sad face. He also thought it was strange that his father wanted to talk to Bel. Bel looked worried as well, so he waited until Sharena and Oly were distracted with cleaning themselves to get out of the room and investigate.
He walked down the corridor and then down the stairs towards ballroom. On the way he heard a scream of anguish unlike anything he had ever heard. He stood still for a second unable to move. During those few moments a dozen different ideas crossed his mind. At first he thought Hel was back, but then he thought she would be laughing instead while she attacked the living; then he remembered the specter Bel used to tell them about that was like a banshee.
==Bel…that is aunt Bel!==
Alfonse ran to the direction he had heard the yell. He stopped short before going around a corner when he saw Adrien outside a room. He looked like he was crying. Alfonse felt something cold was running down his back and then upwards and his stomach felt funny. The way it felt when his teachers were angry at him or he knew he had displeased his father.
Lord Andreas whipped his face and walked away from the room down the corridor and around the corner where he knew the entrance lay. He walked silently towards the door his great uncle had been standing around and heard loud sobbing.
Was his father dead? Was that why he had called Bel and his mother? Was he saying his last farewell? Alfonse opened the door slowly and silently. He expected to see his father laying on the bed dead and was preparing for it; but he found the bed empty. He entered the room and followed the sobbing. Sitting on the floor, hugging a pillow was Bel. Her face was buried on said pillow to muffle her sobs and loud crying.
Alfonse knew she had not heard him coming in, so he could leave and she would never know he had been in there; but he found that he could not leave. He was worried about his father, but it made no sense to him that she would cry this much for him.
Then a thought crossed his mind. Uncle Alfonse would have been the first to reach the bunker and get them out of it and hug Oly and Bel. He was sure that if his uncle Alfonse was safe he would have been already here with Bel, instead of her being here alone.There was only one option and he did not like it one bit.
He took a deep breath and moved closer, there by her side was a sword. He had seen that sword before. It was Dainsleif. His uncle Alfonse’s sword.
Bel stopped her crying and as if sensing his thought about the sword, she reached for it. She untied the binding and took the white fabric off. There were tears still falling from her eyes. She stood up and walked to the window, still not aware of Alfonse’s presence.
Alfonse was rooted to the spot, watching without making any noise as she raised the sword to the level of her throat.
==It would be so easy==
Something like dread pooled in the pit of Alfonse’s stomach and he gasped. The sound must have woken Bel out of the spell because she lowered the blade and turned around.
-Al…Al..Alfonse…How long have you been there?
-I…I heard you crying. I apologize if I am intruding. I did not mean to bother you.
-No…you are no bother…come sit with me a while. How is Oly?- Bel said whipping her face on the pillowcase she had taken off of the pillow.
-Oly and Sharena were cleaning themselves before having dinner when I left. Is …is uncle Alfonse…
-He…he is not with us anymore…and your father was hurt, but he is strong. I am sure he will survive. He is two rooms from this one down the hall.
-I want to stay with you.-He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to Bel.
- Thank you. I don’t know how I am going to tell Oly…
-I can help you if you wish.
- I am sure your company will be very appreciated…I appreciate it. Thank you.-Alfonse did not reply. He just nodded and looked like he relaxed his body. He had been sitting up very strait and stiff. Bel passed an arm around him to hug him. He offered no resistance and let himself be drawn along her side. Bel planted a kiss atop of his head when she heard him sob quietly and felt his smaller arms cling to her.
Bel was not surprised. Her husband had been closer to Alfonse than Gustav had been lately. He had trained him and had been his mentor. After they had gotten married this had not stopped. In fact Bel had talked to him about how lonely the kids were and Alfonse had taken to visiting together more often. That was when little Alfonse was learning to play the violin and was having his first sword fighting lessons. He was five years old and her husband would take time to teach him both lessons when he could.
- I will miss him…
-You were very dear to him and he felt so proud of being your teacher and uncle. He was proud of you; you know. He wanted a son like you..and so do I…I will miss him too…- She felt his grip tighten, and he sobbed again. She had never seen him so emotional. Even when he was younger he always took care not to show much emotions when he hurt himself. It was as if he had always been told to repress his feelings and never to complain. She leaned her head over his own and started to massage him with soothing motion, taking care not to hurt his back and shoulder. She wanted him to let go and cry if he wanted to. It all had been so much for him. Sharena and Oly were too young to understand what he was able to understand of the situations and with him always trying his best to shield them from all harm, it was harder for him. He was expected to be mature and strong when he was but 10 years old and caring for his sister.
-Oly…Oly will be sad…when are we going to tell her?
-How about we give her this night…so she can sleep right. Tomorrow after breakfast will be a …I suppose a good time.
- That sounds right…I will be there for her…I do not like to see her sad…It is like seeing Sharena sad.
-Ah…I fe…
-Bel? Are you…-Henriette’s voice came from the door. She had barged in suddenly and stopped when she saw Alfonse sitting by Bel. Bel gave her a nod and waved at her. She had felt Alfonse tense up when he heard his mother’s voice.
- I am fine thanks to Alfonse. I …Can you give us a moment please?
-Of course. If you want so see your father you can do it son. I am sure Bel can take you.
-I will.- Said Bel and Henriette left the room.
-I do not want them to see…
-We can stay here a while…are you tired of seeing books? We can go read for a bit… or we can go eat something…- She suggested while she whipped his face with his own handkerchief.
-I rather stay here…can I hold the sword?
-Sure.- Bel handed him the sword and he let go of her to take it.
-Can I…keep it tonight?- He asked eyeing her. For some reason he thought she would be safer if he held on to it. He did not like the thought that had crossed his mind earlier.
-I…sure…just…do not clean it please. Let me wrap it up again…I do not want you to hurt yourself.
They stayed a while there talking and after some time Bel took Alfonse to see his father. She had told him how he looked, so he would not be frightened. A healer was in the room and Bel notices Alfonse wanted to ask her about his father’s injuries, but was too polite to do it, so she asked for him.
After that they left to meet up with Oly and Sharena. They were worried about Alfonse. He explained he had gone to see Gustav and explained to Sharena that he was fine, but had some injuries that had to be healed.
Adrien came to see them when whey were having dinner. He was looking for Bel and when he saw her so calm and collected he calmed down. He was afraid to be asked questions by the inquisitive Oly so he excused himself and left to rest.
-When is Papi coming back?- Asked Oly. Alfonse looked at Bel who was ignoring her on purpose. She seemed to be thinking about what to say.
-Oh…I am sorry. I was distracted Oly. It’s just that…I was wondering just how deep the basement really is. I was wondering if your mother would let us explore it.- She said to Alfonse and Sharena.
They talked for a while and every time Oly looked like she was going to ask something either Bel or Alfonse changed the subject or distracted her with something. She fell asleep from exhaustion and Bel took her to sleep. They were all going to sleep in Henriette’s rooms. The bed was big enough for the four of them and Henriette would stay by Gustav.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
-Apparently I am not the only one who can not sleep. -Said Bel quietly, when he found Adrien and Henriette in the front garden. They both were standing by the big oak where some months ago Sharena had been stuck and Alfonse had gone up to save her. She walked over to them. Henriette was crying and suddenly she hugged Adrien. They held each other while they both cried.
Bel felt numb…she had slept for perhaps half an hour next to Oly and her dream was a black void…She woke to the memory of her family…of her dead…it had been just like that…an empty void for months…
- Was this where he was taken?- She asked softly. Tears fell quietly from her eyes. This too was familiar.
==” Are all of you sure ? Dead really? What if… Is there a hospital we can call? The local police…” ==
She had not believed until she saw proof…and this time she would not see the body and she will always speculate…always wait for him to come back from that trip he went to…wait for a letter from Alfonse like she waited for that call back home that never came…
-Bel…I thought you were asleep with the kids.- Said Henriette.
-I…my…I could not sleep. Have all the bodies been taken care of?
-Most of them. They are going to be buried or cremated in the following days. Come daughter. You need rest.
-OK…It was here right?
-Yes.
-OK…let’s go to sleep…I will tell Oly tomorrow after breakfast.
-Do you have to?- Asked Henriette.
-She will be waiting for him to come home otherwise…it is cruel…She has us both father. We will do.- She said watching a darkened spot of grass and dirt by the tree trunk. She turned around before more than tears came from her soul.
-You are right. I will be there with you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Oly slept with the sound of rain hitting the windows, Her dream was sweet and happy. She was playing with Alfonse and Sharena and the day was sunny and bright and there were flowers everywhere. She felt so happy, is not for the ugly laugh she heard coming from the forest near the garden they were playing at. They all looked up and dark clouds covered the sky. When it was dark enough to look like it was nighttime and thunder ripped the sky apart; a light came from the darkness of the forest. She hid her face in her hands. Oly hated thunder. She had always been afraid of it and she wanted to run, but she could not move. She heard a cry and when she looked up Sharena was gone and the sound of her scream came from the forest. Alfonse lay on the ground, not moving…
- Alfonse! Alfonse!Sharena!- Oly screamed and cried but she could not move her legs and the thunder and lightning kept their savage attack, but she preferred it to the laugh…that laugh that had taken Sharena.
Sharena’s creams for help turned into a male blood curling scream of pain.
-Child of his blood! I will come back for you!!!
-Aaaaahhh! -Oly could not hear herself crying with the sound of the man’s creaming.
The three kids woke up in various states of distress. Sharena was crying softly while she threw herself to be hugged by her brother, who looked scared stiff. Oly was crying loudly while Bel hugged them all at the same time.
Feraht who was in the room next to them came running fast to their aid. He was confused when he saw nothing in their vicinity but the crying children. He relaxed when he understood what the problem was. He turned to the windows and saw it was a while before dawn.
-Shhh…you are safe here. I’m here with you. You are safe. It was a dream…
-I will make some tea.- Said Deana
-Thank you Deana.
-Is there something I can help with?
-Thank you Feraht. I think I can handle it. You should go rest, more. You have not been sleeping right…but before you go…have you heard from Aleen? Is Erland…well?
-She has yet to come back…Mam…May I…go pay my respect?
-Yes…of course…Take as much as you want…tell Aleen the same.
-Mami!!! I want my Daddy!- Said Oly.
-I want to see my Mother!- Cried Sharena.
- Sharena. Mother is asleep right now. She is staying with Father. We…we should let her rest…
-She has not been sleeping right. Let us give her some more rest OK Sharena. They are all resting. Why don’t you tell me what you dreamed of? Maybe by telling me the dream will be less scary. Who wants to go first?- Bel looked at Alfonse waiting for him to start but he looked pale and scared and just lowered his eyes to the watch his hands holding his sister’s hands.-Oly?
-It was lightning… and thunder Mami…y el Coco Mami but it was a woman…and she laughed…and she took Sharena and..Alfonse was on the ground…
-I dreamed the same thing!- Said Sharena-…She glowed pink…and her hair was…I..don’t remember…but she laughed and the man was screaming! Cousin Bel she was hurting him! Alfonse was on the ground…like he was …dead…
-Who was she hurting?
-I..I don’t remember…but he screamed…-Said Sharena and she shrank on herself and Bel hugged her closer.
-Come here I won’t let anyone hurt you or take you OK darling? Alfonse? Are you…
-I…I…I dreamed the sa…I dreamed I got lost…in …in the library…- He said, but evaded eye contact and looked almost like he was thinking what to say next.- And the books wanted to eat me…
-That sounds scary Alfonse. - Bel said but she knew he was making it up. She wondered if he only had said that to not scare the other two more.-Oly…it was raining some time ago. I bet you heard the sound. I told you el Coco was not real and it was used to scare little disobedient children.
-So who was that woman laughing?-Asked Oly.
-And who was she hurting? And why did we dream the same thing?- Asked Sharena.
-Well like I said it was raining so maybe you two had the same idea and we have been afraid for some time so it is very likely it was just a product of that fear. I mean we were inside the library for days so Alfonse dreamed of the library.
-Brother…did you really dreamed that?- Asked Sharena pouting.
-Sharena…I..-He started but when he saw Deana appear with the tea he changed the subject.- We better take the tea while it is still hot. Do you want some Oly? Sister?
The both of them nodded and they all got up from the bed and sat by the tea table.
Bel watched them sit down from the bed, then followed. They drank the tea in silence and headed to bed. Deana had slipped some calming potion in the tea for the kids to sleep. Bel had asked not to give her any.
Deana went to rest again. Bel turned to see Oly and Sharena were already asleep, but Alfonse was visibly fighting to stay awake.
- It is a dreamless sleep potion Alfonse. Do not be afraid of sleep.
-I…I dreamed the…the…the same dream…the man that was screaming…the man…he was…
-Alfonse?
Alfonse had tried to stay awake long enough for girls to go to sleep so he could tel Bel what he had dreamed, but sleep had come faster than he could handle. The dream was too important not to tell, but as he sunk into sleep it dissolved into nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
#feh#feh lif#feh lif x summoner#fe alfonse#feh alfonse#fe heroes#feh kiran#feh summoner#feh alfonse x summoner#feh alfonse x oc#self ship#fire emblem heroes#alfonse#lif#fire emblem
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Threads of Fate Part 6
Things are about to get crazy. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.
Read on AO3 here :)
Emma had always been formidable in the face of any challenge. Her hard work and tenacity had landed her the position she currently held at one of the most coveted firms in London. In her short time there, she had risen through the ranks, and become senior counsel.
The board meeting had been planned for months. Investors wanted to recoup on profits after the massive overhaul of spending expenses. Emma and a hand-full of other top counsel had spent long hours creating new budgets, contracts, and spending spreadsheets.
She had grown use to the dismissals in the past, but still she strived to move forward. This time she worked endlessly, staying late at the office, just to make her presentation perfect. Her hard work landed her here, and she was adamant on proving her place. She also knew her numbers and business plan were the most lucrative.
As the meeting dragged on, it would seem her presentation was not top on the list. Even more, the meeting was coming to a close, and she still had not been given the floor. The head of business went to end the meeting, and Emma stood, taking her opportunity.
“I am sorry, sirs, but I have yet to give my presentation.”
He just looked at her, not an ounce of apology on his face. “Perhaps next time, Ms. Neel.”
Everyone gave their parting words, and the room began to clear.
Emma sat in the empty conference room, wondering why she worked so hard, why she was placed here to just once again be dismissed. Then she realized, she was just another woman trying to make her place in the world of men.
~
Over the next many days, the raiders moved inland toward the outskirts of London. Camp was set up, and Emma’s tent placed right beside the kings. Her blue linen dress and vest were swapped out for a long tunic and pants, both the color of the earth. She wore leather bracers on her forearms along with the vest. The pendent Jarl Haakon gifted her still around her neck. Agnarr had given her a spare dagger from their armory.
The next couple of weeks would be filled with preparing, scouting, and constructing the battle plan to take the castle. Canute stayed busy speaking with the other warriors and leaders, keeping everyone on task.
Emma caught up with the Greenlanders each day, happy to spend more time with them. She liked watching them train, and even asked Leif how to put her dagger to good use.
Leif showed her some basic moves of self-defense, and how to disarm a person, should she be at a disadvantage. The prospect of being a little more self-assured for whatever the future held made Emma feel better. Although she still realized she would be no match for anyone in this camp, or a trained soldier.
One particular day, many were gathered around the king’s tent, when she was summoned to meet them there. Everyone was clearly strategizing over intricate matters, and Leif was among them.
Upon arrival, Emma sheepishly entered. “You asked for me, my lord.”
The king motioned for her to join them around the table. “We are discussing possible routes to enter the castle.” A map was laid out before them on the table. Without her glasses it was difficult to see, but she would give her best effort. She looked over it, noting the names, locations. It did not look much different from what she had seen in history books.
Olaf looked at her with accusing eyes. The king had clearly called her here for advice or pointers, a perspective she might be able to give. Emma also knew that he made a statement with his actions—one that said he trusted her, and no one should question it.
She racked her brain looking over the map to see what came to her, and then she remembered.
On the day she had traveled to this time, she had been reading of this very historical event. If history was true, then the Vikings would need to enter at the south, where the marshes resided. That is where the London Bridge was located.
“The marshes would provide ample cover for an army to hide in waiting. You could lure the young king into a trap.” While the King of England, Æthelred, may have passed away, his son had taken his place. This young king would be the one leading the army.
“And what kind of trap would that be?”, Olaf scoffed. “How would we know soldiers won’t just charge us over the bridge?”
Leif stepped up next to her. “Because we can tear the London Bridge down.”
~
Emma’s contribution to enter at the south through the marshland was proving to be more than helpful. Olaf knew of paths that led through the marshes toward the entrance of the bridge. Leif, Harold and the others had gone to scout the locations. An ambush had set them back, but once Leif was recovered, they devised a new strategy. Smaller boats were constructed that reminded Emma of surf boards. These would be used to get them through the water but leave them low enough to not be seen.
Emma sat outside her tent. Night had fallen sooner than she wished, and tomorrow would bring so much uncertainty. The plans were solid, but there was always that little bit of doubt. Even the king had sought every possible outcome before deciding on the ultimate course of action.
She watched him as he left the Greenlanders’ camp, coming up the path toward his tent. The moon light made everything look luminescent. The man walking toward her looked blended into the shadows.
Tomorrow would change so much. In a matter of hours, he would be preparing to ride out for the final battle—his call for revenge would be heard. Yet, he stopped by her tent, that light in his eyes there again she rarely saw.
“May I join you?”
Emma scooted to the side. The absence of her leather bracers and vest making her more comfortable. She folded her knees and rested her arms around them, her hair fell loosely down her back. She had not braided it sense the day she first met him, if one called that a meeting.
Canute sat beside her; a fur mantle rested on his shoulders. The cool night air sent a chill down her back, and she rubbed her arms to warm herself. “Here, please, take this.” He took off his fur and gently placed it around her shoulders.
Emma thanked him. “You know, I am starting to think this whole ruthless image you have going on is a charade”, she said to him teasingly.
For the first time, she saw a small twist of his lips, something of a humored smirk. “I like the way you think. One must always be prepared for the unexpected.”
“I see. So that is why you brought a strange, unknown woman with you into war.” She meant this to further tease him, but he addressed her with all sincerity. “I have known many enemies, Emma. You are not one of them.”
The air around them changed, and she re-adjusted to face him more fully. Her thoughts returning to his lips, his stern brown, the beard that framed his face almost blended into the night. It would seem he too was staring at her, like he wanted to stamp the image of her face into his mind forever.
“Just promise me you won’t get hurt tomorrow.” Her words were edged with concern but held a yearning she unsure how to feel about. He took her hand in his, planting a firm kiss to the inside of her palm. “I won’t, but even if I did, I would have fulfilled my promise.”
He still held her hand, and she found that she had gravitated toward him more. They lingered like that for a moment, the feel of his lips having ignited a fervent need in her.
His next words broke her hazed mind.
“Goodnight, Emma.” She could not keep the disappointed expression from her face but knew he would don his armor in a matter of hours. So, he parted ways with her, leaving his fur behind.
Emma fell asleep wrapped in the warmth the king had gifted. The memory of his kiss in her mind.
At some point Emma was awakened by the small sound of rustling and snapping of a stick. Someone was outside. The darkness prevented her from seeing anything clearly.
“Canute?”
She did not have to wait long for an answer. A strong hand hooked around her mouth, stifling her breath and scream. Another pair of hands grabbed her by the legs, and they both lifted till she was suspended in air. She kicked and writhed, trying to free one of her feet so she could run. The grip on her hands prevented her from reaching her dagger at her waist.
They dragged her into the nearest woods, the moon no longer visible through the tress. Emma felt a thud to her head, and total blackness swallowed her mind.
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favorite prophecy of Messiah
This week we are looking at prophecies and promises from the Old Testament of the coming Messiah. Today I share with you my favorite and maybe the most common or most well known. It is ripe with meaning and pointing to what Jesus did for us.
It also gives us a great picture of Jesus’ place from the Father. Read on and note the things about Jesus that stand out to you.
Isaiah 52:13-15 NLT
See, my servant will prosper; he will be highly exalted. 14 But many were amazed when they saw him. His face was so disfigured he seemed hardly human, and from his appearance, one would scarcely know he was a man. 15 And he will startle many nations. Kings will stand speechless in his presence. For they will see what they had not been told; they will understand what they had not heard about.
Keep reading.
Isaiah 53:1-12 NLT
Who has believed our message? To whom has the Lord revealed his powerful arm? 2 My servant grew up in the Lord’s presence like a tender green shoot, like a root in dry ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him. 3 He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care. 4 Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins! 5 But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed. 6 All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God’s paths to follow our own. Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all. 7 He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. 8 Unjustly condemned, he was led away. No one cared that he died without descendants, that his life was cut short in midstream. But he was struck down for the rebellion of my people. 9 He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. But he was buried like a criminal; he was put in a rich man’s grave. 10 But it was the Lord’s good plan to crush him and cause him grief. Yet when his life is made an offering for sin, he will have many descendants. He will enjoy a long life, and the Lord’s good plan will prosper in his hands. 11 When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish, he will be satisfied. And because of his experience, my righteous servant will make it possible for many to be counted righteous, for he will bear all their sins. 12 I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier, because he exposed himself to death. He was counted among the rebels. He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.
Now. Right there. Too much for one day. Easter is only a few weeks away. Jesus was sent by God, and there you have the prophecy and promises of His fully being man and how God dealt with our struggle with life, death and sin.
God gives us life. One more day this week, and we will pull some of this a part. I hope you marked the places that were strongest to you in these verses. It is good.
More tomorrow. Easter is ahead! Let’s get ready for the resurrection.
#e-devotion#devotion#devo#cross#jesus#christ#prophecy#prophecies#promise#God#Isaiah#church#faith#chistian#easter#resurrection#Michael Harrison#The Community Fellowship
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Khalsas do not cut their hair and have the strength of Brahma, Khuda, et... Khalsas do not cut their hair and have the strength of Brahma, Khuda, Yahweh, etc. as displayed by Samson. https://youtu.be/72wqIEE13-I Punjabi - Khalsa appreciates the beauty of Brahma and Fight like Shiv called Har Har Mahadev Dev. https://youtu.be/v8EkAbL7k2c Punjabi - Third of the Khalsa Panth and the Fourth of Apostles, Nirmallae Sants; both are not family men/women. Meeran Bhai was a Saint. Punjabi - CONCEPT OF THE FOUR RELIGIOUS COMMUNITIES. THIRD AND FOURTH COMMUNITY OF PAR SHIV TO ESTABLISH RIGHTEOUSNESS AND PREACH THE GOSPEL – PART 3 AND 4. Punjabi - Four Communities of religion:- 3rd and 4th Communities for earning the Treasures of God. The Third Panth Khalsa and the Fourth Panth of the Nirmallae Santan or the Apostles was organised by Sache Patshah Gobind Rai Ji, the very Form of Akaal Purakh and His Sons represented Him by performing the Philanthropic Political Works as the solitary, NIAARE Khalsa Soldiers of “PAR SHIV” (Daeh Shiva Var Mohae… sons of Shiv/Adam let us fight against the sons of Satan) to sort out the stubborn sons of Satan Al-Djmar Al-Aksa, the religious fanatics – John 8v44 and by the Word of Mouth by the Apostles. Both of them were initiated by beheading the Five on the stage and then sewing the head of one with the Torso of the other. And they were revived through Nectar of His Word that created “Philia” Love among the solitary “Khalsas”. That is why sugar Pataashe were added by Mahan Devan, Mother Holy Spirit, in the Nectar of His Word prepared by the Royal Father Par Shiv Sache Patshah Gobind Rai Ji, the Representation of our Supernatural Father as Shiva, the personified political head of Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc., the Lord of Nature was Lord Krishna, the incarnation of “Shiv”. Later on, Par Shiv Royal King Gobind Rai Ji Himself became “Gobind Singh Ji” through the same Amrit leaving no Gap between the Father and His Sons, the Khalsas of the Third Panth and the Nirmallae Santan, the Apostles of the Fourth Panth that enjoy “Storge” Love of the Family of God. Like the Apostles of the First Satguru = Christ Jesus, they didn’t carry money, two pairs of shoes, etc. on their Journeys Preaching Gospel from their own hearts. My own family members used to honour them and my late father also enjoyed their company. The Third and the Fourth Lanvs apply to these two spiritual states BUDHI (Holy ghost) and CHITT BIRTTI (Holy Spirit). Thus, unless you are a “Hindu”, sons of Man, Brahma, Yahweh, Khuda, etc., the Lords of Nature as demonstrated by Lord Krishna, the incarnation of Shiv, the Political Head of Brahma, you cannot be a Sikh, the sons of the Highest Elohim, Allah, ParBrahm, etc. In short, you give money or tithe to Brahmin/Rabbi Guru/Priest, the Moral Teacher - Matt 13v52 - for teaching you the moral laws, Munn, mind or Nafs to your own “Innerman called Satguru = Christ” to learn the Gospel through logical reasoning (intuition) led by “holy ghost or Budhi” and finally led by your “innerman Waheguru, the Satguru that deserves the applauses”, you present, BHAINT, your “TANN and MUNN” to Sache Patshah for rendering services to humanity as a Khalsa or Nirmala Sant, the Apostle, etc. That is, both the Khalsas and the Nirmallae Sants are NOT FAMILY PEOPLE. Thus, Only the sealed to serve God, the Gurmukh/Mussallman could be the Servants of Akal Purakh. According to the principle of Trinity, you have holy sons, the once-born like Peter/BaeMukh Khalsas. Example is the 40 MUKTTAE, of the twice-born clever/MUNNMUKH is the Sodhi Khatri Lala Banda Bahadur who organised the killing of Sachae Patshah Gobind Singh Ji warning the Khalsas not to trust anyone else but themselves as solitary, NIAARA. This Lala Banda Bahadur Sodhi Khatri had the habit of learning the skills and then trying to kill his Master to occupy his Seat/Gadhi. After the death of Sachae Patshah Gobind Singh Ji, this Lala Banda Bahadur proclaimed himself to be the next Sachae Patshah. Or you cannot trust a greedy person/LOBHHI KAA VASAH NAA KI JAYAE; JAYE KO PAAR VASAAYE or the MUNNMUKHS are the tail of a Dog/KUTTAE DEE POOCH. For further details, read my Book in Punjabi “KAKHH OHLAE LAKHH” www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/pdbook.pdf or in English “FIRST GNOSTIC PRINCIPLES OF ONE GOD ONE FAITH” www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/book.htm. Both these Books need revisions for minor updates. Youtube video on this Part 3 and 4:- https://youtu.be/W5Yf3JnLLUE Hajj www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/faithfat.pdf Punjabi http://youtu.be/9DqMvO1hb0U For the unlisted videos:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/Unlisted.htm My ebook by Kindle. ASIN: B01AVLC9WO Private Bitter Gospel Truth videos:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/JAntisem.htm www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/JOHN 8V44.htm www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/Rest.htm Any helper to finish my Books:- ONE GOD ONE FAITH:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/bookfin.pdf Punjabi www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/pdbook.pdf Very informative Channel:- Punjab Siyan. John's baptism:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/johnsig.pdf Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf
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Notorious Marijuana Smuggler In To Philadelphia
Lesson: Being self-employed is a financial roller-coaster ride. Have financial reserves in place before begins your business so that you just can pay your bills until you begin making a fortune. And, a person are come up short of cash, try negotiation to your suppliers or vendors to get more favorable payment terms.
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George Washington's family (on both sides) had been in the colonies for particularly 2 generations. He considered himself a Virginian, however, his loyalties were with no King of Britain. He was Mediterranean. He was a soldier in the British armed service. I tell the kids to close their gaping mouths and think on your minute. I remind students that we're talking of a time period before land. We look at our map for a second time. I remind them that everyone who lived in the 13 colonies were not citizens of the us but were citizens of British colonies and were loyal towards the King.
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How many people do u think the cullens have killed?
A lot.
I’ll try to answer on a Cullen to Cullen basis, and make my estimate as conservative as possible. Also, for this estimate I'll look only at direct kills, complicity doesn’t count, which for example means I won’t add Royce King II & friends to Carlisle’s count, even though he made himself complicit when he helped Rosalie plot their murders.
Without further ado:
Alice has had her accidents, plural, so 2≤ humans. After joining the Cullens, mind you, we don’t know how she lived as a newborn. I’d guess her visions told her to feed from animal blood early on, to accustom her to it sooner rather than later so life among the Cullens would be easier.
The interesting thing about Alice having a body count is that her gift should be helpful in avoiding these kinds of situations, meaning that Alice’s accidents have caught her unawares.
So, we have at least two humans, and considering the newborn army the number might be higher. Might. Jasper tried his damndest to keep Alice safe in that fight, so it stands to reason he killed anyone who got close to her. Alice might not have had the chance to kill any newborns. If she did, and counting kills she helped with, then I’d put my estimate at a conservative 0-1.
Then we have Rosalie, who says she has the second best streak in the family, second only to Carlisle. Rose killed 5 humans (she corrects herself a bit later to 7, but this doesn’t make a difference. She’s still second best to Carlisle). She admittedly doesn’t mention Alice, but if Alice had a better record than her she likely would have. Which jumps Alice up another few steps, to 8≤.
Bella hasn’t killed anyone. 0.
Carlisle had a perfect record until the newborn army attacked. So, no humans, but most likely newborns.
When Carlisle attacks Bree in “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner”, it’s a fast and brutal attack. I’ll just paste the scene:
A blond vampire glanced at me, meeting my gaze, and his eyes flashed gold in the sunlight. (...)
I turned and really ran for the trees (...)
I was a few feet into the trees when a force like a wrecking ball hit me from behind and threw me to the ground. An arm slipped under my chin. (The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, page 91)
For the record, holy shit Carlisle, that was so brutal! I can’t believe that the minute Bella steps off screen the guy rips off his shirt and becomes the Terminator. Damn.
... Point being, Carlisle was an active participant in that battle. It makes ethical sense for him to be, the newborns had to die, it would have been hypocritical to tell his family “you guys go roll in the mud, I’m too saintly to get my hands dirty”, and if he didn’t pitch in his family and the shapeshifters would be in danger. It becomes morally just to join in the battle, and with a zeal at that. Or at least that’s how he appears to have reasoned, because holy shit, Carlisle took the gloves off.
So, Carlisle can reasonably be assumed to have killed at least 1 newborn, likely more. I’d say 3 at the most, though there’s the possibility that he co-opted some kills with the others. (I have more thoughts further down).
Edward left for four years to eat people. At first he ate junkies and homeless people, they did not taste good. Would this have motivated him to eat more than one every fortnight? Alas, I’m keeping my estimate conservative, so let’s wager no.
So, one human per fortnight for four years. 26*4=104. That’s the lowest possible estimate of people Edward killed, though I’m inclined to think higher. Given his mission to stop evil, if Edward found a rapist it’s not like he’d go “aw shucks, I can’t kill him yet because it hasn’t been a full two weeks!”
Add Victoria to that count, and we’re at 105≤.
Emmett killed his two singers, but considering Rosalie’s statement he too falls under the 8≤ number. He helped kill James, which adds +1 to the vampire tally.
Then comes the newborn battle. Bree sees him kill one of the newborns, so we know he got some action. I’ll make the same assumption as I did for Carlisle, which is 1-3. So, 2-4 vampires total.
Esme is explicitly stated to have a worse record than Rosalie. She has killed 8 people or more.
As for the newborn army, I’m not sure I can picture it. If Esme did kill anyone, I imagine it was along with others. Let’s put her down for 1.
Jasper my poor guy, he’s in another league. Turned in 1863, he lived with Maria until 1938, then met Alice and became a vegetarian in 1948. He’s had a few accidents since.
From 1863 to 1938 I think we should assume one person per week, as strength was paramount in the world of newborn armies, blood was a reward for soldiers, and Jasper won Maria a lot of territory. They would not want for blood, and he recounts she rewarded him often. So, 52*75=3900 dead humans.
Jasper then runs off with Peter and Charlotte, presumably eating at a normal rate of every other week. We don’t know when he split off from them, but let’s assume an even split and that he left after five years, leaving another five years of lone wandering where he tried to starve himself. So, 26*5=130 for his years with Peter and Charlotte, then assuming he made it a month each fast before surrendering, 13*5=75 for the lone years.
We then have accidents. He’s had more accidents than any of the other Cullen children (I don’t think it’s every actually specified that he’s had more accidents than them all, meaning Esme could still have slipped more), putting him at 9≤ accidents.
Then comes the vampires he’s killed. We know he killed Nettie, Lucy, and James, so that’s 3.
Newborns take time to train, but to make up for that we have a lot of armies. Let’s assume Maria’s army got into one battle every six months. Let’s assume Jasper always killed at least 1 vampire. (See what I meant by conservative? In my defense, Victoria’s army was huge and not at all representative) That’s 130≤ vampires.
Jasper also mentions that as a newborn he kept getting into fights with his brothers-in-arms, he killed several. So, let’s assume 4≤, since it sounds like it was certainly more than 2.
More numerous are the vampires he executed. Jasper’s gift meant Maria could have a lot more soldiers than most, and he doubled her army’s numbers. His first major accomplishment was to make her an army of 23 newborns. Assuming he kept up this good work, knowing as we do that Jasper was the only vampire Maria never replaced, and assuming some newborns were lost to infighting or battles, we can assume a replacement cycle of Maria needing 20 vampires executed on a yearly basis. 20*75 = 1500. Which... does feel a little high, but Jasper’s backstory is extreme.
As for the newborn battle, let’s assume 4.
Renesmée hasn’t killed anyone either, 0.
Rosalie we know for sure, 7 humans. Let’s assume as with Carlisle and Emmett that she took out 1-3 vampires.
(NOTE: When it comes to how many newborns from Victoria’s army each Cullen killed, all we can do is estimate:
The Cullens divided evenly with the shapeshifters. There were 16 newborns at the battle, giving us 8 newborns per Cullen. There were 6 Cullens present, meaning at least 1 each. Jasper did more than his fair share, and Alice and Esme can both be speculated to have been smaller parts in this battle. I think it’s fair to assume Carlisle, Emmett, and Rosalie killed at least 1 newborn each, though likely more, especially if we take shared kills into consideration. I think 1-3 is a fair assumption, and I’m tempted to assume Jasper killed was everywhere and it feels like lowballing to estimate 4.)
Total:
Alice: 8≤ humans, 0-1** vampire. 9 total
Bella: 0
Carlisle*: 1-3**, all vampires.
Edward: 104≤ humans, 1 vampire. 105≤ total
Emmett: 8≤ humans, 2-4** vampires. 10≤ total
Esme: 8≤ humans, 1 vampire. 9≤ total
Jasper: 4105≤ humans, 1638≤** vampires. 5743≤ total
Renesmée: 0
Rosalie*: 7 humans, 1-3** vampires. 8≤ total
*with both Carlisle and Rosalie we have an upper limit. Carlisle’s body count can’t be higher than 15, and Rosalie’s can’t be higher than 22 (I get the number 15 from 16-1 newborns, as there’s one vampire we know for a fact was killed by Emmett alone) and that would be in an extremely contrived scenario where he or she was somehow everywhere at once.
** when adding up the total of vampires killed by Cullens at the newborn army, regardless of the composition of who killed who, the sum is (assuming an even split with the shapeshifters) 8.
Added together, this gives us:
4240≤ humans and 1643≤ vampires.
If we remove Jasper’s past from the equation, because newborn army George who spent 75 years in a newborn army killing every day is an outlier and should not have been counted, then the tally becomes:
144≤ humans and 10 vampires.
If we remove Edward’s rebellious era from the equation, as he was not a Cullen at the time, the human tally sinks to:
40≤ humans. (This is counting Rosalie’s revenge. There have been 33≤ accidents.)
This is the lowest possible estimate. The number is likely higher.
Special thanks to @theunexpectedness on the Twilight Forever discord for digging up her copy of “The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner” for me so I could get my quotes straight.
Also, feel free to point out errors in the math. I’m sure I’ve made some.
#alice cullen#bella swan#carlisle cullen#edward cullen#esme cullen#emmet cullen#emmett cullen#(no i still haven't decided how many t's)#jasper hale#rosalie hale#renesmée cullen#twilight#twilight renaissance#twilight meta#Anonymous#ask#long post
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pairing: prince Xiao x servant gn reader
req: no | wc: 908 | royal au
part 1 | part 2 (you are here) | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
taglist: @hanniejji
Xiao was called the Vigilant Yaksha after that day at the market, but vigilant did not derive from vigilante. It was true that he did not associate himself with the milelith, but he was more observative than anything.
Which was related to why he watched over you.
You’ve served him for years, and in that time, he’s grown to care about you. You being the only person he’s interacted with apart from his siblings made him feel… attached.
Xiao hated that.
He didn’t like feeling like he depended on you, but he knew he did. He didn’t like knowing that if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be going to bed with a warm meal in his stomach. He did not like depending on others, and certainly not on you. You already had so much on your plate.
He also hated how… he grew to like you. It was stupid, really, because his crush on you would only burden you more.
He didn’t like crushes. He didn’t like the burning feeling in his chest every time he looked at you. Yet, even with the uncomfort and nervousness that came with this warmth, he still seeked out to feel it again.
He was vigilant in that he observed you from far away. He admired your beauty, the labor you put into serving his family, and especially the activities you did in your spare time.
Sometimes, when the prince was supposedly in bed, he snuck out to find you. It would be late at night when he found you under candlelight, reading a book. He could not imagine the strain you put on your eyes for the sake of joy gained from a story, and he could only imagine just how much you yearned to read another chapter of it during each hour of strenuous labor.
Other times, as he roamed the enormous palace grounds, he would hear the familiar sound of a 笛子, a transverse flute. He recognized the melody as Rhythm against the Reeds, a piece that was played with various instruments, though the flute was the lead. Even alone, it sounded wonderful, almost ethereal.
He enjoyed the melody, almost as much as he enjoyed being with you. He didn’t want you to stop playing anytime soon, but perhaps he should’ve hid better if he wanted that.
“Your highness?” You quickly move to bow your head and stop playing.
“Keep playing.” Xiao commands, to which you must obey. Now that his cover is blown, yet you’re thankfully willing to play, he can admire you closer.
It’s harder to play with the prince’s piercing gaze on your every movement, but his curiosity -akin to a cat’s- is adorable. You keep playing, if only to satisfy his interest and keep that look of awe on his face.
It’s not long before the piece is finished. It was a short one, lasting a mere minute, so it’s no surprise to hear the prince’s consequent command. “Play another.”
“Of course.”
The children of the King did not meddle with the Rite of Descension. They had no reason to attend, for their father’s prophecies were readily available in the palace. Aside from that, they could not give any prophecies of their own. He was far wiser than they were, even if their intellect might match. No teacher, cheap or expensive, could teach them anything that Rex Lapis knew.
As such, when the annual Rite of Descencion came upon the citizens once more, no Adepti were present.
“You play well.”
You bow your head as you finish a piece, “Thank you.”
The prince had grown fond of your flute playing, often letting you take some time off work to play the flute, as long as he was around. The other servants were starting to notice, but if they were to complain about unfairness, Xiao would silence them. He had an obvious bias towards you, one that he often denied.
“What other hobbies do you have?” This is an unexpected question. Adepti rarely ever talked to their servants in a personal way, much less to get to know them.
Among the servant hearsay, you had never heard of anybody who’s had a similar experience to the one you’re having now.
You gulp, suddenly nervous. You knew Xiao had grown to care for you, but you did not think the loner prince would attempt to know you better. “I read a few books here and there… aside from that, I don’t have the free time.”
“Which ones?”
Xiao was often in polearm training or out in the kingdom doing things that no servants should know. You don’t think you’ve really seen him read, so why is he asking? “Tales from the Waves, Rex Incognito, A Legend of Sword...”
Tales from the Waves, a story of a seafarer fighting sea monsters. Valiant, but fiction nonetheless. Rex Incognito, a collection of stories from times his father supposedly went incognito in his own kingdom. Xiao personally didn’t believe it, since the old man was, well, old. A Legend of Sword… a story he had never heard of. “Where did you get the last one?”
“Wanwen bookstore. The librarian said she never stocked them though.”
As he begins to talk, the prince is interrupted by a millelith sergeant bursts into the room. “Your highness!” They cry, forgetting all their courtesies of bowing and such.
“What is it?” Xiao asks. The soldier is clearly in distress.
“Rex Lapis has been murdered.”
#xiao x reader#xiao x gn reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#genshin royal au#🌺-m.fluff
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The Blood King and his Queen [3]
Pairing: Bakugou x reader
Romance, Angst, Drama
Word count: 2.3K
Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?
A/N: I hope you get just as much second-hand embarrassment from this episode as I did. Thank you for waiting and being patient! I hope this chapter was worth waiting for! Look forward to the very end for a special ending scene. Honestly, I was imagining it like an anime and its like an extra that they put in... idk please bare with me. I thought it was funny! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! :) happy reading, loves!
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Dinner was eaten in silence. After your smart remark, you didn’t have anything more to say to each other. At least, you didn’t know what to say to him. Was it the best choice to be sassy with him? Probably not. But did he deserve it after being rude to your first? Absolutely.
You looked up from your meal to see Bakugou stuffing his face in an angry matter. Only, Bakugou wasn’t angry. He was just like that, little did you know.
The next morning was no different. Breakfast was eaten in silence. If it wasn’t for that small interaction you had with him the night prior, you would have sworn the mighty Blood Prince was mute. But Kirishima swore to you that the prince doesn’t usually act this way. You’d believe it when you see it.
You had joined Bakugou for breakfast and to your surprise, the table was full with dishes; dishes you recognized and dishes you’ve never seen before. Everything was neatly organized and pretty to look at. It was a sight that you’ve seen before. You don’t know why you’re shocked every time.
“Princess,” Bakugou’s deep voice greeted you out of nowhere. You were startled and confused to hear the prince greet you. Up until this point, he has never even greeted you let alone acknowledge you when you step into the room. Was he finally out of his ‘bad mood’, from what Kirishima told you?
“Your Highness,” you greeted him back with a small bow. Kirishima led you to your spot at the table. When you got situated in your seat, he moved like how he did the previous night and stood guard while you and your ‘fiancé’ enjoyed your meal.
The food presented to you, although foreign looking, looked mouthwatering. And when you looked closer, there were many dishes that you actually knew but only plated differently. So of course, you dug in. Like a princess, no doubt. Or, what you thought like what a princess would do. You took itty bitty bites with your best posture: back straight, chin high, careful not to spill any food on you. Since you don’t have many chances to talk to his highness, meal times are the only times that you could make an impression. Last nights endeavors didn’t seem like it made a lasting impression of hate. Looks like its time to bring it up a notch.
“Excuse me for the corniness, your highness,” you started. Bakugou glanced up. Once again those piercing red eyes made you hold your breath for a second. You raised a spoonful of the yellow corn that was on your plate and gave a cheeky smile. “But this is really a-maize-ing!”
Only the sound of your laughter echoed throughout the dining room. Kirishima’s jaw physical drops in shock. Meanwhile, Bakugou stopped chewing, stopped eating and stared at you.
“Lettuce celebrate to our engagement,” you continued to joke, stabbing your fork in the green leaf and held it high as if you were giving a toast. Bakugou’s face didn’t change one bit. But Kirishima looked mortified. He looked back between you and his angry-looking friend, afraid of how he would react to your not-so comical puns.
The longer he stared at you with his blank eyes, the more cold sweat you began to accumulate. The more cold sweat, the more nervous you became and thus, the more panicky you became. He wasn’t laughing at anything you were saying. You panicked. This was not the reaction you were hoping for. You had to say something. You gave him a nervous laugh again and frantically searched for the next best thing.
“Kiwi at least be friends?” you lifted up the delicate fruit with a glimmer of hope in your eyes. Again, no reaction. Kirishima wanted to cover his face so bad. He couldn’t take this torture anymore! But he had to remain professional. “No? Okay,” you gave up, your voice disappearing into a whisper. Pouting and looking down, you ate your meal quietly. You’ve never felt more embarrassed for yourself than in this moment. Heat rose to your cheeks and you wanted to hide away, never to be seen again.
The moment you looked down in embarrassment, Bakugou tried to stifle a laugh. The sides of his lips couldn’t help but curl up in a small smirk. He tried to eat something to calm him down, but as soon as his lips met the metal fork, his lips curled into a side smile that couldn’t be hid. But you were unable to see this side of Bakugou due to your mortification. Kirishima, on the other hand, raised a brow in amusement. This wasn’t a sight you could see every day.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou addressed the red-head. Straightening his posture, Kirishima put his hands beside his back and raised his chin high.
“Your highness,” Kirishima answered.
“Make sure the princess is ready by the time the horses are packed. We have a long trip ahead of us,” the prince announced and was about to leave, but not before you stood up to stop him.
“Trip? Where are we going?” you asked in a frantic matter. There was a moment’s pause.
“As my queen-to-be, you should know the kingdom, no?” he glanced back. This time, his eyes were not so aggressive. There was amusement and a hint of a challenge, as if he was trying to challenge you. The prince made his way out of the dining hall and back to this residence.
After taking you back to your room to get ready for your trip around the kingdom, Kirishima made a pitstop at the prince’s quarters to pay visit.
“I saw that,” Kirishima commented, relaxing the moment the door closed behind him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bakugou tried to brush it off, but he knows that he’s been caught.
“I’ve never seen you like that around a princess, before. You like her?” Kirishima teased. Bakugou let out a breathy smirk.
“She’s interesting, that’s for sure,” he admit.
“I mean, what was she saying out there? Out of character for a princess, right?” Kirishima finally let out a laugh.
“So out of character that it was funny,” Bakugou, too, let out a small laugh. A moment of laughter passed and Kirishima got serious.
“You think she’s the one you’re looking for?” he asked. But Bakugou couldn’t say for sure.
“We’ll find out after this trip, won’t we?” Bakugou grabbed his iconic cape, draped it over his shoulders and powerfully made his way to the front entrance.
By the time that you were finished getting ready, you made your way to where Bakugou and a group of soldiers was getting geared up. You were dressed in a lighter, more fit for travel, dress. If you moved, the dress wouldn’t be in your way. Although white, your servants packed you many more dresses just like the one you were wearing. Your hair was flowing naturally down your face, leaving an ethereal, fairy-like appearance.
Bakugou has brought several soldiers along for the trip, all either carrying a box, securing it on the cart, or making sure that all the materials are present. Insides the boxes ranged from a variety of things: food to wood to medicine supplies. You weren’t sure why you need so many things, but you thought it was for safe precautions? Bring more so you don’t worry about it.
“Your highness, everything has been prepared,” Kirishima announced, saluting to his highness. Bakugou stood tall with his signature glare that didn’t seem to faze Kirishima at all.
“Double check?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“We have extra food and clothing?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“The tent is packed?”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Weapons are secured?”
“Yes, your highness.” Bakugou flared his nostrils and nodded his head.
“Good man. Let’s head out!” he bellowed. On cue, all of the soldiers that were coming were hopping on their horses. You looked around nervously. You had never ridden a horse before, let alone seen one in person. Did they expect you to know to ride one? But there was no extra horse for you. You were about to ask Kirishima but then, a hand is reached out to you. Turning around, you see the Blood Prince, himself, giving you his hand.
“My lady,” he gently grabbed the tips of your fingers, bringing them to his lips. His gaze never leaving yours for a second. You were expecting him to kiss your hand, but instead, he gently laid his lips on top of his thumb where it rested between his lips and your fingers. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you couldn’t stop the shocked expression that was blatant on your face.
The prince helped you on the horse but what you weren’t expecting was him to hop on the same horse right behind you. His presence closer than what you have wanted in such a short amount of time. His arms reached around your waist to grab the ropes, unexpectedly pulling you closer to his chest.
Sitting in front of him, you were as stiff as a board. You couldn’t relax your shoulders because if you did, you would be resting against his body. The beginning of the ride was met in silence. No talking was happening, not even among his solders. Talk about an awkward trip. You hoped it wasn’t going to be like this the entire trip. You would be so miserable.
It took a while to escape the palace grounds, but once you did, you were surprised by how beautifully green and luscious the scenery ahead of you was. The sight bestowed upon you was nothing like your imagination. From the rumors, if the prince was that bad of a person, then surely his kingdom would portray that same image: full of poverty, death, killing, blood. But no. His kingdom was thriving.
In order to continue on with the trip, you and your crew had to pass by the local town. The people looked content and happy. They were flourishing! There were many stands selling essentials such as clothing and food. Others were selling odd objects foreign to you. The smell of meat grilling and sweets filled your noise. Kids were running around without a care in the world. There was so much going on that you didn’t know what to focus your eyes on.
Bakugou happened to look down at you, only to see your eyes wide with excitement and wonder. Your head twisted left and ride to grasp the whole world around you. Bakugou looked at you and back at what your eyes were focused on. Behind you, he had signaled his soldiers to halt and move to the side. But you had noticed immediately.
“Why are we stopping?” you asked, curiously.
“One of these idiots forgot something.” Bakugou made up on the fly.
“But we didn’t forget anything,” the soldier with electric blonde hair commented, so quietly that you couldn’t overhear him. Kirishima just nudged him in the gut to shut him up. “Would you like to explore with me while they get it taken care of?” Bakugou asked. You were surprised but intrigued by his question. This was probably the only time in your whole life that you could explore in such a manner. You had to take advantage while you could.
“Please,” you say.
And just like that you looked like a child exploring the world for the first time. And really, that’s what it was. All your life, you served the princess. Your earliest memories were of the palace. You never knew what it was like outside the palace. Everything fascinated you: the food, the smells, the sights, the clothes, the jewelry, the accessories, the people. How could you not know about any of this?
Bakugou watched you closely as you explored on your own and smiled to himself. He was not expecting the princess to act like such a kid.
“You must never get out much in your kingdom,” he comments. You look at him with a shy smile.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Maybe just a little,” he jokes. Your shy smile turns in a more comfortable, laid back laugh.
“I’ve never been outside the palace walls. It’s a first for me,” you say. You weren’t wrong. You were speaking for yourself, but you’re sure the real princess was able to explore her kingdom.
“Now that won’t do. Get whatever you want, my treat,” Bakugou offers to you. Your eyes up once again like a kid. Bakugou gives you his head of approval and now your options were opened like you never imagined. Anything you wanted? What did you even want? You felt like just looking was a treat for you. You were about to decline until the sight of the street food caught your attention. You got a closer look and the smell just enticed you immediately.
From there, it was nonstop to discovering new foods. You tried all these sweet that you didn’t know existed. It moved from food to trying on luxurious clothing and feeling fabrics that was foreign on your skin.
You were following Bakugou around blatantly. He was commenting on some things to help educate you better. But your eyes were so easily distracted. Due to the overflow of people, if you didn’t pay attention, you could easily get lost within the crowd. Unlucky for you, the moment you looked away, the prince had already disappeared from your vision. Panic ensued in you. No matter where you turned your head, you couldn’t see that tall, blonde anywhere.
“Bakugou!” you reached out, terrified. Thank god Bakugou has good ears. The instant you called his name, he was already looking back for you. You reached out and grabbed his forearm, tightly, determined not to let go. Your actions caused Bakugou to become flustered.
“Don’t get lost,” he scolded. Idiot¸ he thought while covering his mouth and looked away. He wanted to hide the very clear blush that was on his cheeks.
A/N: As always, I would love to know your thoughts! The adventure officially begins now! If you would still like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! They are always open!
Spoiler! Next chapter will make your heart go doki-doki <3
Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs
After scene credits:
“Oi, you seeing what I’m seeing?” Kaminari, one of the soldiers chosen to tag along, observed. Kaminari and Kirishima were resting on top of the roofs, getting a clear view of you and the prince.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Kaminari,” Kirishima rubbed the temples of his head. Kaminari pouted and continued to drink out of his canteen.
“I’m just saying,” he mumbled, sadly.
#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#bakugou#bnha bakugou#bakugou imagine#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha imagine#bakugou angst#bnha art#bakugou romance#bakugou drama
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Cherry Lane Challenge Day 3 - Crow
A flutter of black, out of the corner of his left eye is what first catches his attention. His hand raises, signaling his party to stop in their tracks. There's some shuffling and a few annoyed huffs which he ignores in favor of taking careful steps towards what caught his eye in the first place.
All is still for a second and then- There. The dry sound of feathers brushing together.
Silently, he steps closer to the source of the sound. When he sees what it is, he relaxes minutely allowing himself another breath. It is but a crow, its left wing dragging over the dewy grass of the clearing. He sees no blood so he assumes it must be broken.
Another careful step takes him even closer to the scared bird, his fingers nearly brushing its feathers, so close-
"Steve, what's the hol- Is that a bird?"
Tommy and the rest of the hunting party burst into the clearing with too loud steps and raised voices, startling the bird into a frantic state once again. It squawks in its fear, broken wing fluttering pitifully as it tries to escape what it assumes to be a predator.
"I almost had it, Tommy!" He turns to his companion, features set into an angry scowl. He may only be seventeen but he was the Crown Prince and they should've listened to his orders! "Why did you break position?"
Instead of answering his question, Tommy walks past him as crouches right by the bird, poking it with a stick and laughing at its resulting squawk. "Can't believe you stopped a hunting party just to save a bird, Stevie. What are you? Snow White?"
Heat rises to the prince's cheeks and he smacks the stick out of Tommy's hands. "Leave it. It's already hurt enough without you making it worse."
Tommy quirks an eyebrow, teeth bared into a nasty smirk. He gives a mock bow that makes Steve's eyes narrow.
"As you wish, milord."
And then, making sure he's got Steve full attention, he gives the injured bird a sharp kick sending it smacking against a tree with a feeble squawk.
The bird struggles to upright itself, collapses, and tries again, before eventually just laying there. Unmoving if not for the minuscule shifts of its diaphragm. All Steve can do is watch, knowing full well that if he so much dares make a move to help it again, Tommy might outright try to crush it under the sole of his boot.
Under the raucous laughter of the soldiers, he follows the hunting party back to the deer trail they were following, the back of his neck red with poorly contained rage. All thoughts of injured crows and helpless birds are stored at the back of his brain where he no longer has to think about them again.
---
So that night, when he walks into his chambers half-drunk on too much ale and a hearty roast, the last thing he expects is to find a girl sitting on his desk chair. Her vermillion hair is cropped short and would help her pass for a man were it not for her curvaceous figure, so distinctly female even under the black robes she wears. On her head, a crooked hat sits adorned with what he thinks are feathers.
As he steps inside, she stands up and he notices her eyes appear yellow behind her spectacles.
"Who are you?" He tries to sound authoritative, like the prince he's supposed to be, but he's too drunk to manage anything more than slurred inquisitiveness.
"Don't you recognize me?" Her lips barely move as she speaks and yet her voice comes out as a shrill squawk, not too different from the frantic sounds of the crow in the forest. It makes him flinch, taking a step back. "Maybe this will help jog your memory."
Under his watchful gaze, he sees her shift into the same crow he saw that morning. His eyes follow the bird as it flies around the room once, before landing on the chair. A blink later, and the girl from before is sitting in the same spot.
No. Not a girl.
A witch.
Because of fucking course the crow had to be a witch. That was just his life.
"Look, I'm sorry for what Tommy did to you earlier today and I truly wished to help you but if I did-"
"But if you did, your companions might've killed me while you watched." She hums, inspecting her sharp nails with clear disinterest. "Those are but excuses and we both know it."
"They are not-!"
The witch clicks her tongue disapprovingly and he finds the words he meant to say dying on his tongue. Fear rises in him, and only then does he consider that the reason she's here and not with Tommy is that he's the one she's planning to hurt.
"It is an excuse, darling." She fixes him with a sharp glare. "You're Steve Harrington, Crown Prince of the kingdom of Hawkmond. They should respect you and yet your own foot soldiers treat you like you're below the sole of their feet."
A feeble protest rises in his throat but she only has but to look, before silence descends upon him again. The worst part? She is absolutely right.
"You're weak-willed. Spineless. A disaster in the making." She huffs, taking the few steps that separate them until they are standing almost nose to nose. "I shall not allow a person like that to ruin what this kingdom could become."
In her yellow eyes, he sees rage flash however briefly, and he wonders what sort of circumstances led a witch to care this much for the outcome of a whole kingdom. It is but a split-second judgment, yet it's all he manages.
For the next thing he knows, pain radiates from every single nerve ending in his body. He falls upon his knees, writhing in agony, and through his anguished screams, he swears he can hear the witch croon in a sticky-sweet voice.
Scion of swords and kings
A curse of feather and blood
Placed upon thee
For thine will is brittle as bone
This shape thou shall keep
Til’ the day thy soul’s to pass
Unless thy lesson is learned
And thee flies with thine own wings
By the next morning, every single person in the Capitol knows Crown Prince Steve Harrington has gone missing. None a single clue left behind to find him.
---
He finds out pretty quickly that the best way to find food in the forest is to follow the wolves.
It's been two months since the night he was cursed, and Steve's come to the conclusion that while sometimes annoying, being a bird wasn't as awful as he first assumed it would be. Flying was nice once he managed to get the hang of it, and messing with the occasional villager while he indulged in the instinctual desire to steal shiny things was something he hadn't expected to enjoy so much.
But he really could do without the feeding.
The first few days he had outright refused to take part of any rotten bit of meal he found, no matter how appetizing it might've seemed to his new instincts.
By day four he had to give in and eat, or he risked worse injuries.
It had been a distasteful ordeal up until he had found the wolf pack during his first full moon as a crow. Night had fallen, and as he made his way through the thick trunks on unsteady talons, he had heard the first howl. For a second, he had almost considered leaving. Retaining this half-human form was still something he struggled with and he wished to enjoy the little time he had before he once again had to return to his feathery prison.
But the call of the wolves ensnared him, and he had to find them.
Except none of them were normal wolves, as he found out once morning came.
From what he has observed in the last month, most members of the pack preferred to stick to their wolf forms as much as they could. Occasionally, one or two of them would venture into the closest town for certain necessities but that was about it.
It was weird.
It was also fascinating.
They didn't seem to mind his prolonged stay, in fact, it almost looked like they welcomed him among their midst without so much as a second thought. He didn't question it, just enjoyed it for the time being although he always made sure he only shifted into his halfling form where the wolves wouldn't find him.
At least, that had been the plan.
But now, staring into the ice-blue eyes of the blonde wolf he had started thinking as his wolf, he realizes that he overlooked one tiny but very important detail.
Wolves tended to have a keen sense of smell.
Well, shit.
Silence pervades the small nook between the trees he had taken as his hiding spot away from the pack, as he simply stares back at the wolf. Waiting for something, maybe a shift, a lunge. Anything.
Except a whole minute passes with nothing happening, and Steve is starting to feel foolish.
"So is this the part where you try and eat me? Or warn me to stay away from the pack?" He chances, hoping for a reaction.
The wolf cocks its head to the side, blue eyes looking almost mocking before there's a ripple and a human is crouching in its place. A very blond, very handsome, human with ice blue eyes. Who's also kind of naked.
Huh.
"The fact that you think nobody knew what you were as soon as you hopped into the clearing that night is telling." At Steve's confused look, the wolf (the man?) chuckles. Guess he was right about the mocking part. "You reek of magic, little bird. Magic and human flesh."
"Well, how was I supposed to know?" He snaps, the small feathers that cover his neck fluffing up.
"Common sense?" There's a smirk this time, along with a flash of fangs. "Did your mother not teach you about magical signatures once you came out of the egg?"
"I- ah" He falters, unsure if he should explain that he wasn't born like this but rather turned into this. He runs a talon through the feathers that have replaced his hair before sighing. "I'm a human, actually. Just got cursed to look like this."
The man-wolf hums, giving him an appraising look. "That explains a few things."
Steve scoffs, ready to stand up and leave this guy alone to go bother somebody else when suddenly he feels a heavyweight drop onto his lap. When he looks down, he's met with a pair of ice-blue eyes looking back at him.
He wonders, not for the first time, why he picked this particular wolf to stick close to out of all the others.
"Does the little birdy have a name?" That smirk is back again and it almost makes him blush. Makes him glad that his whole skin is now covered in black fluffy feathers.
"If I tell you, will you stop calling me that?"
"Nope. But I might give you my name too."
It sounds like a fair deal at least. And that way he could stop calling him man-wolf in his head.
"Steve."
"Steve. Hm. Not quite what I expected." It's been so long since the last time someone said his name, it feels weird hearing it now from someone that is not himself. "Mine's Billy, by the way."
"And what did you expect, Billy?" The name feels foreign on his tongue but he figures time will make it easier. After all, it's not like he ever can return to Hawksmond unless whatever conditions the witch placed upon the curse are met.
Billy shrugs, stretching languidly across Steve's lap in all his naked glory. Something that Steve's doing his best to steadfastly ignore. "Some fancy bullshit like Stefano or Guillermino."
He snorts at that, covering his mouth with a clawed talon. "Why would you even think that?"
"You look the part, little birdy."
#CherryLaneChallenge#steve harrington#barbara holland#tommy hagan#billy hargrove#harringrove#fantasy au#i have no idea what this is but enjoy#shotout to my friend who helped me with the curse bit#you're a lifesaver vani <3#werewolf!billy hargrove#crow!steve harrington
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yeaaaaahhhhh, piety points……(what are piety points?)
Piety Points are the Game's way of measuring how devoted a humanoid is to their Deity, (and how much power the Deity and their temples give them in return,) completely independent of player Class or Race!
Peity Points are basically the God-and-Follower version of Bonds, measuring both the follower's personal devotion to their Deity and the Deity's approval of that follower's actions.
(Remember, since Bond numbers must be reciprocated, someone who follows a Deity's principles by nature but doesn't really venerate them will not have a bond/piety points, and neither will someone who adores a Deity but doesn't actually follow their rules. For example: Someone who worships Lathander but twists his teachings, and uses them as a justification to hurt innocent people? Lathander does not approve of that, so that person probably doesn't have Piety Points.)
You can have any number of Points, which are Earned and Lost based on criteria set by the Deity. They are very difficult to earn, meaning that a Player must do many great deeds in the name of their Deity to collect them! These Great Deeds can be personal or interpersonal; saving a town from imminent demise will obviously earn you some points, but so will overcoming personal weaknesses that are important to you.
There are five Ranks of Piety, which determine how much power you get from your deity and how well-known you are in your temple.
For a neat breakdown, let's look at Amaryllis and Sune:
~
As decreed by the Goddess of Love and Beauty, you can Earn Piety Points from Sune by:
Awakening love in others, or Inspiring them with your beauty
Embracing the throes of passion wherever they take you
Preforming loving acts, and responding to love from others
Taking decisive action on impulse
Acquiring beautiful items, and protecting the people that make them
And, likewise, you can Lose Piety Points from Sune by:
Hiding away or disregarding your own beauty
Betraying a loved one in any way
Denying the gifts of love to yourself or another
Putting outward appearance over inner beauty
Destroying beautiful things, actively or through inaction
Rank 1: Faithful (1-2 Piety Points)
Those who believe on a basic level are the most fundamental and common followers to a deity. However, there are those that stand above the crowds, those whose belief is unquestionable and unquestioned; They are the Faithful!
Becoming a faithful grants you access to the most basic of the inner workings of the Church. You are able to request and receive personal aid from the church (like food, shelter, minor healing, etc), and you can perform ceremonies as well as bless certain actions in the name of your god.
Sune's Faithful are known as Suneites.
Rank 2: Devoted (3-9 Piety Points)
You have proven that your belief is not simply faith in the god, but true and honest Devotion! Your superiors have come to value and rely on your service. It’s a heavy burden to bear, but you do it gladly, and succeed where others have failed. Your god recognizes your service with a gift!
As a devotee of Sune, your incredible beauty has garnered her attention and adoration. You can cast Ceremony with this trait, requiring no material components, a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier (minimum of once). You regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for this spell.
Rank 3: Votary (10-24 Piety Points)
Each person that achieves the rank of Votary has proven to be staunch and unwavering bastion of faith, devotion and service, both to the church and to the community that it serves. These characters have at their service a portion of the might of the Church, and can call on the assistance of the church for minor needs. A Pious character gains a title and rank within the Church, and is given the ability to command a small number of soldiers of the faith, or to requisition a number of scribes and clerics of the faith for research, transcription and other menial tasks. Sune's Votaries are known as a Sibling/Sister/Brother of the Ruby Rose.
Sune's love glows warmly in your heart! With this trait, you can cast Beakon of Hope. Once you cast the spell in this way, you can’t do so again until you finish a long rest. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for this spell.
In addition, you have advantage on saving throws against being charmed.
Rank 4: Disciple (25-49 Piety Points)
You have made a thunderous name for yourself among the church elders and much of the general populace throughout the land, with renown going far beyond your own temple. You have moved up in the ranks of the church, and are awarded with titles, lands and followers of your own! You are recognized as one of the leaders of your faith, and given great leeway with what you do, as it is assumed you are always doing the gods will.
Sune's Disciples are known as Heartwarders, usually being the most handsome/beautiful clergy member both inside and out! They were expected to keep their appearance as flattering as possible to their own tastes, and shower others with sweet words at least five times a month. They often worked as matchmakers, etiquette instructors, artists, or teachers in a myriad of creative disciplines, such as visual arts, dance and performance art, vocal and instrumental music, personal beautification, and social etiquette.
You have grown more than accustomed to the blazing fires of obsession; You can cast Flame Strike with this trait, requiring no material components. Once you cast the spell in this way, you can’t do so again until you finish a long rest. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for this spell.
Rank 5: Champion (50+ Piety Points)
At this point in time, you have become a walking embodiment of the gods will on earth. Though you may not desire it, you have been gifted a grand title and immense pull with the faithful the world over. Your legend grows with every day you live and each story told about you blows your possible deeds out of proportion, crediting you with everything from the sunrise to the death of kings and enemies of the religion. You can ask for great services from the church, as the faithful flock to your command. You are the absolute pinnacle of deific influence wielded by a mortal.
At this point a heartwarder became a creature of the fey, along with all their inherent strengths. In addition, You can increase your Charisma or Wisdom score by 2 and also increase your maximum for that score by 2.
(Amy is here! She has 69 Piety Points)
~
...Although there is no official “Piety Rank 6,″ it is believed that you do get more powers from passing even further than 50 points. Some Heartwarders who are particularly favored by Sune have been said to have one or more additional powers:
Through divine grace, heartwarders' tears can be magically changed into the waters of Evergold, aka the Fountain of Youth. This solution was deadly to opponents who were necrotic or infernal in nature. With more experience, Heartwarders could also use their tears to make a love potion valued highly by the faithful.
Through Sune's Caress, Heartwarders could heal others as their own flesh is mended.
Heartwarders could charge their kiss with rapturous power, bringing sensations of safety, adoration, and complete and overwhelming pleasure to any they bestowed it upon. This kiss blessed those it touched, granting them increased resistance against magical effects for a short duration. (A heartwarder's kiss was so potent that it sometimes confused and dazed the recipient as well.)
Heartwarders could also kiss those who were at a distance by means of a unique spell.
Heartwarders could imbue themselves with Siren’s Voice, which helped hone their voice into a sweet and enchanting sound that weakened the will of their enemies, in turn placing them under enchantment.
So great was the love heartwarders had for their fellow allies, that their divine power could absorb some of the harm caused to them. While it reduced the lethality of an attack, it hurt the heartwarder in turn.
Most of the Clergy also believes that Aasimar of Sune are born with all of these powers dormant within themselves, regardless of their rank or level! This has never been concretely proven, with Aasimar being so rare, but the belief persists...
#lets roll#long post#long answer#please tell me if i need to tag anything else!#game mechanics#game lore
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