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ocdeeznut · 3 months

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Commander and his second. (Red and Blue.)

(-A first draft stream of consciousness melancholy fever dream. I have not slept it is 7am.-)

Lance shoulder-checks the door on his late night stumble into the hallway, gasping a yawn into an unfurled hand before elegantly smearing it down his face. Dry skin, tacky eyes, a weakness in his legs. He recalls scraping his alarm clock with his knee, the time reading something completely incomprehensible in Altean. 'Maths is universal' my ass, he muses, puling out his phone and blinking at it headily as he walks. 3:30. Ouch. They're up at 6 for group training, now that Keith is parking his ass in the castle for longer than 60 seconds at a time. He snorts to himself, and briefly wonders if tired-piloting is the same as tired-driving, and if it could land him a fine. He debates slipping down to the hangar, just to sit with bl- red. Red. Right. He's the red paladin now. The right hand. Keith's right hand. He looks down at his phone again, nearly buffing the wall as he rounds a corner, hankering after a good cup of coffee.

What a load of bullshit-

THUNK.

His phone hits the ground before he does, sprawled out atop his own limbs like a baby giraffe in space. And there, towering above him - like he always is - Keith Kogane. Still in his Blade's issued uniform, he reeks of stale blood and B.O. Those dark eyes have the nerve to look pitifully down on his second as he extends a hand. Lance, in what he thinks is appropriate cool-and-smooth fashion, slaps it away, awkwardly cobbling himself back to his feet.

"Keith. Wasn't expecting to see you up this late." Red comments, curtly. "Ditto." The black paladin crows. His voice is creaky, thick with exhaustion. Now that Lance gets a good look at him, he's... lacking fight. Haggard and pale, new cuts and bruises glanced across the scarce amount of skin Lance can see. The red paladin wonders briefly just how many scars Keith is hiding from him, under that sleek black leather. "What time is it?" "Like 3:30-something, last I checked." ".. Fuck." "Don't say 'fuck' Keith, it's crass."

"Fuck, sorry." He is not, arms over his chest, fingers curled against his biceps.

Touché.

"We're up in a few hours, so uh. Get some rest." Keith samples leadership.

"If that was gonna happen, dude, I would not be stood here with you in this dark, dark hallway." Lance spits it back out.

"Right, no. Of course. Do what you have to, and don't be late tomorrow." "Today." Red helpfully supplies. "You're uh, dismissed..?" The subject of said dismissal gawks. "You can't dismiss me from a -hallway- in the ship I sleep in, this isn't a board meeting." Lance grimaces, and steers himself back onto course - the main kitchen. He was getting coffee, Keith or no Keith. Quiet footsteps fall behind him, and then louder ones as the black paladin remembers he doesn't have to hide his presence in the castle. What a strange person he'd become. Their fearless leader, living a life of concealment and solitude. How lonely that must be. He shakes away the sympathy before it makes a home inside him.

The bright lights of the kitchen hurt his eyes, and Lance bemoans such to himself, making every effort to keep his griping from Keith's prying ears. They'd made the tactical discovery recently that the man's hearing was almost twice as effective in range and clarity as the average human's.

Which would be sick, if it wasn't Keith.

But he hears him, like he always does, and stalks off to fix the problem in that begrudging, duty-bound manner that's supposed to make him seem long suffering and martyred. He scans something against the indent below the light fixture, and smacks away at an airborne keypad for a few seconds. The atmosphere around them shifts to an admittedly much more tolerable dim yellow. Lance grumbles his thanks, and Keith just nods his head sluggishly, dead on his feet. "Why don't you take your own advice, hm? Go to bed. We need the black lion operational tomorrow. That can't happen if you're passed out until noon."

"Don't tell me what to do." "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so pig-headed. You're still in uniform, man. You reek." Keith actually has the decency to sniff himself, and Lance bites down on a laugh as he recoils from his own underarm. "Message received. But I'm not tired." "Bullcrap. You look exhausted."

"I am."

And Lance understands what he means. Hell, he's feeling it too. There's this odd collision of interest now, and he goes about making his coffee in silence, with dark eyes watching him from the corner.

He pulls open a stiff drawer at hip-height, crouching down to reach inside for his stash of dark roast coffee - sourced from a space-mall excursion a few months ago. He keeps it sealed in an airtight container, in a paper bag, in the back of the most neutral temp cupboard on deck. It's not great stuff, some cheap American bastardisation of actual dark roast, but it'll do.

"If you're going to stay, please stop staring at me." He pokes his head up and hauls himself back to his feet. Where was that sugar again..-

"Alright."

It's in Keith's hands, apparently.

"How did you-" "Café cubano. You think you're good at hiding the coffee, but it smells strong. I sometimes follow the smell into the kitchen. From there, the awful mess you leave behind makes it pretty easy to guess what you were making. Who takes an espresso pot into space?" "Not me. I had Hunk and Pidge make it for me. It's a lot more advanced than I need it to be. It actually lowers the boiling point of the water, without blanching the coffee's flavour. Might be why the smell is so strong, though."

Lance chooses to rise above the slight on his cleanliness.

"Huh. Go Hunk and Pidge."

"Seriously. Genius freaks, the both of them."

Red smiles.

Lance sets his whisk down, and pours off the dark coffee from the jug in his left hand, sending azuquita frothing and bubbling to the top of the pot. It floats, sweet and bitter, as he transfers it to an oddly shaped Altean mug, and takes a sip. It's boiling, and it burns, but it's good.

Just like Keith had described, there are spoons and whisks and bowls and dustings of sugar and coffee grounds strewn across the tabletop, and the Red paladin flusters as Black swoops in to clean. Something about this felt entirely too personal, domestic. Like they weren't fighting a war. Like they weren't fighting eachother. He scoops up his mug, and turns heel. "I'm going to the bridge."

Keith is silent except for a hum of acknowledgement.

Loud footsteps approach him again, hunched over himself, hair fluttering from his eyes with each heavy breath. His coffee still half-drank, to be savoured. He preferred to finish his drinks in company, but it wasn't like he'd been expecting Keith to follow him.

So why he isn't at all surprised when Keith slumps down beside him is anyone's guess.

The stars are, well, about as starry as usual. The air is a comfortable degree and the floor hums quietly as the belly of the metal beast around them croaks and groans, driving them through empty space.

Keith is looking at him, and the mess of his hair, those dark, impossibly bright eyes... it all feels so Keith. He smells a little better, and he's back in his usual t-shirt and jeans, jacket forgone for informality's sake. For just a moment, Lance can pretend it'll be Shiro waking them both up tomorrow. As equals, tired and late to dash into the hangar. Keeping score, neck and neck.

"Your coffee's gonna go cold." Keith snips at the silence.

"Oh, so what I'm hearing is that you wanna make the trek back to the kitchen to reheat it for me?" "Shut up.. You wouldn't drink it even if I did." "You're probably right, Mullet."

Lance pauses for a moment.

"Why'd you come down here?" "Why haven't you told me to fuck off yet?" "Not sure." "Ditto." Touché. Again. Conversation starts to feel a little easier now.

"Fuck man. This is so bad. We're in for it tomorrow. We quite literally will not have our head screwed on straight." Lance laughs at his own joke, swiping a hand through his hair and leaning back on an open palm.

Keith laughs too, rolling his eyes up into those remarkable bangs.

"Not to mention we'll be keeping the rest of the team at -arm's length-'."

Keith's turn to laugh at his own joke, while lance digs his fist into the other man's shoulder. "Boo! That was lame. You're lame, Kogane. Lame Kogane is what I'm calling you now." "How will I ever recover." "Try and sound a little hurt."

They're both laughing now. "No- no, really, I'm slighted." "You sound like you're reading the fucking weather forecast!" "You said fuck!" "Fuck off!" "Hah! Said it again."

And there it is. The film that keeps them bound by duty is broken, and they come undone into something far deeper than 1st and 2nd.

Blue bites and red bites back harder, but they never break the skin.

They're on their feet now, dancing around the deck under the intimate gaze of a hundred-thousand burning stars. Surrounded by life, yet completely and totally alone.

"I'm not drinking that-! Lance, I'm serious- Lance!" Red warns, hands extended to keep Blue at arm's length. (He'd appreciate the call-back.) But Lance, brandishing cold coffee and an impish grin, is quicker, and likes to watch the impenetrable fortress that is Keith Kogane crumble. He vaults the central control panel, to Keith's shrieking horror, and manages to dump half the remaining cup down the back of the other's shirt. It elicits another delightful shrill from Red, as he wrestles with his own skin in an attempt to flee the sensation. Lance swears that for a moment, there's something glinting yellow in Keith's eyes. He bares his teeth and grunts in a way that is decidedly inhuman.

It should scare him, but it only excites him, fills his blood with ice-hot curiosity, intrigue that borders on an inescapable infatuation. SO much about Keith that he didn't know. So much that he wanted to find out.

"Sorry!"

He wanes, half-heartedly, still in fits of laughter as Kogane manages to wrest his shirt off, wearing a flimsy navy tank underneath. He'd have preferred red, but space makes fashion a slim-pickings ordeal. Lance finds it brings out his eyes.

Somewhere along the way, they ended up like this. Lance shifts his arm from where it's pinned under Keith's head to check the hour. 5:30. They're running out of time. Red and Blue will be packaged up neatly again, and in thirty minutes Black and Red will take the helm and shoulder of a beast they have no business knowing how to fly.

Lance aches, body and mind. They're sprawled out in Allura's holodeck, heads side by side as they stare up at a night sky so very different to the ones they see from the castle. It's earth, just a few miles south of the Garrison. A cliffside overlooks the desert, and Blue can almost feel the dust under his fingers, sweeping through Keith's hair as it ruffles against his cheekbones.

Blue pulls red just a little bit closer.

Just twenty minutes more.

Neither of them are ready to lead.

Chiselled soldiers made of hollow glass. Lacking experience, robbed of simple youth.

They are driven by duty. It pumps their lungs like great bellows, keeps their legs moving when their hearts have stopped.

Ten more minutes.

Lance feels his eyes slip shut, damp and tired. He curls into red and lets himself dream for a few minutes more.

#vld lance #voltron #odesrambles #keith voltron #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #klance

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vendettamuses · 1 year

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@maximuses SAID: 🔮 -> for Bailey and Ruby!

⚔️ Tarot Readings // ACCEPTING ⚔️

TWO OF WANDS REVERSED

The Unicorn stands indecisive upon the bridge between her comfortable forests and the wider unknown world, each direction represented by blossoming saplings. The sapling to her left, where adventure awaits, grows a bit higher and taller than the other - indicating a stronger potential for growth. The intensity of the full and bright moon illuminates everything in the vicinity, encouraging the Unicorn to trust her intuition. It is clear she is torn, her gaze turned back towards all that she has ever known and loved. She is faced with a decision - to find the others, if she is brave, or to return home.

Should you find yourself hesitant to leave what you are comfortable with, or if indecision has you paralyzed, it would be prudent to re-examine your desires and ambitions to find the correct path forward. Some adjustments may be simple in nature, while others might require you to retrace your footsteps. When you consider the why of what you are doing, you will be reminded of the benefits of pushing yourself to new heights, and the correct choice will become clear.

FIVE OF COINS

A worried Lady Amalthea watches the stormy seas that mirror her own inner discomfort. Cold stone walls press in on her from all sides, forcing her into isolation. A clock looms oppressively behind the maiden, but she has her back turned to it, unaware that it could be the answer to her problems. Instead, she feels immensely pressured for time as she becomes more mortal and forgetful by the minute. Will the price she has paid be worth it?

Something very dear to you has been stolen away; your health, your wealth, your faith, or even your sense of self. It appears that there is no one you can turn to, which only amplifies the loss you have already endured. Your focus on the negative has blinded you to the positive. Swallow your pride in order to reach out to those that could help you; they are not aware of your suffering. Appreciate the good things you have in your life, rather than lamenting what you lack.

SIX OF COINS

The Cat drapes himself across Molly Grue's shoulders in a gesture of camaraderie. He has information that Molly Grue will find most valuable and, in return, the scullery maid offers food and companionship to the feline. Molly holds her hands out, palms up, balancing the equally weighted coins that float on either side of her. The Cat's paw tips one side further, demonstrating that his coveted knowledge tips the scale in his favor at this time. Their relationship is symbiotic. If he is generous now, he will be rewarded in time when he is rescued from the broken remnants of King Haggard's castle.

Generosity can be expressed in a multitude of ways, and whether you are donating to charity or volunteering your time and energy to aid others, you know that you will eventually reap what you sow. If you are on the receiving end, show gratitude to those supporting you and look for a way to repay them when possible. Eventually, the scales will balance. Whether helping someone or yourself, seek out ways that the recipient can become self-sufficient.

INTERPRETATION

The choice to come to the agency as they have was not an easy one. While both Ruby and Bailey are well-acquainted with loss and sacrifice, that did not make the concept of leaving the life they knew before any easier. For Bailey, that meant potentially putting a target on her back by seeking out new, sustainable, and ethical work that would also allow her to make sure her brother is alright. For Ruby, that meant jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire - escaping the cult using her to bring about the end of the world as she know it, and running back to the survivors of her gang who think she abandoned them.

Adjusting to this new situation is difficult and painful for the both of them. Uprooting their lives so suddenly the way they have has left them with deep feeling of frustration and loneliness. After all, they’ve lost everything to be with the people they care about. Their lives have imploded, and they are searching for any sort of comfort or reassurance that they have made the right decision coming to the agency. Little do they know that the greatest comfort they could ever ask for is in each other. They just haven’t realized it yet.

Time will see them together. It’s just a matter of them both realizing that relationships are a give and take. And both are eager to give- just one different ways. For Bailey, that means small gestures or thought like sharing snacks and spending quality time with Ruby. For Ruby, that means acts of service and the occasional chatter over small distractions they can both mutually enjoy. Neither is good with their words. Not in the way they would like to be anyhow. Sometimes one or the other feels like they could do more. But they will eventually find balance once they come to realize and accept that their hearts belong to one another.

#// these are so much fun!#ask : is this what you wanted #mutual : all of my best friends #maximuses #dynamic : i still got a whole lotta love for you #[ bailey hill x ruby bain tbt. ]#( v : damnatio memoriae )

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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3 Witchers Who Made It Home And 1 Who Almost Didn’t

The first to return was always Vesemir. He got back as early as his Path would allow, horse pulling a cart of supplies. The others would bring things to weather the winter too but Vesemir tried to take care of the bulk of it. Kaer Morhen was somewhere that hadn’t been home for a long time, perhaps even the first century of his life. But over time, he’d grown fond of it. While everything else in the world changed, turned its back on him, the crumbling old castle always welcomed Vesemir back. The doors groaned their greeting, sheets sighed as he pulled them off beds. In its own way, Kaer Morhen came back to life under Vesemir’s gentle care so by the time his pups stumbled in, they would be comfortable and could fall into the routine of winter without having to worry about much. That was Vesemir’s job, he always worried about his pups though he rarely ever showed it.

Uncharacteristically, Geralt showed up next. Usually he slunk in last, quiet and avoiding any kind of attention. He really was the epitome of lone wolf. Which was why Vesemir needed a moment to gather his wits and greet the bard Geralt had dragged him with him. The path to Kaer Morhen was dangerous and Geralt had wanted to avoid the snow that would have made it more trecherous for a human. So they were there earlier than usual, Roach pulling a cart of ample supplies. If both Lambert and Eskel showed up with very little, they would still have a very well stocked winter.

A few weeks later, the snow was gathering around the old keep and Lambert arrived. He had a pack piled high on his back but no horse. For whatever reason, he’d always been resistant to getting a steed, something that he was mercilessly teased for in his early years. By the time he hit 60, most of that had stopped thankfully. It wasn’t Vesemir’s secret to share that Lambert was utterly terrified of horses. They’d tried to secretly work through it but some fears, irrational as they may be, just never went away. The only thing Vesemir could do was make sure Lambert never had chores in the stables and glared at the other two whenever they started ribbing about horses.

The storms arrived next, blustery and cold. It made the pass impossible to traverse and Vesemir sighed. While winter had come early, he had been hoping Eskel would make it back home. It was rare to have a year without him. But with how visibility was barely a hand’s reach, it was impossible for even a witcher to survive the trail to Kaer Morhen.

“What’s that noise?” Jaskier asked. He wasn’t quite used to the noises of the old castle as it creaked and groaned under the assault of the storm. Dinner had been a quiet affair, all of the witchers quietly glad they’d made it back home, even if one of their core family was missing. Eskel’s regular seat remained unfilled even though it left an awkward gap in their seating arrangement.

Before his question could be dismissed as the howling of the storm, Lambert tilted his head to the side, listening, eyes going distant as he focused. The next moment he was pushing away from the table with a half shout of “Eskel!” which had the others lurching into action.

It was dark already, a cast of igni to torches lit the way to the front of the keep. As the approached, there was no denying that something was very wrong. The whinnying of a spooked horse mixed with the thumping as it ran loops of the area in front of the keep’s door filtered through. Lambert was dashing out into the snowstorm without hesitation, squinting into the thickly falling snow. The job of stopping Scorpion fell to Geralt and he managed to grab the loose reins, pulling the horse tight and soothing it.

“Eskel!” Lambert’s voice was whipped away by the wind. There was no sign of Eskel though, his horse still had the cart attached, most of the supplies were battened down and safe. “I’m going out to find him.”

“You won’t survive the night,” Vesemir shouted over the storm.

“Neither will he!” Lambert looked frantic, trying to see beyond the storm.

“Losing one son is bad enough, I don’t want to lose two.” It wasn’t often Vesemir snapped and it pulled Lambert up short.

“Fine.” He snarled and, after a final attempt to look around and listening in case Eskel called back to him, he stalked back into the castle. “But I’m going out for him at first light.”

Nobody slept well that night. The storm raged outside and all they could think of was Eskel out there, on his own. There was no telling what had happened, what had spooked Scorpion or what they’d find in the light of the morning. Unable to sleep, Jaskier stumbled down to the kitchen for a drink. He walked past Lambert who was sleeping fitfully by the dying embers of the hall’s fires, obviously wanting to make good on his promise to go out at first light. Out of curiosity, Jaskier opened the front door and peered out, just in case he saw something. It was still too dark to venture far out but it was no longer pitch black. Not too far from the door, maybe a handful of meters away was a lump on the ground which most definitely hadn’t been there the night before.

“Lambert! Geralt! Help!” Jaskier was yelling even as he ran out into the snow barefoot. There was no mistaking the snow covered mound for anything but the crumpled form of Eskel.

Skidding to his knees next to him, Jaskier reached for Eskel, shoved hard to turn him onto his side and then to his back. In a way, he wished he hadn’t because the problems were almost immediately visible. There were torn and soaked bandages wrapped sloppily around Eskel’s chest and stomach, soaked through with blood. His gambeson was in tatters.

Someone was pushing Jaskier out of the way and it took him a moment to realise it was Lambert. Leaning over Eskel, taking in blue lips and barely visible puffs of shallow breaths, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that there wasn’t any time to waste. Strong arms hoisted Eskel off the ground and Lambert was barging back into the castle, hollering for Vesemir at the top of his lungs.

A warm hand on Jaskier’s shoulder drew him from his reverie. By his knees, the snow was red with blood and he could see a trail where Eskel had obviously dragged himself. He’d been so close and yet had almost not made it despite his efforts.

“Let’s get you warm,” Geralt murmured and helped Jaskier up.

Settling on the rugs by the fire, Jaskier watched as Geralt stoked the flames and brought mulled wine over. They didn’t say anything, not for a few hours but they leaned into each other. Geralt was hoping he wasn’t going to lose his brother while Jaskier realised he didn’t want to mourn a friend he had not yet met.

It was Vesemir who came out, hours later, drawn and haggard. He was still in his sleep shirt but there hadn’t been time to get changed, not when Eskel had been in such critical condition.

“He’ll live.” That was the best news he could have ever delivered and both Geralt and Jaskier sagged. “Lambert’s keeping him warm for now. But I think Eskel would appreciate waking in a warm pile.”

That was all the encouragement needed and Geralt was off, pulling Jaskier with him. In the infirmary, Lambert was curled against Eskel under some covers, the fire roaring warmly. Without a word, Geralt slipped under the covers too, mindful of the freshly applied bandages. Under the scent of cleansing poultices there was the rotten stench of infection but it was clearing. He dreaded to think what had happened to Eskel and why he had braved the trail to Kaer Morhen when injured and snowing. Though, deep down, Geralt already knew because he would have done the same. Hurting and desperate, he too would have wanted to get home, no matter the risk. Turning, he pulled Jaskier into the pile, content to once again have his family surrounding him.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #tldr: 3 witchers make it home and one get injured along the way

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narniaandplowmen · 3 years

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The Wild Abandoned

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Also on AO3

6773 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply

Complete

When he arrived back at the foot of the mountain, Geralt most decisively went in the complete opposite direction of Jaskier’s smell. He didn’t hear the animal following him at a safe distance.

* * *

Jaskier didn’t necessarily plan on following Geralt. They just happened to be travelling in the same direction, that was all.

CHAPTER 1 - The Wild Abandoned

Animals following him wasn’t that unusual, all things considered. Most creatures were curious about this strange, not-quite-human being travelling through their territory, but even when Geralt fed them the scraps of his own meal none of them had followed him for - Geralt narrowed his eyes and mentally tallied. For five days, at least. Of which Geralt spent only three asleep, deciding to hurry his travels as his coin ran out. He had heard rumours of Posada looking for a Witcher, and - although he hated himself for it - he hoped none had shown up yet. He did not have to check his purse to know there was only one coin left in it, nor did he need to check his supplies to know they were dwindling. Geralt sighed as he heard the creature following him speed up to catch up with the chestnut mare. Whatever it was, it would be scared away as soon as he arrived in Posada. If there was any lesson Geralt had learned over and over and over again during his time on the Path, it was to never get attached.

In Posada, he met a bard named Jaskier, and his life changed.

Two decades later, on a mountain, half the continent over, his life changed again.

When he arrived back at the foot of the mountain, Geralt most decisively went in the complete opposite direction of Jaskier’s smell.

He knew the smell of humans lingered, but five days, an equal amount of baths in the Gwenllech and three un- and repackings of his supplies later, Geralt could still faintly smell the bard’s distinctive, pinewood, autumn leaves and wolve’s fur smell, although the flowery perfume he usually masked it with was gone.

Geralt tried to blame his surroundings for creating the smell, but he knew there were no pine trees to be found for at least a hundred miles.

It was still the middle of summer as well.

He didn’t hear the animal following him at a safe distance.

* * *

He knew it was still too early to arrive in Kaer Morhen, so although this far North wasn’t his usual territory, he took whichever jobs he could get. The benefit of breaking out of his usual stomping grounds was, aside from the fact that the ‘Butcher of Blaviken’-legend was not tied to his name, that Jaskier’s joyful catchy kind annoying songs hadn’t reached the area either. A group of drowners, two frighteners, a wreight and a cockatrice later, he could almost forget what happened on the mountain.

Almost.

It wasn’t till the beginning of October, after the wreight but before the second frightener, that Geralt noticed he was being followed. The animal seemingly attempted not to get noticed, timing his footsteps at the exact rhythm of the latest Roach, a horse with a surprisingly consistent walk. Geralt did not know how long it had been following him, but that night he purposefully didn’t finish the rabbit he had hunted and roasted, throwing the bones with plenty of meat in the bushes behind him, in the general direction of the sound of softly padded paws touching the forest floor.

The next day, the bones and meat were still there.

The sound, however, was gone.

He tried not to let the overwhelming silence bother him.

Three days later, Geralt was almost convinced his offer had scared the creature away. Either that, or the pouring rain had caused the animal to give up on his curious pursuit, and find shelter somewhere in the cavernous mountains. The resulting floods paid Geralt’s next meal and shelter as he took care of the drowners plaguing one of the small Northern villages. They pay had been small, but the citizens thanked him for arriving so quickly. For a moment he feared that the villagers would burst into an all-too-familiar song, but instead they told him a neighbouring place needed his help as well.

After fighting the second freightner, the now-familiar sound of the animal’s steps returned. So did the rains, and Geralt decided to cut this season short and turn his meandering route into a direct journey to Kaer Morhen, the closest thing to a home he knew, except for- No. The closest thing to a home he knew. Geralt stared at the deer-made path ahead of him and banned all thoughts from a certain bard out of his head.

* * *

The creature, whatever it was, kept following him. If his medallion hadn’t stayed silent, Geralt would almost be worried. It was far away from its own territory now that the towering, deciduous-treed and cavernous Dragon Mountains had been replaced by the equally towering but pine-treed, steep-cliffed Blue Mountains. The creature hadn’t accepted a single offer of food, or shelter, or warmth. Not even when Geralt, silently cursing his own idiocy, had called out into the forest that the food thrown away was intended for this mysterious pursuer.

Geralt almost considered travelling the long way so he would pass through the planes, simply to see if the creature would follow, would allow himself to be seen, but that morning he woke up covered in a thin layer of snow.

He saddled Roach, saw his latest offering of food was once again ignored, and hastened his journey towards Kaer Morhen.

The creature followed, even during the treacherous journey towards the Witchers’ Castle.

Geralt almost resented the idea of wintering inside, since the creature would surely leave before spring.

‘You can’t follow me inside, you know. A castle isn’t fit for wild animals to thrive,’ Geralt had called into the dark two nights before arriving home. ‘You should go back. To your territory. To your family, if you have one. And if not, I am sure that you will be able to start one, if you are strong enough to follow me this far.’

His reply, as usual, had been silence.

The next day, the creature followed still.

* * *

‘Geralt! You’re uncharacteristically early,’ Vesemir greeted him at the gate.

‘Stayed North this time. I- I was already on my way back, simply hurried my way when the snow started.’

‘You were on your way back? Did that bard of yours finally take that teaching position Oxenfurt has been begging him to accept?’

Geralt placed his bags on the stable floor a little more violently than needed.

‘He’s not my bard. And I don’t care what he is doing right now. It’s not my concern.’

That evening, after a bath in the hot springs and a nice bowl of soup eaten next to the safety and warmth of the fire, the entire story came out, and Vesimir’s heart bled for his young pup.

* * *

Geralt didn’t mention the strange creature that had been following him until Eskel arrived two weeks later, mentioning that he had been followed for the last days of his journey home.

He wasn’t jealous at all when Lambert, arriving five days later, reported he had seen a wolf-like creature from a distance. Nor did he find an excuse to leave the dinner table to train his frustration away when Lambert said he had even fed the creature, for it looked haggard and ragged.

* * *

They didn’t speak of the creature till mid-December, when the three men went out into the snowy wilderness to hunt for fresh meat.

The creature was still there, following them from a distance.

‘If that thing ate every living thing on the mountain, we might not catch any prey at all,’ Eskel wondered aloud after two hours of fruitless searching.

‘Well, it clearly didn’t eat every living thing on this mountain,’ Lambert replied, to a frowning Eskel.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, we’re still here.’

‘I would barely call you ‘living’,’ Eskel retorted, steadying his stance just in time for Lambert to pounce on him.

‘Shh guys!’ Geralt hissed, focussing on a sudden burst of sound in the forest. A running predator, a fleeing prey, breaking branches, noises rapidly going louder until CRACK a frightened deer broke through a frozen bush, leaping over Eskel, a panicked cry as the Witcher grabbed her leg and pulled her down.

‘It does feel pretty unfair,’ Lambert mused as they dragged the carcass back to the castle. ‘This isn’t our prey, we stole it from that wolf. Should we, like, leave a part of it as some sort of thanks?’

Geralt ignored his two brothers but did hold out his bloodied sword when they decided to leave a part of the animal behind.

The next morning, the Witchers were woken up by a loud howl. When Geralt looked outside, he saw a bloody trail leading from the forest to the castle gate, where their offering was returned. ‘Looks like we didn’t steal its prey after all.’

* * *

The knowledge that, outside of the thick, stone walls, there was some creature looking out for them, made it a strange winter. From the brief glances in the dark evening, they had concluded it must be a wolf, but no reasoning for its seeming loyalty could be found. There was no magic, no curses or spells, no laws of surprise offered to pregnant wolves that could explain the presence of the animal. It didn’t seem to want shelter, and offered food was only touched occasionally. Any attempts at luring it out of the forest failed, as the wolf seemed to know when they were watching.

Geralt didn’t attack his brothers more aggressively during their training when the only consistency they could find was that the wolf didn’t seem to want to accept anything from Geralt, nor show itself when Geralt was nearby.

He also didn’t resent Vesemir when he told them one morning that he had seen the wolf prowling around the castle, and that when he had spoken to it, it had sat down and listened, its head slightly tilted and bright blue eyes surprisingly intelligent.

And that spring, when he travelled south and heard the creature following him, he most certainly didn’t feel relieved.

That was, not after he heard the news that the famous bard Jaskier had gone missing, hadn’t been seen in almost a year. Rumours were that the last time he was spotted, was in the presence of a certain white-haired witcher.

His arrival in larger cities was met with thrown rocks and angry insults.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be called a butcher and a murderer.

It was yet another reminder never to get attached.

The first coherent thought in Jaskier’s mind as he carefully made his way down the mountain was his internal surprise that he wasn’t crying. In all the songs of heartbreak and rejection, there were tears, heartbroken cries of anguish and dramatic falling to the knees. But the reality was that Jaskier was empty. Completely and utterly empty. For once he was devoid of words, devoid of song, devoid of poetic descriptions, laughs, chatter, of everything that made him the apparently so burdensome travel companion as he was.

The second coherent thought in Jaskier’s mind as he gathered his stuff from the inn and made his way into the forest was that he was lucky he never showed his more useful side to the Witcher. If he had, his broken heart would now most likely be literally torn to pieces. Geralt didn’t kill monsters, only if they hurt others.

And isn’t that what he did?

* * *

It took him half a day to find a body of water large and still enough to reflect his entire length. On the edge of the cave’s pool, lit by a hole in the ceiling letting in the midday sunlight, he started taking out his belongings, dividing them into three neat piles of ‘keep’, ‘toss’ and ‘hide’. The cavern itself gave ample opportunity for ‘hide’, and whatever he deemed unworthy of keeping was tossed in the ice-cold water. Whilst he waited for the stillness of the water to return, he methodically packed the rest of his belongings, taking in each item with precision.

A spider building his web in the opening between the light bright world of the insects and the darkness of the cave the eight-legged creature preferred, looked down at the strange man below him. He seemed to stare into the water for an eternity, before the form shifted, turned, and ran.

* * *

He didn’t necessarily plan on following Geralt. They just happened to be travelling in the same direction, that was all. Sure, there were quicker ways to reach the undiscovered regions north of Haakland, but those weren’t safe. Passing through planes and cities in this shape would certainly cause his end.

Jaskier told himself that travelling as a human would only slow him down.

He told himself that he couldn’t perform with this emptiness inside.

He knew that was nonsense, he knew he could act, pretend, and nobody would notice.

He followed Geralt anyway.

* * *

It was almost as if the past two decades hadn’t happened. It was almost as if he was still a young wolf, on his way back home after receiving his education, following a mysterious rider smelling of adventure and death and destiny.

Like last time, it took Geralt an embarrassingly long time to notice his presence. Unlike last time, he had gotten quite good at timing his footsteps to match that of Roach’s. And unlike last time, Geralt had thrown meat and bones in his direction.

Jaskier refused to eat. He could take care of himself, without being a burden.

He made sure to take a different route that night, knowing the direction in which Geralt was headed. He was practised with catching up to the Witcher by now, he was almost surprised that he had been able to find the man at all. If he was the cause of all of Geralt’s suffering, you’d think someone with Witcher training would be able to avoid him.

Then again, you’d think someone with Witcher training would know what he was.

* * *

After fighting a lost garkain without Geralt noticing a thing, Jaskier decides to follow the man for the Witcher’s own safety.

He does not allow himself to think about why Geralt is so out of form that he doesn’t notice a garkain following him for a full day, or the fight happening less than fifty miles from his camp. Instead, Jaskier blames the rain for Geralt’s sudden ineptitude.

He rejoins Geralt after he exits the village where he, according to two children playing witcher-and-monster a little too far into the woods, has defeated a freightener. He ignores every offering of food the Witcher throws in his direction. Not even when the man stupidly yells into the forest that the food was meant for him. There are enough squirrels and rabbits to hunt himself.

He never allows the Witcher to see him.

* * *

They are about a two-days journey away from Kaer Morhen when Geralt addresses him again. ‘You can’t follow me inside, you know. A castle isn’t fit for wild animals to thrive. You should go back. To your territory. To your family, if you have one. And if not, I am sure that you will be able to start one, if you are strong enough to follow me this far.’

If Jaskier were human, he’d laugh. ‘What do you think I am doing,’ he thinks instead. ‘Where do you think I am going? My territory is not where you finally noticed me following you. My territory is here, with you.’

It’s that last thought that makes him halt. His territory isn’t the Haakland’s mountains anymore, it isn’t the pack he left behind, nor is it Oxenfurt, nor is it any court he has performed at. His territory for the past twenty years has been Geralt.

But Geralt’s territory has never been him.

He follows Geralt to the top of the mountain and then makes his way down to await the Witcher’s brothers.

* * *

Eskel notices he is being followed after an hour. Lambert after fifteen minutes. As some sort of price, he allows the Witcher to see him, for just a bit.

He graciously accepts the offered food. He stays on the mountain, unable to leave his territory.

He knows it’s pathetic, he knows he should leave, he knows he will easily be able to take up the position as Alpha and lead his family through Haakland and beyond.

He stays near Geralt anyways.

* * *

It is well into December when he hears three pairs of footprints and silent banter echo through the forest he has now gotten to know so well. The Witchers, out for a hunt. He shrugs, listens where they are headed, and turns to run the other side.

He follows them, of course. And when he sees a lost deer that could feed him for the next month to come, he chases it towards them.

He wastes his precious energy that night dragging their pitiful offering back to the castle’s gate. An Alpha takes care of his pack, not the other way around.

He only eats from their offered food thrice. Twice out of politeness, and once because he is desperate. There isn’t much game and the mountain is cold.

* * *

He doesn’t approach the castle when he knows Geralt is watching. He knows the others have seen glances of him, and he secretly wonders if Geralt is frustrated that he is the only one who hasn’t. He wonders if Geralt has even noticed that he is the only one who hasn’t seen him.

In mid-February, during a particularly bright night, Vesemir talks to him. It’s mostly stuff Jaskier already knows: about who and what the Witchers are, about their history, about their home. But it is also things he doesn’t know. Vesemir tells about Lambert’s love for a Witcher from a different school, about Eskel’s insecurities regarding his scars, and finally, right before dawn starts to break, Vesemir tells him about Geralt. About how he most tortured of the children adopted into in Kaer Morhen managed to find joy on the Path in the shape of a brightly-coloured bard, who followed him and cared for him relentlessly for twenty years. About how he could finally let go of the heavy burden of his responsibilities, how he could finally see it as a joy rather than an oppressive fate. About how he realised the mortality of this human bard when he visited a village just as the little boy whose life he once saved was being carried to his grave by his grandchildren. About how all of the Witchers learned to never get attached. About the danger of the wolf being there, for it is clear the inhabitants of the ancient castle are getting attached to his weird loyalty.

That spring, Jaskier follows Geralt on the Path. He is his territory, after all.

Jaskier is too forgiving. When Geralt exits the first big city with wounds and quickly forming bruises, he is once again reminded the rest of the world is not.

#geraskier #geraskier ff #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher ff #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #eskel #vesemir #lambert #written by me #made by me #The wild abandoned

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

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The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 35

Chapter 35: The Blizzard

Scorched needles, scarps of wood blackened by rage, and bits of ash and charcoal scattered across the burnt snow where the proud pine tree once stood. Specks of blood and splinters dropped from the Sorcerer's scraped and roughened fingertips like someone had scattered rubies. His nails were shredded and his cuticles were split from clawing at the bark in a fit of rage. His fury had reduced the aged pine to a pile of ashes. All while, the raven remained still on its perch in the snow, completely unfazed by his master's wrath.

The Sorcerer's growl was dangerous and low before he suddenly screamed and spun around delivering a powerful blow to the young sapling unfortunate enough to be in the path of his wrath.

It made no effort to protests the Sorcerer's rage. Blinded by his rage, all he could see were the images his spy had shown. Images of that disgustingly repulsive beast, not even a beast but a half-beast, dancing with the Occulti, his Occulti. He clenching his fists causing his fingers to scream in pain but he was numb to all but his rage. He could forgive Kai for that. Surely the Dragon was becoming desperate and would use any kindness to trick the youth into saying the words needed to break his curse and deny him his greatest triumph.

He could forgive the youth for his naivety and his defenselessness.

He was merciful, but not after treachery. His wrath erupted, sending the curling shadows at his feet exploding in all directions. They shattered and pierced whatever they came in contact with until the clearing was a hollow circle of scorched earth.

"He's dirty! That damned whore! Damn him for giving away his purity, and damn me for thinking any one of their kind was redeemable!" He screamed and stomped his foot and tore at his hair and clothes until he panted like a beast after a hunt. But no matter how loud he screamed or how much he destroyed, it could never destroy that last scene from his mind. That beautiful boy, who should have been his consort and ruling at his side, wantonly giving his virginity to that monster and enjoying it.

He wanted to scream again, but someone else beat him to it.

"Lloyd! Where are you?!" A woman cried and the weak call was followed by a loud stumble against the carpet of snow. Bewildered, the Sorcerer quickly shielded himself among the trees careful not to let a spot of his red clothing betray his location. He watched a young woman rise stumbling from the muddy earth, and choke loudly on air. Like a shadow, the Sorcerer swooped closer and gasped. It was easy to miss from a distance but beneath the thick winter clock and the leaves and mud matting the sister of his Occulti.

The girl bulldozed through the woods and threw herself forward through the snow.

The action caused her heavy cloak to fall open revealing a shower of black hair, shiny even in the shadows of the winter forest. The girl immediately stumbled and almost fell over, but she was able to remain standing by leaning against a nearby tree. She was clearly sick as a dog and should be going home, but she had to keep going. She tried to scream, but instead choked on her own words and coughed in a way that made even the Sorcerer's skin crawl.

"I have... to find... Lloyd," She wheezed, shoving herself off the tree with surprising strength and half stumbled in her haste. She didn't get far before exhaustion and the brutal cold forced her to her knees. "I have to find them! I have to find Lloyd then we can save Kai! I have to get them back!" She spoke passionately to no one, but it was laced with the madness of grief. Again she shoved herself forward but instead her hands clenched her head and formed fists against her hair.

"I have to protect them! I promised I would! I promised them! Mom and Dad, I promised, and look what I've done! Lloyd's probably dead and I can't even think of what Kai's going through!" She screamed and tore at her hands and clothes with the rage and madness that only grief could drive a sane man to. She slammed her fists against the ground and punched at anything she could. All of a sudden, she was suddenly filled with new determination and charged into the blizzard, not aware she was being watched.

A triumphant smile split the Sorcerer's face.

Perhaps, there was some hope left after all. He smirked cunningly and called his pet. The bird abandoned its statue state and flew to its master's wrist.

"Tell me, my pet is he the one? The one our little Occulti spoke off?" He asked, but even though the bird said nothing a flash of its eyes and the Sorcerer had his answer. "And this 'Lloyd' she searches for, is he the other?" He questioned and again the bird was like a prop, only its glowing eyes gave an indication that it was alive. The Sorcerer snickered to conceal his glee, not wishing to betray his location to the still wandering mage. He spun in delight, thinking this was fantastic. It seemed that the Fates favored him after all.

"Follow her, when you've reached them both, alert me; now go!" He ordered as a grin curled wickedly on his face. The bird was off without another word, vanishing in the darkness while its Master laughed at his fortune. "Oh don't worry, girl, you shall see your little brother again soon!" He cackled like a flock of crows taking to wing and threw his bloody cloak over his shoulder...

****************

It had been two weeks since he ran away from home to find the castle where his beloved brother was being held prisoner by that beast. Two weeks he had been living in the woods surviving only because of the warming weather of the upcoming spring and because years of living a nomadic life had taught him to pack and prepare for the worst of situations. Two weeks since he had begun his search for Kai and he had found nothing. He thought it would be easy, with Spring fast approaching, that is until a blizzard appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

It had caught Lloyd completely off-guard and forced him to stop his search and find shelter.

Lloyd whimpered as he bunched his knees to his chest, shivering but not from the cold. The multiple fires he had started to keep the cave air warm, and the thick clothing he had packed had taken care of that. He covered his mouth to silence the heavy, haggard coughs fighting to escape. Quickly, he unpacked the bag containing a herbal blend and dumped it into the pot of water that had been boiling over the fire. He inhaled a sharp, large breathe and exhaled contently.

Immediately, he felt his throat soothe and his chest became less constricted.

He hadn't needed to use the herbal vapors so much before, but the cold weather wasn't doing his weak chest any good. He knew he would have been fine if he stayed in that warm house at night like a good boy. But how could he when Kai had been missing for almost five months, and the castle where the dragon kept him prisoner seemed to completely vanish? The thought made Lloyd's eyes prick with tears, but he managed not to cry. His fingers trembled, he clenched his arms and knees tighter in an attempt to feel some form of comfort.

But there was none. Nothing he did could replace the warmth and security he felt when he, Nya, and Kai were all together at home.

He knew he couldn't go home. Nya would never let him leave the house again until he was eighty. Lloyd didn't blame her, he ran away after all, but he couldn't keep waiting. He couldn't keep sitting around and doing nothing while his older sister worked and searched diligently for their missing sibling. He had traveled deeper and deeper into the woods. No matter how many times he found himself back at the path where they got lost in the storm, however, he couldn't find any trace of the huge castle.

Had it been sheer dumb luck that Kai found it the first time?

Or that they found it at all? Lloyd shook his head, forcing himself to dry his sleepy eyes. He then sat up with new determination, mentally forcing the tears and shivering down deep. If Kai could find the castle to save him and Nya then he could do the same thing to save Kai. He removed himself from the warmth of his fires and carefully approached the edge of the cave entrance, where he could hear the blizzard howling and blowing. The cold air bit angrily against his lukewarm skin, as if punishing him for daring to defy it.

Over the woods, he could see the setting sun was nothing more than a yellow sliver above the trees and the night had gone a deep grayish purple of twilight that bled into the dark blue and black of night.

Seeing that there was no point in traveling in the dark, Lloyd slid back into the crevice in the rocks and carefully covered it with a thick net of branches to keep out the cold. He had found this cave by sheer accident when he had slipped and fallen into the entrance. Through that, he discovered a fairly large-sized cave, hollowed out of the dirt and lined with rocks like a fox den. Lloyd had decided it would be the perfect place to camp while he explored the woods by day.

That proved to be true when the underground and rocks blocked out much of the night's cold.

The small opening allowed just enough air so that he wouldn't suffocate from the smoke of the fires. Sometimes, when he felt really weak and his medicine wasn't helping. He would have to spend all day curled up in his makeshift tent under the thick blankets he had brought until his shivering stopped and he could move again. Tonight had been one of his rare nights where he had just enough energy to go exploring again, but he regretted it when he had received an unwanted follower.

Lloyd shivered and blew air into his gloved hands, and rubbed them together before returning to the fire.

Outside a loud crunch of the snow made him scream, the sound echoing off the cave walls forcing Lloyd to cover his ears until it faded out.

"LLOYD!" Nya's voice suddenly screeched, coming closer to the cave. Before he could say anything, she pulled away from the cover and started sobbing tears of joy when she saw her little brother huddled in the dark. Lloyd didn't get a chance to react before she suddenly hugged the air out of his lungs. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before a look of rage fell over her face and she started shaking the little boy. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING LLOYD?! I'VE ALREADY LOST KAI, DO YOU THINK I WANT TO LOSE YOU?! WELL, DO YOU?!" She screamed, still sobbing through clenched teeth.

However, her rage suddenly vanished when Lloyd finally released all the tears he had been holding in and started sobbing loudly.

Nya sighed and hugged her little brother again, letting him sob into her shoulder until he eventually tired himself out and fell asleep. As soon as she was sure he was out cold, Nya packed up his things and lifted him up in her arms. Once he was secure and safe, she left the cave and began to head home. However, it only took a few seconds to discover that she couldn't find the trail leading back to the village in this monstrous blizzard. She tried turning around and heading back to the cave.

But her face paled when she realized that the blizzard had covered her footprints in fresh snow.

She was now stranded in the middle of a blizzard in the forest with one brother sick in her arms and the other being held prisoner by a monster...

****************

Kai screamed for his siblings in his sleep as he thrashed around in the bed, only to find himself restrained. His eyes suddenly flew open and he found himself being held in place by Cole, the man's green eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and concern. A cold stab of fear pierced him, completely unaware of where he was. He recognized Cole's room, but the bedsheets were twisted and half flung off. One of Kai's arms raised over his head the other clenched the pillow in a fierce death grip, with Cole holding both his wrists.

Cole's tail was wrapped firmly around Kai's waist to keep from thrashing about.

Slowly, so as not to scare him further, Cole unwound himself and looked him over for any sign of injury.

"Kai? Are you alright?" He asked, carefully and tenderly. The details of his nightmare came back to him like a cold knife twisting into his heart. A sudden stab of guilt and terror knifed through him, making Kai flip over and smother his face in a pillow and burst into tears. "Kai? Talk to me!" Cole pleaded as he kept shaking him, his voice sterner, but not losing an ounce of concern.

"I'm fine," Kai lied wiping his eyes. "I just had a nightmare."

"I can see that, you don't wake up crying and screaming if you've had a good dream," Cole said bluntly, lying down next to him and pulling Kai into his arms. Despite Cole's attempt at light humor, Kai said nothing. He just looked at the pillow beneath his face. A tear he hadn't noticed ran down his face and he found himself shaking again. He tried to speak but the only coherent thoughts in his head were the pleading, effusing eyes of his two brothers.

Determined to relieve his precious flame of his distress, Cole wrapped tentative arms around Kai.

He then pulled the brunette into his lap and brought him down with him against the pillows. Kai resisted the embrace and tried to protest but regretted it when Cole looked him straight in the eye. His face was a mask that betrayed no emotion, but his serious eyes held unspoken trust.

"You saw your siblings, didn't you? You're worried about them." He said and Kai's flinch of shock was the only answer Cole needed. "Don't look so surprised, you screamed both their names; I've had nightmares about my sister and parents for years after they vanished, so you don't have to hide your worry, and I don't want you thinking you can't come to me when you're upset like this." He promised as he tucked one of Kai's loose bangs behind his ear.

"It's not that," Kai admitted, feeling his chest stir at the words. He paused, guilt shaking him to the core. "I don't know if that was a nightmare or another premonition, but... it made me realize just how selfish I've been; here I am, happier than I've ever been in my entire life, surrounded by people who adore me, wearing the most expensive things I've ever owned! I'm practically living a fairy tale and they think I'm starving to death in some cold, dark tower, being tortured."

"Oh," Cole muttered as Kai covered his head with his arms and buried it in Cole's chest.

"They probably think I'm dead, Cole!" Kai cried as tears streamed down his face. He had never stopped thinking of his siblings, not since the day he had arrived at the castle. It seemed wrong to do anything else. Even when he started to like his confinement, and enjoy the company of the Dragon Lord, he still remembered his brother and sister and was comforted in the thought that they were both safe and hopefully happy. He never stopped to consider that his sacrifice might have the opposite effect of what he intended.

Or that his disappearance had destroyed their lives in a way he never considered.

But he had been so happy. The last few days were like a dream come true and he wanted nothing more than to pretend that it could last forever, and he dared, for once, to be selfish and think of nothing but his own happiness. Of course, that decision would come back to haunt him. Guilt pooled in Cole's gut and he cursed his own helplessness as he watched Kai weep. He hated seeing Kai like this. The brunette deserved to be happy and content, not feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and be consumed by guilt and shame for wanting to forget that and enjoy life for once.

Especially since it was his fault Kai's family was separated from him.

Looking back at the darkest and earliest days of when he and Kai met when he had unleashed his bitterness and rage against Nya and Lloyd. Kai's siblings had every right to be afraid of him. He had only agreed to Kai's proposal because the boy fascinated him and not because he cared at all about their fates, even if Lloyd's health had concerned him. It had filled him with shame and he knew he had to make up for it. None of them deserved to be separated from one another.

Especially not because of him.

They deserved better than that ridiculous town trapped in time, and he knew just how to do it. Cole stroked Kai's back and gently shook him. When Kai raised his head, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks damp with tears, Cole comforted him with caring words pressed with butterfly kisses along his neck and temples.

"If you're that concerned about them, then you can always invite them to stay here." He said with a soft smile and Kai shot up.

"What?" He croaked in a weak voice forced through a constricted throat.

"There's more than enough room here, the staff will adore them; you already said you three planned on leaving your town anyway, and I don't think they'll argue if you ask them, and I can bear the bulk of their hatred for your sake."

"Why would they hate you?" Kai blurted, too stunned to think clearly, and Cole raised an eyebrow of annoyed obviousness.

"Given the fact that I locked them in a tower and technically kidnapped you, I doubt they'd be happy to see me or be comfortable with the fact that you're now my lover, but as I said, I can bear the bulk of their hatred until they see I'm not as cold as I act."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," Cole replied, pressing their foreheads together. Overcome by emotion, Kai launched himself into Cole's chest and held him tight with such force he nearly knocked Cole over. Tears rained down his cheeks but this time they were happy tears.

"Thank you, Cole! Thank you so much! I don't deserve you!" Kai cried as he buried himself in Cole's torso grateful for the man's comfort and support and his understanding more than anything else.

"Don't ever say that again, don't even think it." Cole scolded but there was little force behind it. Cole pulled the comforter up to Kai's shoulders as they fell back asleep. "We'll talk more about it in the morning."

"Thank you, Cole, thank you for everything." Kai yawned as he dried his eyes.

"You have nothing to thank me for, it's the least I can do since you saved my soul." Cole smiled as he sensed Kai's lingering uncertainty, he continued to hold his lover close and comfort him until they finally fell back into a peaceful sleep. Cole continued to hold Kai, keeping a careful watch for the rest of the night, treasuring the feeling of holding Kai close. When the nightmares bothered him again, Cole was quick to chase them away and coaxed Kai back to sleep with soothing touches and caring words until Kai quieted...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #lavashipping

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kelyon · 3 years

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Golden Rings 16: A Confession

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

In which Rumple leaves the jail, but is not free

Read on AO3

He waits in the darkness. In this prison, his magic is useless and there is nothing to do but wait. Has he been here for weeks or for months? When his wife fretted over his future, did she worry about him being so bored?

His cell is at the end of a long tunnel. The only torches are at the mouth of the corridor, where the guards are stationed. His captors are quiet tonight, but sometimes he hears them talking to each other. They tell tales of him, warning each other against his power, his evil, his devious tricks. They speak as though they are in danger just by being in his presence.

They are not wrong.

If he wanted to, he could kill them with his bare hands. He wouldn’t need magic or a weapon. His own strength and viciousness would be enough to rip through their armor and tear out their throats with his teeth.

It is fortunate for the guards that he has no intention of harming them, or of escaping. He is exactly where he wants to be. This cell is insulated from magic, it is both a prison and a fortress. If there is any place in this world where the effects of the Queen’s curse might be mitigated, even a little, it is here. In this black hell, that faint spark of hope shines like the sun.

Movement.

At the end of the tunnel, lights grow brighter. Another torch has been added to their number. Footsteps echo in the stone cave. Alerted, he sits up. He pounces away from the wall. He crouches on the dank ground like an animal, claws raised, teeth bared.

“Come closer, dearie.” His words are sweet as treacle, but he laces them with poison. “How kind of you to visit me in my loneliness!”

There is a gasp at the end of the hallway, half-stifled. The visitor is afraid, but is trying not to show it. The footsteps hurry forward, soft and quick. The torchlight grows brighter as it comes closer.

It is a hooded figure, he cannot see its face. The body is small, and the cloak is patterned with green and yellow leaves.

He knows that cloak. He made it himself.

He cannot get his hopes up. He is imprisoned in the stronghold of his enemies. No illusion is beyond the grasp of the Evil Queen or the Blue Fairy. Either one of them could be trying to deceive him. Trying to exploit his weakness for their own gain.

Or madness could be taking over his mind. His own hope could be twisting around on itself, creating a vision of what he wants. The one thing he wants to see more than anything else in the world.

“Come closer, I said!” His voice is rough with disuse, with emotion. In this pit of despair, he does not dare hope. He doesn’t want to believe that it could be…

“You cannot order me about, Rumpelstiltskin. Not anymore.” The voice is clear and beautiful, like clean water in the middle of a drought. The light stops moving when it fills his vision. The figure sets a torch in a sconce. Finally, he can see her. Her face. Her furrowed brow, her shaky smile. “You must at least say please.”

“Please,” he breathes.

It is a short fall, to go from crouching to kneeling, but being near Belle again requires nothing less. He must get on his knees to her--his wife, his love, his dearest wish.

Trembling, he reaches through the pointed bars of his cell. Without hesitation, her hand clutches around his. She is on her knees as well. Her flesh is warm and soft.

“You’re real.” This is no trick. He knows it as surely as he knows anything. “You’re alive.”

She bites her lip as she looks at him. He must be filthy, haggard, even more hideous than usual. But she is not repulsed. Only full of pity.

“What have they done to you?” she whispers.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” He cannot think of his own troubles, not while she is in front of him. “How did you come to be here, my darling?”

“The guard tonight is a dwarf called Sleepy.” She puts on a brave face, tries to make a joke. “He lives up to his name.”

He cannot tear his eyes from her. “And you have made yourself at home in this castle?”

She nods. “Our plan worked. The Prince ‘rescued’ me. And the side of goodness proclaimed me as one of their own.”

“You are,” he sighs. He has never seen a sight more beautiful than the woman who loves him. “You are goodness, my love. The royals should count themselves lucky that they get to be on your side, let alone that you want to be on theirs.”

Her hand clenches around his. “I’m on your side,” she promises. “We are working together, even when we are apart.”

“Yes.” He holds her hand in both of his and brings it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I miss you.”

She reaches into his cage. She grasps at his clothes, pulling him closer. Their mouths meet between the iron bars. Her kiss is honey and sunshine and the breath of life. It is meat and blood and peace. He cannot get enough of her. He will never have enough of her. Not until they are truly together, when all the curses are broken and they can live the rest of their lives without fear.

They break apart at the same time, both of them gasping for breath.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers. “If they find you with me, they will lock you up as well. They will think you are evil. They will try to purify you with scourges and flaying.”

“I know,” she agrees. “But I couldn’t stay away. If only I could be with you always. I would stay with you, even in this terrible place.”

“I know.” He rests his forehead against hers. They breathe together, an act of unity just as important as a kiss.

After a moment, he steps back. There is space between their bodies now, though their hands still touch against the bars. He rubs his thumb over the smooth gold of her wedding ring.

“How are they, up in the outside world?”

“Everyone is panicking over Regina’s curse. They’re trying to stop it, but they don’t know how.”

“If only they had the most powerful user of dark magic in the world trapped somewhere nearby with nothing to do but offer advice to anyone who asks.”

Belle’s pink lips quirk into a half-grin. “Perhaps they need a reminder of that fact.”

“And how is Snow White bearing her firstborn?”

“I haven’t spoken to her much. But I’ve heard that she is often brought low with melancholy. The Prince insists that there is a way to fight the curse, but she is losing hope.”

“Is she desperate?”

“She will be.”

“Good.”

The Dark One trades in desperation. Much of his power comes from fear--not only the fear that people have of him, but of the things they fear so much that they are willing to pay him whatever he asks for.

“The child,” he whispers. “Have they given it a name yet?”

Belle shakes her head. “In this land a prince or princess is not named until after it is born. There is a grand ceremony when the name is spoken for the first time and proclaimed to the whole kingdom.”

“We won’t have time for that,” he snarls. “The curse is coming! The name of the Savior has power. I must know what it is!”

“You will.” She soothes him. She presses her palm against his own. Their scars match up, at the place where they mingled their blood on their wedding day. “I believe in you. We will find a way.”

His breathing slows as her nearness cools his rage. “Together,” he agrees.

His wife looks over her shoulder. “They will change the guard soon.” She bites her lip. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back.”

“You shouldn’t come back.” He forces the words out. “You shouldn’t be here now.”

“Well you can take me over your knee when we see each other again.”

He snorts his surprise and amusement. She is too good, too perfect.

She looks over her shoulder again. “Before I go,” she says, “I have something to ask of you.”

“Anything, my love. Though I have little to give as I am now.”

“It is something from your mind. Something to occupy your thoughts until we meet again.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to think of a name for our baby.”

His eyes widen. He blinks, several times.

“Something you want to tell me, sweetheart?”

She smiles. “No, my love. Only that there is a future for us. Snow White is not the only person who can have an important child. We will be together again. And when we are, we will be a family. All of us.”

He nods. Already his mind is racing with every name he can think of. Names have power. The name of Belle’s child must be perfect. Meaningful. The enormity of the task is enough to fell him. What a brilliant woman his wife is! What a wonderful gift she has given him!

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for reminding me that all of this is temporary.”

Her face breaks, but she keeps herself from weeping. “I love you so much, Rumple.”

She presses in to kiss him again. It lasts for an eternity. It is over too soon.

Before she leaves, she offers him one last assurance: “I will see you again.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin spent the better part of a day in the jail cell of the Storybrooke sheriff station. Apparently Sheriff Swan was the only officer with the authority to release detainees, and her presence was required outside the station until later in the afternoon.

She sent her heartfelt regrets.

He didn’t mind much. The Dark One had learned long ago that there was power in appearing to be at the mercy of his enemies. Captivity in particular had its advantages. No distractions, for one thing. There was nothing he could do now except think, and plan.

Another advantage was that people would have to come to him. Someone had taken the cup that had belonged to Belle. Someone knew what that cup was, and what it meant to him. Someone had tried to draw him out. And someone would be thinking that their scheme had worked.

So someone would be stopping by to gloat.

There was no doubt that the culprit knew what had happened by now. Even if Mrs. Gold’s drunken outburst hadn’t drawn a crowd, news spread fast in a small town. Enough people had heard her shout at him in Granny’s. And enough people had seen Emma helping Mrs. Gold walk to the station. And by mid-morning enough people had noticed him in the holding cell.

For a few hours, Rumpelstiltskin entertained himself by imagining how wild and salacious the rumors could get. Any fool would know that Gold and his wife had participated in a public shouting match, but what else could they think of? That he had used violence? That Mrs. Gold had fought back using her high heeled shoes as a weapon? That her father had rushed in to defend her and Gold had beaten him bloody with his cane? Gold’s reputation was as the most feared man in Storybrooke. Nothing was too outrageous to believe.

That reputation had saved Rumpelstiltskin a lot of trouble in his dealings with the people of Storybrooke. Even now, at the piddling mercy of uniformed police officers, a glare and a sneer were enough to keep them away from him. Every one of them paid rent to him, or owed him something, and they were all keenly aware of it. He was in a cage, but they were the ones who were terrified.

So they made themselves scarce. The station was practically empty by the time Emma waltzed in with a bag from Granny’s. Walking along the central office area, she pulled wrapped sandwiches out of the paper bag and set them on all the desks. Presumably, she knew her workers well enough to know what each would want for lunch. And she cared enough to get it for them, an act that would certainly endear herself to her subordinates.

Emma pulled out the last sandwich from the bag and held it out as she walked over to the cell. “I figured you for a pastrami guy.”

Rumpelstiltskin let himself reach out and take the food. He held the oil-soaked paper bundle in both hands and didn’t open it. “Corned beef, actually.”

“I’ll remember that for next time you’re in here.” It was a joke, but it was also a threat. Emma leaned against one of the desks in front of the cell, facing him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I believe you mean the first time I actually commit a crime,” he countered. Getting her to put him in jail had been nothing but a bit of theater, a convenient way to keep Mrs. Gold from the same fate. They both knew he wasn’t being charged.

“The next time I catch you trying to get a drunk woman to go home with you against her will.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, playing his part. “Given Mrs. Gold’s impulse control, I can’t make many promises on that topic.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that any part of this is her fault, that is not going to happen.”

He let her have that one without further argument. Emma Swan was smarter than most people in this town. She had the rare gift of First Sight--the ability to see things as they really were, and not how everyone knew they were supposed to be. Outside Storybrooke, it had probably been an advantageous skill. But here, in a place where reality itself was subject to the most powerful curse ever made, she was wrong even when she was right.

Nothing Mrs. Gold’s life was her fault, that was true. But it wasn’t Rumpelstiltskin’s fault either. Gold had preyed upon a young woman. Regina had cursed them all. Emma was the only one who could fix everything, but not in the way she thought. Not in any way even someone as smart as her could imagine.

He held up the sandwich. “Thanks for picking up lunch,” he said. “Do my tax dollars include dessert?”

Emma stood up straight, arms swinging with deliberate casualness. “You sit tight, Gold. I’ve gotta go find some paperwork before I can release you.”

She went out into the hallway, and Rumpelstiltskin knew he was in for at least another two hours of incarceration.

It didn’t matter. Emma thought she was punishing Gold, but really she was keeping Rumpelstiltskin free for a little while longer.

He didn’t want to face Mrs. Gold. Interacting with her was torturous under regular circumstances. After last night--and the night before that, and the day in between--living with her would be nearly impossible.

It had finally broken apart. The facade of a marriage that he had spent five months hiding behind had cracked and shattered. She had heard him call out to Belle. She accused him of infidelity. Even Mrs. Gold’s unwavering obedience to her husband had finally bent under the strain of Rumpelstiltskin’s neglect.

Part of him was relieved. It was one thing to wear a mask in front of his enemies, but it was something altogether different to constantly deflect the attentions of a woman who only ever wanted to please him. She lived in his house, she was with him all the time. Until last night, they had slept in the same bed. It had worn on him, to have Belle’s body so near, so willing--and have to reject her again and again. Perhaps now Mrs. Gold would get it into her head to reject him.

Would she leave him?

Long ago in their cursed life, Mrs. Gold had burned bridges with everyone she had known before her marriage. She had no support structure, no money of her own. Her job skills would be enough to get her part-time work at minimum wage--if anyone wanted to hire her. The woman’s reputation around town would scare away most respectable employers. Without Gold, she would have to go begging back to her already impoverished family. Or she could try to ingratiate herself with some other wealthy man in Storybrooke. Gold had often insulted his wife by calling her a whore, but what other option had he given her?

If nothing else, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t let Mrs. Gold make any more reckless decisions with Belle’s body. Though the illusion of the marriage had dissolved, he would have to maintain control over Mrs. Gold somehow.

Probably through money, or comfort. At her core, Mrs. Gold was a practical woman. She knew that her relationship with Gold was a simple deal. If Rumpelstiltskin altered the deal, perhaps she wouldn’t make a fuss.

An image from the night before floated through Rumpelstiltskin’s memory: Mrs. Gold, drunk and heartbroken, fighting against Emma in her need to lash out at him. “You’re supposed to love me, you bastard!”

Where had she gotten that idea? Gold had never allowed his wife to entertain notions of love between them. How could the way Rumpelstiltskin had been treating her possibly lead her to that conclusion? Mrs. Gold had said she loved him, when he had been dreaming of Belle. Had she been dreaming as well?

Had Mrs. Gold been dreaming of her husband? Or had Belle been dreaming of Rumpelstiltskin? What was happening to the curse?

Emma came back with a manila file folder in her hand. She strode purposefully through the station, perfectly comfortable wielding her authority. She was truly the combination of her parents--a born princess and a seasoned war leader. She was the Savior, the curse-breaker. All he had to do was hold on until she started saving everyone.

There was a clear line of sight between the Sheriff’s office and the holding cell. Rumpelstiltskin watched as Emma put the folder she had just brought in at the bottom of a stack of similar files. He took that to be all the paperwork she would have to get through before she would deign to release him.

****

After twenty minutes of industrious silence, the sound of running feet broke through the hallway outside. To Rumpelstiltskin’s ear, the running sounded happy, excited, young. A child with boundless energy, finally free to burst toward something they want.

Following the running was the methodical click of high heeled shoes. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin thought that Mrs. Gold had come to the station. But no, these footsteps were more authoritative, businesslike.

He wasn’t surprised at all to see Henry Mills come bounding in to the station and make a beeline for Emma’s office. And of course Regina would be slinking right behind him.

“Sheriff Swan, I’m going to permit you half an hour with my son.” Regina announced this piddling allowance of time like it was a gift. “Take him out for ice cream.”

Rumpelstiltskin watched Emma’s eyes flit from Regina, to Henry, to the empty station, to himself, and then back to Regina. “You’re expecting me to leave you alone with a prisoner?”

Regina lifted her chin and looked straight ahead at the cell. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

This time, Emma’s look went only from Henry to Rumpelstiltskin. “Are you okay with this?”

He shrugged. “Bring me back a cone?”

Emma nodded to him, then spoke to Regina. “We will be right back.”

“Yes, you’ll have to be,” the Queen said smoothly. She stood still as Emma and Henry bustled around her, jabbering excitedly as they left. It really was remarkable how much both mother and son lit up when they were together.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move. He stayed seated on the cell bench and let Regina come to him. She perched on the arm of the sofa in front of the holding cell. She had a large, black leather purse slung over one shoulder.

“Madame Mayor,” he said in tones low with menace. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Mr. Gold, I think we might be able to help each other.”

The audacity of this woman. Under any other circumstance, she would have nothing to offer him. And yet…

“When two people each have something the other wants, a deal can always be struck.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I hoped you’d see it that way.”

“But do you have something I want?”

Instead of answering, Regina crossed her legs and pushed back the blazer of her smart business suit. “You know, all day I’ve been hearing the most terrible rumors about you and Mrs. Gold. I do hope everything is alright between you two.”

“My wife,” he said slowly, “has not been herself lately.”

“Or is it you who haven’t been yourself, Mr. Gold?”

He looked at her, impassive. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do.” The Queen took her purse off her shoulder and set it on her knees.

Rumpelstiltskin tried not to stare at the bag. He looked instead at Regina’s face. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, to help you. And to receive some help in return.”

“What do you have to offer me, dearie?”

“Not much,” she smirked. Without looking down, Regina reached into her purse and pulled it out. The chipped cup. “Just a… sentimental little keepsake.”

It took all of Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve not to leap to his feet and demand the cup. He wanted to break these steel bars and rip the cup from Regina’s hands--and rip her hands from her arms if she wouldn’t surrender it. That was Belle’s cup. This witch had no right to touch it!

Instead, he stayed still. All his energy, all his rage, focused on the cup. He focused on Regina, who dangled it by the handle.

“How?” he rasped. How had she known about the cup? How had he let his cover slip? How had she broken into Gold’s house?

“Flimsy locks,” she quipped. Then the Queen turned more serious. “I have power in this world, more power than you know.”

“But not enough,” he hissed. “You will never have enough power to beat me.”

She shook her head. A faint chuckle entered her voice. “I already have. I know what your weakness is.”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed and made himself shrug. “It’s just a cup.”

“But you want it,” Regina purred. “And you’ll give me what I want in order to get it back.”

“What is it that you want, dearie?”

“I want you to answer one question. And answer it simply.” She squared her shoulders before she asked: “What is your name?”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hesitate. “It’s Mr. Gold.”

The Queen glowered at him. “Your real name.”

“Every moment I’ve spent in this world, that has been my name.”

Regina leaned forward, closer to the bars. “What about moments spent elsewhere?”

He locked his eyes on hers. “What are you asking me?”

“I think you know.” Clearly her patience was running thin. “Tell me your name.”

And with a sly grin, he confessed: “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The deal done, he took the cup from Regina’s unresisting hands and cradled it in his own. He looked it over, making sure there was only one chip. Belle’s cup. Their cup. It was safe.

When he looked at Regina, she was fairly glowing with triumph.

“What gave me away?”

“Belle did,” Regina said smugly. “I’ve been watching Mr. and Mrs. Gold for, well, a very long time now. I could see that something was wrong with her. But you seemed perfectly normal. Suspiciously normal.”

His own caution--his own commitment to playing the role of Gold--that was what had exposed him. Still holding the cup in both hands, Rumpelstiltskin sat back against the wall. “So,” he said, “as long as we’re being honest with each other, let’s remember how things used to be.”

“We used to work together,” Regina said, incorrectly. “You used to help me without so much… hostility.”

“That was before you ever came after what was mine, Your Majesty.” He shook his head and tutted. “You really should be more careful about who you make your enemy.”

“You mean my victim,” she sneered.

“And how much longer do you think that will last? Haven’t you noticed the curse getting weaker?”

“But I am just as strong as ever!” The Queen rose to her feet. She looked down on him with regal disdain. “You’re the one who’s letting your biggest weakness galavant all over town!”

Clutching the bars of the cell, Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself up to stand “For your sake, I hope that isn’t a threat.”

“Of course not.” Regina closed her purse and began to leave. “I’ve barely spoken to Mrs. Gold. I’m certainly not the one who brought her so much pain she got drunk in public and started crying in the street.”

With a satisfied smirk, Regina turned on her heel and left.

****

Darkness had fallen by the time Emma officially let him out. Winter nights came early in Maine. If the sheriff noticed the teacup in his hands, she didn’t mention it.

His first thought was to walk back to Granny’s where he had parked Gold’s car the night before. But then he remembered that he had given the keys to Mrs. Gold so she could take herself home. So he would have to walk to the house.

He only hoped that she would still be there when he arrived.

The house was dark and the door was unlocked. Gold’s heavy ring of keys hung in plain sight on the first hook by the door. Rumpelstiltskin took the keys and put them in his pocket. Flimsy locks, Regina had said. She had broken into his house and stolen one of the things he valued most in the world--and he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. The cup could have been missing for days before he went into Gold’s study and saw that it wasn’t where he’d left it.

Would she attack his home again? Should he arrange to put double bolts on all the doors? Or was she just trying to toy with him? This was a world the Queen had made. It shouldn’t surprise him that she had her own ways to take anything she wanted from anyone.

Noise came from one of the inner rooms. It took Rumpelstiltskin a moment to recognize the sound of the television in the living room. Gold had never cared much for the “idiot box,” so it had been an easy device for Rumpelstiltskin to ignore.

He went toward the noise, turning on lights as he went through the house. In the living room off the kitchen, the only light came from the flashing bluish glare of the television. Mrs. Gold was sitting on the couch, curled in on herself under a blanket. She was staring vacantly at the screen, letting the sounds and images wash over her.

Was it just the blue light, or was she paler than normal? The shadows of this dark room brought out the hollows in her cheeks and under her eyes. He could see the sheen of tear tracks on her skin. Unwashed hair hung limply around her face. Her lower lip was dark and swollen from where she had been biting it.

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t move or speak. Mrs. Gold hadn’t noticed his arrival. Briefly, he wondered if she was drunk again. If she was trying to deaden the pain of her existence by deadening every other sense. But no, there were no bottles anywhere nearby. Mrs. Gold’s pain by itself was enough to deaden her senses.

He turned on a lamp and let a soft golden glow invade the harsh blue. Mrs. Gold jumped out of her daze. Unlike other times when Rumpelstiltskin had surprised Mrs. Gold, she didn’t hop to attention like a trained animal. She didn’t stand up and present her body for his approval, she didn’t kneel before him like a slave. Instead, Mrs. Gold sank back into the corner of the couch. She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him in silence.

She was afraid.

When she had looked at him like this before, Mrs. Gold had been afraid of what she knew was coming. She knew how cruel her husband was, what the consequences were of displeasing him. But now it seemed she was afraid of the unknown. She had said it herself: All that matters is that I don’t know who you are. Whether she knew it or not, Mrs. Gold was afraid of Rumpelstiltskin.

“Hi,” he said softly. He tried not to alarm her any further.

“Hi,” she answered, still staring at him. She didn’t let her guard down. She muted the television and turned to face him.

“I… I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She broke their eye contact and looked down. “I didn’t know if yo u would let me come back if I left.”

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his fist around his cane. Was her uncertainty a reflection of Gold, or of himself? Gold had done so much to hurt his wife, but Rumpelstiltskin was the one who had hurt her most recently. He was the one who had made her like this.

“Mrs. Gold,” he said. “Please, I know things are… confusing right now. But please know that this is always your home, and I will always provide for you.”

“Why?” The word was a whisper in a silent house, but it carried all the weight of the world. “You’re not fucking me. You don’t even like me. Why do you bother with me?”

The chipped cup was still in his hand. He set it down on an end table and moved to sit in one of the high-backed chairs across from the couch. Rumpelstiltskin leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he spoke to Mrs. Gold.

“Because I have a duty to you,” he answered. “I have a responsibility to care for you.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“To take care of you,” Rumpelstiltskin amended. “I owe you that much, Mrs. Gold. It is the absolute least I can do.”

“How nice of you.” Her voice shook with bitterness. “How super fucking charitable! How long will that last, do you think? How long until you get tired of doing the least you can do?”

Mrs. Gold’s hands twisted in the blanket. Her face screwed up into the picture of unspoken agony. She let her hair hang over her face and took a few ragged, sobbing breaths.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to comfort her. Belle or not, she was a woman in pain and he knew that he could soothe her. That was the least he could do.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stayed in the chair, shoulders slumped, and waited for her to calm herself.

“Mrs. Gold,” he tried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you married.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Is that it?” On the couch, Mrs. Gold was shaking. “Are we… Is it over? Us? Our marriage?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin spoke before he could think. “No, I want you with me, dear. I don’t… I don’t want us to be separated.”

“But you don’t want us to be together.” She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand. “Not like we were before.”

“I know it’s complicated,” he said. “I wish I could tell you more. Truly I do. But right now let’s just say that I have enemies and you are better off under my protection. All I’m asking is for you to trust me.”

She let out a shaking breath that could have been a laugh or a sob. “Does Belle trust you?”

It was a strange thing to hear Mrs. Gold say. Belle’s voice, saying her own name with so much suspicion and loathing.

“Yes,” he answered. “Belle trusts me with her life, though I’m not always worthy of it.”

For a long time, Mrs. Gold didn’t say anything. She shook her head, rocking slightly on the couch as tears streamed silently down her face.

And Rumpelstiltskin sat there. Doing nothing.

When Mrs. Gold was able to speak, she asked him: “Why aren’t you with her now?”

“With Belle?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I mean, you’re still a man who can get whatever he wants. If she’s so important to you, why aren’t the two of you together?”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed, trying to think of something plausible to say. “We want to be,” he started. “But, well, Belle is very far away from me right now.”

“What, does she live in fucking Australia or something? Or is she married too?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a tone he knew would make Mrs. Gold drop the topic. “What matters is that I have a responsibility to you, and I’m not going to shirk that just because I’m in love with someone else.”

Mrs. Gold winced, but then it turned into a grim smile. “Never thought I’d hear you say that you loved anyone, Mr. Gold. That’s why I never took it personally that you didn’t love me.” Abruptly, she stood up. “I’ll move my clothes over to the guest bedroom.”

“You can have the master--”

“No,” she cut him off. She seemed to have run out of emotions, and was now running on brutal practicality. “You need the bathroom in the master suite because of your leg. I won’t have as hard a time with the tub in the hall bathroom.”

“That’s… very thoughtful of you.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She sighed and turned off the muted television. Now her half of the room was in darkness. “Believe it or not, this isn’t the worst deal you could have offered me.”

“What deal?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He had been trying to be honest with her. He wasn’t aware that they had been negotiating.

“A loveless marriage for a life of comfort.” She kept herself busy by folding her blanket and putting it away in a cedar chest. She didn’t look at him. “It is mostly the same as what we had before.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her as she walked out of the living room.

“Good night, Mr. Gold,” she said formally. “I’m glad you found your teacup.”

By the time he gathered himself enough to speak, she was already upstairs. A door slammed, and Rumpelstiltskin hung his head.

So this was the future he was going to have with his wife.

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle angst

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Beauty and The Brando - Dio Brando (1/2)

This is gonna be a royal clusterfuck

Beauty and the Beast x Stardust Crusaders

Dio Brando x Reader

CAST:

Beast - Dio Brando Belle - Reader Maurice ( Belle's Father ) - Roses ( Joseph's driver ) The Servants - Dio's servants Gaston - Kujo Jotaro LeFou - Jean - Pierre Polnareff Monsieur D'Arque - Joseph Joestar The Baker - Muhammad Avdol The Bookseller - Kakyoin Noriaki The Triplettes - Jotaro's classmates Featherduster - Mariah Lumiere - Daniel J. D'Arby Cogsworth - Terence T. D'Arby Mrs. Potts - Enyaba Chip - Oingo & Boingo Sultan ( the dog ) - Pet Shop The Wardrobe - Midler Chef Bouche - N'Doul Philippe ( the horse ) - Hol Horse Enchantress - Holy Kujo The Rest of the Servants - Dio's Tarot Servants

CLICK HERE FOR:

PART 2

------------

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young nobleman lived in the great Joestar mansion. Although he had everything his heart desires, as he was a greatly ambitious man with high intellect, the nobleman was ruthless, selfish and unkind, enough so that he managed to poison his own adoptive father, who was kind enough to abide his debt to his biological father, albeit being, unbeknownst to him, the treachery of a vile, heartless and greedy man. And if that wasn't enough to show the merciless soul of the one and only greatest Lawyer of this land, the charming Dio Brando, he had to ruin the life of his adoptive brother and his wife as well...

But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the mansion and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

Repulsed by the woman's haggard appearance, the nobleman sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress, with hair golden like the Sun's rays and eyes and eyes like the azure sky.

The prince tried to apologise, realising that he didn't yet possess such extraordinary powers, but it was much too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart, and as punishment, she transformed him into a huge, hideous, immortal beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

Dio Brando was transformed into a Vampire, as the rose's thorns entangled around him, almost as if they electrified him, as the Enchantress put a stone mask on his face, digging its spikes onto his otherwise gorgeous visage...

Ashamed of his monstrous form, despite the power he possessed, the Vampire concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.

The rose she had offered, that before was used to transform him, morphed back to to its original, much less harmful appearance, which would grant him a painful immortality, as a lesson to learn how much despair and sorrow one who wishes to conquer the world must endure, watching every form of life wilt away around him.

However, if he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the 100 years predicted, when the last petal would fall, then the spell would be broken, and if will be able to live a normal life again.

If not, he would be doomed to waste away and remain a timeless beast until the Earth was no more.

As the years passed, he had countless women brought in by his charming appearance, by his alluring voice, by his never-ending wealth, but he was well aware that he loved none of those wenches, and clearly, neither truly loved him, but his power, so he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love such a beast that could easily snap a human's neck with merely his fingers, as if they are nothing more than a delicate dove?

--------

~ 100 Years Later ~

It was a beautiful morning, but not as beautiful as the cheerful young lady who skipped the stairs of her home, leaving with a basket in her hand and made her way into the town to do her daily routine, singing her heart out.

“Little town It's a quiet village Every day Like the one before Little town Full of little people Waking up to say...” she sang in a soft voice, in a way not being content with the usual conservatory routine of the little town, hidden away from most of the civilisation and modernisation of the other big-cities around.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” everyone started greeting the young girl with happy grins on their faces. “There goes the baker with his tray, like always The same old bread and rolls to sell Every morning just the same Since the morning that we came To this poor provincial town” Y/N sang again, doing a little twirl as she greeted the tall man.

“Good morning, Y/N!” the baker greeted her as he took a few loaves of bread to sell at his boulangerie. “Good morning, monsieur Avdol!” she greeted back, in a polite voice. “Where you off to?” he asked, getting the loaves inside. “Mr. Kakyoin’s Bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story! About elves and dwarves and dunedain and ...” she tried to tell him, her excitement obvious in her voice, but... “That’s nice. Iggy, the baguettes, hurry up!” the man interrupted her, obviously not having time for her fantasies. “Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?” 2 elderly women chanted as the girl merely sighed and walked away, used to how judgemental the people of this little town can be.

“Never part of any crowd 'Cause her head's up on some cloud No denying she's a funny girl that Y/N!” some other villagers sang together, as the girl went on her merry way towards the bookshop. “Bonjour, good day How is your family? Bonjour, good day How is your wife? I need six eggs That's too expensive!” every person around the market was singing in their own tune. “There must be more than this provincial life!” Y/N sang, a bit tired of this tiresome routine of close-minded people who didn’t want to broaden their horizons.

“Y/N!” Noriaki jolted from his chair, putting his book aside as he greeted the girl with as much enthusiasm as she did. “Good morning! I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.” she handed him the book, as she quickly climbed up the ladder, looking around for any new books. “Already?!” the red haired man looked at her with a slightly shocked, yet slightly amused expression. “Of course, I couldn’t put it down! Have you got anything new?” she asked, just in case, making the man chuckle in glee. “Haha, not since yesterday.” he explained, going to hold the ladder for her. “That’s all right, I’ll borrow this one.” she picked up a book, handing it to the man dressed in green. “That one? But you’ve read it twice!” Kakyoin chuckled, looking at the girl’s glazed eyes. “But it’s my favourite! Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, kings, princesses and dragons!” Y/N grinned widely, playfully hopping off the ladder. “If you like it all that much, it’s yours.” he put the book in her basket, guiding her outside. “But, Mr. Kakyoin-” she tried to object, but the man merely chuckled. “I insist!” he bowed slightly to her, smiling back. “Well, thank you! Thank you very much!” she chirped, already opening the book to start reading right away. “Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well!” the 3 men outside the bookshop sang, huddling together as the girl went past a group of children, hopped the skipping chord and patted the girl on the head. “With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is Y/N!” the people in the alley sang, as the girl found her way to a fountain where a woman was washing laundry and a small flock of sheep were walking around. “Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see Here's where she meets Faramir the Charming But she won't fall for him 'til chapter thirty-three!” she sang on the fountain to the two sheep that jumped next to her, but as one of them munch the corner of a page, she decided to start moving again. “Now it's no wonder that her nickname is Beauty Her looks have got no parallel” the woman at the beauty parlor sang, snatching her wig and putting a new hat on. “But behind that fair facade I'm afraid she's rather odd Very different from the rest of us.” the man accompanying her showed her the mirror to admire herself. “She's nothing like the rest of us Yes, different from the rest of us is Belle!” the rest of the villagers sang as she went on her merry way, not paying attention to any of them.

“Ora!” was heard, as a goose fell from the sky, and Polnareff quickly ran to put it in his bag. “You didn’t miss even one, Jotaro! You’re the greatest Stand User in the Whole World!” Polnareff praised the brunet man who only grunted, with a cocky smirk, and turned to walk away. “No Stand User stands against you! And no girl, for that matter.” the silver haired man chuckled lowly, nudging his friend. “True, Polnareff. And I’ve got my sights set on that one.” he pointed towards the reading girl who helped an elderly woman with her fruit basket. “The inventor’s daughter?!” Polnareff looked at his friend with a stupid face. “She’s the one. The lucky girl I’m going to marry. I’m so tired of my annoying grandpa pissing me off to marry, and all those stupid bitches fawning over me.” Jotaro scoffed, not even hearing his companion’s objections. “The only Stand User female in town. That makes her the best. And DON’T I deserve the best, considering this mess I’m in?” the brunet sneered in annoyance. “Well, of course you do, Jotaro, but-” PolPol tried to speak, but it was no use. “Right from the moment when I saw her and her Stand... Oh, Gimme a break. Here in town there's only she Who is powerful as me Yare Yare...Making plans to woo and marry Y/N.” Jotaro realised the girl was going farther away from him, so he had to follow her, as he tipped his hat.

“Look there he goes Isn't he dreamy? Monsieur Gaston Oh, he's so cute! Be still my heart I'm hardly breathing He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!” the 3 highschool girls that kept stalking Jotaro all day long sang, swooning to the ground. “Bonjour, pardon Good day, mais oui! You call this bacon, what lovely flowers Some cheese, ten yards, one pound, excuse me I'll get the knife Please let me through! This bread, those fish, it's stale, they smell! Madame's mistaken- Well, maybe so!” the busy market sang as the girl swiftly made her way through, without as much as bothering to look up from her book.

“There must be more than this provincial life!” Y/N sang her heart’s most burning desire. “Just watch, I'm going to make Y/N my wife!” Jotaro sang in a loud and sure tone as the rest of the villagers got in his way. “Look there she goes the girl is strange, but special A most peculiar mademoiselle! It's a pity and a sin She doesn't quite fit in 'Cause she really is a funny girl A beauty but a funny girl She really is a funny girl That Y/N!” everyone around chimed in, as Jotaro growled in rage, pushing the people away and using Star Platinum to jump on a house’s roof and jump in front of the girl, cutting her path.

“Y/N.” he tipped his hat, looking away. “Bonjour, Jotaro.” she greeted her highschool classmate, not bothering to look at him until he snatched away the book from her hands. “Jotaro, may I have my book back, please?” she asked in a low voice, not wanting to get irritated. “How can you read this? There’s no pictures.” he got the book sideways, making Star flip quickly through the pages. “Well, some people use their imagination.” she explained playfully, yet patiently. “Y/N, it’s about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things...Like me.” he humpfed, throwing her book in a puddle of mud. “Riiiight.” she sighed, getting quickly on her knees to gingerly snatch away the book and use her Stand to fix the book. “The whole town’s talking about it. It’s not right for a woman to be so obsessed with her own fantasy world. Soon, she’ll start getting ideas and thinking, and worse, she will want a job and won’t want to settle for being a traditional housewife anymore.” Jotaro grumbled, knowing how stubborn the woman in front of him is. “Jotaro, you are positively primeval.” the girl ignored him, wiping the book’s hard cover gently. “Thank you, Y/N. What do you say you and me take a walk over to the tavern and take a look at all the trophies I’ve taken from the Stand Users I’ve beaten.” he snatched away the book once again, making the girl roll her eyes. “Maybe some other time.” she said, but still got pushed in that direction. “What’s wrong with her? She’s crazy! He’s goooorgeous!” the Bimbettes were fawning over him, gazing with heart eyes from the sidelines. “Please, Jotaro, I can’t. I have to get home to help my father. Goodbye!” she snatched away her book, waving him goodbye awkwardly as she rushed home. “That crazy old loon. He needs all the help he can get!” Polnareff insulted her father, making the brunet man chuckle with him. “Don’t talk about my father that way!” she scolded them, making them stop laughing immediately. “Yare Yare, Polnareff, how dare you talk about her father that way?!” Star Ora’d a bump to Pol’s head. “My father is not crazy. He’s a genius!” the girl scolded them angrily.

However, just as she said that, an explosion from her house was seen, so she ran that way to make sure he’s okay. Of course, apart from his pants getting ripped off, old man Roses was fine, if not, a bit irked, but the girl couldn’t help but chuckle at her dad’s silliness, as he grumpily said he’ll give up his invention.

The girl, knowing how her father can get, hugged him and encouraged him, telling him that he will win tomorrow’s fair and become a world-famous inventor without a doubt, which made the man quickly get back to his invention.

The girl asked her dad whether he thought she was odd or not, considering that she’s an introverted bookworm who was never interested in dating or any of those silly sports or activities that her other highschool classmates do, as she’d rather read a book.

She was feeling all alone in this little town - Apart from her father and Mr. Kakyoin - She had nobody to talk to.

When Roses asked about that Kujo Jotaro guy, the girl groaned, saying how sure, he’s attractive, but that’s just that - He’s rude to his grandpa and to his friend, he’s conceited and a big jerk and a heartbreaker. So not her style.

In the meantime, her dad managed to make the invention work, so she went to prepare Hol Horse, their family horse, so he could go to the fair and hopefully win with this log-cutter invention, and bidding him farewell, Y/N went back inside the house to do some chores.

On their way to the fair, the father managed to get himself lost in the spooky woods, and Hol Horse quickly got scared by the many bats and wolf howls, so much that the poor horse almost ran off a cliff, making Roses fall off and watch in despair as Hol ran away, followed by hungry, mangy mutts.

Said wolves, however, started running after him, and he managed to find refuge behind some grandiose gates, inside the property of the great Joestar Manor. He knocked, but getting no answer, he timidly wandered inside, asking for a place to stay for the night, as the D’Arby brothers kept arguing in their furniture state.

Roses, shocked by the incredible wonder in front of him, picked up Terence, the Cogsworth, and started touching everywhere to understand how his mechanism worked well enough to even talk freely. Terence started blushing from embarrassment and anger, as he closed his little door, but the older man sneezed in his face because of the dust, making D’arby Jr. wipe away his screen with the clock pointers.

His elder brother, Daniel the Lumiere, was much more charming and sympathetic, guiding the man to warm himself by the fire, as the little brother was trying to stop them, afraid of their Master’s wrath.

Terence fell down the stairs and watched in horror as Daniel guided Roses to the Master’s chair, and if that wasn’t enough, Pet Shop, the Hawk who became a walking cushion chair, jumped on his clock head and flew under the elder man’s feet, not before getting pet, of course, and the clothes hanger offered a warm blanket politely.

Enyaba the Tea Pot came in a huge rush on a plate, along with her two little chipped tea cups, Oingo and Boingo, offering him some tea to warm up - The elderly man chose the youngest tea cup, Boingo, who started giggling because his mustache was tickling him, making the man chuckle fatherly.

Unfortunately for all their cheerful atmosphere, the door was slammed open, revealing a huge beast-like man with wild mane-like blond hair, piercing amber eyes like a Hawk’s, and long black claw-like nails, growling at them, and putting out the fire in the fire place, making everyone tremble in their spot.

Dio Brando the most Fearful Vampire in the Land, the Beast that was thought to be nothing more than a mere, old urban legend of the village’s...But he was real.

Nobody could argue with their master’s decision as he picked up the man, glaring at him, telling him that he’s not welcomed here, and throwing him in a prison cell, not caring for any kind of explanation.

It was a grim night.

---

The next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Jotaro and Polnareff, helped by Grandpa Joseph, made a cute little garden wedding for Jotaro and Y/N...That, before even proposing to the girl or even dating her.

Nonchalantly, he got into the girl’s house, as she was reading peacefully, and intimidatingly started walking around, telling her that today was the day all her dreams would come true, telling her his fantasies, their future life together, as she tried to walk away from him.

She manged to get the perfect opportunity as she leaned on the door and with the help of her Stand, opened said door and pushed him out, locking the door, putting his hat on the doorstep and watching as he fell into a huge puddle of mud.

As much as she was pissed off at that stupid cardboard head’s proposal, as she doesn’t want to limit herself to that provincial life, so she sang as she went into the garden, laying down between the flowers, saying how she’d hope someone would finally understand her thirst for knowledge and adventure...

That is, until she heard a loud neigh and Hol Horse galloped next to her, worrying her as her father was nowhere to be seen. Wasting no time, she got the carriage off his back and got a warm cloak, putting it around her, and jumped on the horse, letting it guide her to the huge Joestar Manor.

It was scary.

It was so scary that Hol Horse wanted to run away again, but the girl quickly jumped off of it as soon as she saw Roses’ hat inside the manor’s garden, so she realised she had to brave her fears and get inside the castle-like household, while all the furniture servants were talking between themselves, hoping that she was the fateful girl who would be able to break the spell.

Y/N kept looking around for her dad, until she got to the dungeons, as she called out for her Papa, until finally, someone responded - It was indeed her Papa, locked inside a cell, coughing, most likely ill.

“Your hands are like ice! We have to get you out of there.” she explained, holding his hand tightly as she looked around for a way to get him out of there. “Y/N, I want you to leave this place.” her father warned her, his eyes wide and filled with fright as he looked around to make sure there was no fiend around. “What?! I won’t leave you!” she gasped in shock at his words. “What are you doing here?” a growl was the only thing she heard as she was roughly pulled away from the door by the huge Vampire. “Who’s there? Who are you?” she asked, trying to gather herself from the floor. “It is me, DIO, the master of this castle.” a low, yet alluring voice came from the shadows as Dio Brando lurked around like a ghost in the darkness. “I’ve come for my father! Please, let him out! Can’t you see he’s sick?!” she pleaded, crawling to her father’s side, behind the barred door, as she strained her eyes to get a better look at his captor. “Then he SHOULDN’T have trespassed here!” Dio growled his answer, towering over the pleading girl. “But he could die! Please, I-I..I’ll do anything!” she begged him with all her heart, but the Beast in front of her merely turned away from that pitiful sight. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.” Dio spoke in a low voice, walking away. “There must be some way I can...WAIT!” she yelled out loud, catching the Vampire’s attention. “...Take me instead.” she declared in a much softer voice, almost inaudible, were it not for his fine hearing. “You?!...Why would YOU take his place? You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you, and you’d rather waste it away, rotting in such a place, just to offer this geezer’s a few years more to live?” the blond man prowled in front of the petite girl, towering over her, looking at her with a foreign shock and curiosity. “Y/N, no! You don’t know what you’re doing!” her father tried to beg her not to do something so foolish. “He’s my father...He’s the only person who ever believed, cared and loved me, from all that town filled with hypocrites, ingrates and close-minded low-lives. I’d do anything to know he’s okay...So...If I were to take his places...Would you let him go?” her voice was filled with both anger at the village and the way they treated her, but also sorrow, for having to choose to be separated from her papa, because of such an unfortunate twist of events. “Yes. But you must promise to stay here forever. Are you willing to make such a sacrifice for someone else?” he asked, in a voice, almost as if she was making a pact with the devil himself. “...Come into the light.” she demanded, and without much hesitation, the man stepped into the moonlight offered by the crack in the ceiling, making the girl gasp and step back, hitting her back to the wall seeing the man that was almost twice her size in height and at least 10 times in muscle weight, as his elongated teeth were shining like a predator’s. “No, Y/N, I won’t let you do this!” her father pleaded, but with one last look at him, the girl knew she had to do anything in her power to save him, the way he saved her every day. “You have my word.” she walked in front of the Beast, who looked at her with mild interest, before nodding slightly.

As the Vampire walked past her to liberate the old man, the girl’s knees weakened from so many pent up emotions, and she fell to the ground, while Roses hugged her tightly, trying to change her mind.

But the Beast already had his mind set - The girl was his and his alone.

As Dio hurried to throw the old man into a carriage, ordering to be sent back to the village, he noticed the girl huddled by a little window, crying her eyes out, all the regret in her heart for not even be allowed to say her final goodbyes.

Something in the blond man’s heart seemed to break, even though he thought that heart to be there no more, but this...This was something that he never expected to ever feel in this life.

“I’ll show you to your room.” he ordered the girl, as she looked at him with confusion in her wide fawn-like eyes. “R-Room? But...I thought...?” she stuttered, looking around in the tower room her father was once imprisoned in. “Would you rather stay in this tower? If not, then follow me.” Dio tsked, not even waiting for an answer as he made his way to one of the guest rooms.

The girl followed close after, being scared and still tearing up softly as she looked left and right to see creepy gargoyle and monster-like statues, as the only source of light offered came from Daniel’s little candle fire.

“Say something to her, she’s in distress! Be the British Gentleman you were born as!” the Lumiere whispered, urging his Master to do something. “...I hope this place will be to your liking...This Mansion is your home as well as it is mine and the servants’ now, therefor you are allowed to go anywhere to your heart’s content, save for the west wing.” the blond explained the castle’s places to go, but of course, Y/N was a curious girl and she wanted answers. “Why, what’s in the west wing-” she tried to ask, only to be cut off swiftly. “It’s forbidden.” Dio turned to glare at her for a split second, making her eek in surprise, before continuing his way to her room, opening the door for her. “Should you need anything, you need only just ask, and my servants will attend to you.” he said, almost robotically. “Dinner! Invite her to dinner!” Daniel nudged his master, as he nodded. “You shall join me for dinner. That is an order, not a request.” Dio slammed the door shut behind him, letting the girl groan in frustration and fright, jumping on the bed to sob her feelings away.

At the same time, Jotaro was growling and drinking his anger away, as Polnareff tried to pacify his friend who felt disgraced by that simpleton woman’s rejection. The silver haired man started singing as he tried to cheer him up.

“No one's slick as JoJo No one's quick as JoJo No one's neck's as incredibly thick as JoJo's For there's no man in town half as manly Perfect, a pure paragon!” Polnareff sang, taking out Silver Chariot and strangling Joots with a belt, only to see the leather snap with ease at a simple flex. “You can ask any Koichi, Okuyasu, or Josuke! And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on!” the silver haired man chirped proudly as he got picked up.

“No one's big like JoJo A king pin like JoJo!” the 1-Braincell trip chanted, most likely drunk.

“No one's got a swell cleft in his chin like JoJo!” Polnareff grinned, poking his chin.

“Yare Yare Daze...Of course, I’m an intimidating man.” Jotaro flexed his arms, taking out Star Platinum who mimicked his action.

“My, what a guy, that JoJo Give five "hurrahs!" Give twelve "hip-hips!" JoJo is the best And the rest is all drips!” the crown from the Tavern, along with the French man, sang cheerfully, until the latter managed to throw beer at Jotaro’s face, angering him.

“No one fights like JoJo Douses lights like JoJo In a wrestling match nobody bites like JoJo!” Jotaro Ora’d the hell out of Polnareff with his Star Platinum, as he himself jumped on the table, wrestling all the men there.

“For there's no one as burly and brawny“ the three Bimbettes sang, having heart eyes watching the man show off. “As you see I've got biceps to spare.” effortlessly, Star lifted the bench on which the 3 girls were sitting.

“Not a bit of him's scraggly or scrawny” the silver haired man got up, nudging the brunet.

“That's right! And ev'ry last inch of me's covered with hair.“ the lad ripped off the tank top he had underneath his school uniform jacket.

“No one hits like JoJo Matches wits like JoJo!“ the crowd chanted, as Jotaro flipped the checkers table in anger, realising he was going to lose.

“In a spitting match nobody spits like JoJo!” Polnareff giggled like a schoolgirl, making his friend glare at him.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jotaro sneered at him.

“When I was a wee lad, I ate four dozen bentos my mother made me Ev'ry morning to help me get large And now that I'm grown, I eat five dozen bentos So I'm roughly the size of a barge.” Jotaro smirked widely, flexing and showing off.

“No one shoots like JoJo Makes those beauts like JoJo!” the crown sang merrily as the brunet man used Star Finger to make holes in a barrel and let beer fall as if it was a fountain.

“Then goes tromping around wearing boots like JoJo!” Polnareff screamed loudly to be heard from all the loud stomping Jotaro did as he slumped back in his throne-like red chair.

“I use enemy Stand Users’ heads in all of my decorating.” he showed off, pointing on the large wall filled with trophy heads.

“Say it again Who's a man among men? And then say it once more Who's the hero next door? Who's a super success? Don't you know? Can't you guess? Ask his fans and his five hangers-on There's just one guy in town who's got all of it down” the crowd chanted as they raised up the chair he was in, but dropped them on Polnareff’s poor back.

“And his name's J--O--T--A... J--O--O--T--S... J--O--E--S--......” the silver haired man tried his best to spell breathlessly from under the chair, but with no luck, so he let the rest of the people chant his friend’s name.

KUJO JOTARO!

Just as they finished the song, Roses barged into the tavern, asking for help, but of course, nobody believed him, so he was thrown out of the pub as everyone kept laughing -

Until Jotaro smirked, realising that he could use the influence his grandpa has as the Asylum owner, and if he throws the old man there, Y/N would surely fall to his feet and marry him!

“No one plots like JoJo” the two friends’ Stands started dancing around the tavern together, celebrating the future victory of their unbeatable plan.

“Takes cheap shots like JoJo” Jotaro sang, as Star Platinum lifted Silver Chariot in the air.

“Plans to persecute harmless crackpots like JoJo” Polnareff laughed obnoxiously.

“So, his marriage we soon will be celebrating! My what a guy JoJo!” everyone in the pub chanted loudly and cheerfuly.

---

Returning back to Y/N’s room, a soft knock on the door woke her up from the trance of tears, and she soon realised that Old Enyaba, along with Oingo and Boingo came to help her calm down...

But how could this be possible? A walking, talking tea pot? Tea cups as well? Her surprise was even bigger as she bumped into Midler, the cheerful wardrobe, so of course, despite how bewildering this...Everything was...

She couldn’t help herself but sit on the ground and drinking the little tea that Boingo could fit.

“That was a rather brave thing you did, dear, if not, a tad foolish." Enyaba spoke in a grandma-like voice. “We all think so...” Midler spoke in a sympathetic voice. “But...I’ve lost everything. My father, my dreams, my future, my sense of self...” Y/N sighed, an obvious sad look on her face. “Cheer up, child, it will turn out all right in the end, that much, I can predict, you’ll see. Oh, listen to me, jabbering on, while there’s supper to get on the table. Oingo, Boingo, let’s go!” Enyaba jumped out of the room, as the two brother cups said their goodbyes. “Hmmm, what shall we dress you in tonight? Let’s see what I got in my drawers!...! OOPS! Haha...How embarrassing...” Midler laughed awkwardly as some moths got out of her, before taking out a cute, little pink dress. “Oh, you’ll look ravishing in this one!” “That’s very kind of you, but I’m not going to dinner.” the girl tried to say, but just then, Terence came to tell her that dinner is served.

Down in the dining room, the Master was stomping around the room mindlessly, waiting for the girl to come, as he snapped impatiently at his servants who were just as anxious as he was.

Of course, they were all aware that this was the only opportunity they had to make the pair fall in love, but Dio was cursing himself out loud for allowing that damn enchantment to mess with appearance, no longer looking as charming as a prince as 100 years ago.

Dio was desperate, he wanted his life back, but he had no idea how to make himself be presentable and calm in front of this contemporary damsel that he caused the distress of.

He was just like the dragon who kidnapped the princess and kept her in imprisoned, so he’d be surely damned before he would ever be able to make her fall in love with him.

As Enyaba and Daniel tried to give him the basic tips and remind him how to be a proper gentleman, Terence came, fumbling on his words...Until he spewed that the girl won’t be attending dinner...

Which is when the Vampire snapped and letting out a pitched “WRYYYYYYY”, he stomped his way quickly to the girl’s new room, banging harshly on the door.

“I suggest you get out of that room, otherwise I will break the door!” he yelled, clawing at the door in anger.

“Uh...Master...I could be wrong but...I doubt that is how you will gain her affections.” Daniel spoke awkwardly. “Please! Attempt to be a gentleman!” Terence pleaded his master. “But she is being so difficult!” Dio sneered lowly, throwing his arm dramatically to point at the door. “Gently! Geeeeently!” Enyaba tried to pacify his master, as he took a deep breath, trying to control himself. “Will you come down to dinner?” he asked, this time in a scorned, yet low, feign-calmer voice. “No!” was her only interjection, that made the blond man grit his teeth, glaring at his servants, to make them realise she couldn’t be reasoned with. “Suave! Geeentle!” Terence tried to speak in a softer voice. “...It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner...Please.” he managed to say, albeit with a lot of pauses to calm himself. “No, thank you!” she called out from inside the room. “I AM DIO BRANDO, YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME FOREVER, I AM THE MASTER OF THIS PLACE! Even if you attempt to hide behind that door, you can’t stay there forever!” Dio yelled at her in an obviously angry voice. “Watch me!” was the only thing she replied. “FINE! Then go ahead and STARVE, you spoiled little missy!...If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all!” Dio’s voice echoed throughout the whole mansion, making the servants icky with fear and disappointment.

“Older brother, stand watch at the door and see if anything changes.” Terence ordered his elder brother. “Oui, mon frere!” Daniel nodded with a military salute as he started guarding the door. “Well, we might as well go downstairs and start cleaning up.” Terence sighed, as him as Enyaba went to help with the cleaning up.

In the West wing, the room that was trashed already from top to bottom, except for a crystal-glass bell in which the magic rose was being trapped, Dio Brando stormed inside said place, grumbling and destroying even more of the furniture to ease his frustration.

“I ask her nicely to dine with me, and she refuses! The nerve! The audacity of that wench! What does she want me to do, beg?! I, Dio Brando, will NEVER beg! Mirror, show me the girl!” he roughly grabbed the mirror, spying on his new captive, and seeing Midler try to console her, trying to tell her that he is not so bad once you get to know him, but the girl was nothing but stubborn, which angered him even more...Or maybe that was just the last bit of hope he had getting stomped on. “That stupid enchantress...Doing something as despicable as this to me...This stupid girl will never be able to see the Dio from 100 years ago, no matter what I do. I’m no JoJo, and she’s no Erina. I guess monsters like me are fated to forever wallow in misery and self-pity their whole life. This was hopeless from the beginning.” he sighed, putting down the mirror gently as he watched another petal fall of the rose.

Back to Y/N’s room, the girl slowly opened the door, peeking to see if anyone was looking around, and seeing the coast clear, she tip toed out of there...As her guard, Daniel, was busy fooling around with Mariah the Featherduster behind the courtains, giggling and flirting like no tomorrow...Until the Lumiere noticed Y/N which made him let Mariah fall to the ground, not even hearing her cursing him.

“Zut alors! She has emerged!” he gasped in shock as the girl made her way to the Kitchens, where she was greeted by Terence, at first, only to have Daniel get in front of him, get her hand, kissing the back of it, and wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Enchante, cherie~!” “If there’s anything we can do to make your stay here more comfortable...” Terence tried to say, before his elder brother burnt his butt with a candle fire. “Well, I guess I’m a bit hungry.” she smiled at them in amusement. “You are? Hear that, she’s hungry! Stoke the fire! Break out the silver, wake the china!” Enyaba started ordering all the dishes to come out at once. “Remember what the master said...!” Terence started sweating in despair. “Pish tosh! I’m not about to let the poor child go hungry!” Enyaba cackled like an old hag. “She’s our guest! We must make her feel welcome here! Right this way, mademoiselle~!” Daniel guided them to the dining room, much to his brother’s anxiety attack. “We- We must be quiet! If the master finds out...” he tried to explain, but Daniel had none of it. “Of course, of course! But what is a dinner without a little music~?”

Daniel brought Y/N to the long banquet table as he started singing and entertaining the girl, so she won’t have to think bad because of what happened before.

"Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride And greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair As the dining room proudly presents Your dinner!" he spoke in his usual suave voice as he put on a sort-of hat, and the dishes were slowly dancing around him.

“Be our guest, be our guest Put our service to the test Tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie And we'll provide the rest!” he sang as a few dishes were brought in front of her.

“Soup du jour, hot hors d'oeuvres Why, we only live to serve Try the grey stuff, it's delicious Don't believe me, ask the dishes!” as he opened a tray of little food samples for her to try.

“They can sing, they can dance After all, miss, this is France And a dinner here is never second best!” Daniel sang as the dished from the cupboard got in a formation to resemble the Eiffel Tower.

“Go on, unfold your menu Take a glance and then you'll Be our guest oui, our guest Be our guest!” the Lumiere gave the girl a menu for her to look at. “Beef ragout, cheese soufflé Pie and pudding, on flambé We'll prepare and serve with flair A culinary cabaret!” he continued as a ton of dished danced and sang in front of her, and of course, she couldn’t stop herself and took a bite.

“You're alone and you're scared But the banquet's all prepared No one's gloomy or complaining While the flatware's entertaining!” the spoons started diving inside the punch bowl, like sync dancing in the water.

“We tell jokes, I do tricks With my fellow candlesticks” Daniel was thrown into the air as he used the little flames on his candles to do little firecracker tricks. “And it's all in perfect taste that you can bet Come on and lift your glass You've won your own free pass To be our guest if you're stressed It's fine dining we suggest Be our guest, be our guest, be our guest!” the ale, wine, water and mead caraffas started dancing, pulling Terence along with them. “Life is so unnerving For a servant who's not serving He's not whole without a soul to wait upon Ah, those good old days when we were useful Suddenly those good old days are gone Too long we've been rusting Needing so much more than dusting Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just lay around the castle Flabby, fat and lazy You walked in and oops-a-daisy!” as the salt started falling down Terence, his elder brother started throwing him around, as if he was dancing with him, until he threw him inside the green jelly, then propelling him away again.

“It's a guest, it's a guest Sake's alive, well I'll be blessed! Wine's been poured and thank the Lord I've had the napkins freshly pressed With dessert, she'll want tea And my dear that's fine with me While the cups do their soft-shoein' I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing I'll get warm, piping hot Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot? Clean it up, we want the company impressed We've got a lot to do! Is it one lump or two?” Enyaba sang cheerfully, preparing the napkins, the pots with the hot food, and the little cups.

“For you, our guest (she's our guest) She's our guest (she's our guest) Be our guest, be our guest! Our command is your request It's been years since we've had anybody here And we're obsessed With your meal, with your ease Yes, indeed, we aim to please!” the flower holders all went to Y/N for her to admire and sniff in the gorgeous flowers’ smell, while all the plates, forks, knives, spoons and cups were dancing together, getting on their spot on the long table.

“While the candlelight's still glowing Let us help you, we'll keep going...” everyone sang as the candeholders all got up on by one, letting Daniel have the spotlight, on top of one of the cakes.

“Course by course, one by one 'Til you shout, "enough I'm done!" Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest Tonight you'll prop your feet up But for now, let's eat up!” Daniel sang as he danced some cabaret, while the the illuminated chandelier, along with a few other coloured lights, came down from behind the courtains, revealing the forks dancing cabaret as well, as the featherdusters all went behind Terence to join the dance.

“Be our guest Be our guest Be our guest Please, be our guest” everyone danced and sang merrily as all the bubbly champagne bottles popped open, making the girl join in the singing, clapping happily, her eyes sparkling with glee and admiration at the incredible show they all put together just for her, along with the tons of dishes she was surrounded by.

“Bravo, that was absolutely wonderful!” she grinned widely in appreciation. “Thank you! Haha, thank you, mademoiselle! Good show, wasn’t it, everyone?...Mon Dieu, look at the time! Now it’s off to bed, off to bed!” Terence tried to usher her back to bed after eating the best meal of her life. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly go to bed now! It’s my first time in an enchanted castle!” she clapped in glee. “E-Enchanted? Who said anything about enchanted...?...IT WAS YOU, WASN’T IT?!” Terence growled at his elder brother, starting to beat him up. “I...Figured it out by myself.” she chuckled in amusement as she parted the quarreling brothers. “I’d like to look around...If that’s alright, of course.” she got out from her seat, looking to her surroundings as if she was a curious meerkat. “Would you like a tour?” Daniel asked charmingly. “Wait a second. Wait a second! I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We...Can’t let her go poking around in certain places, if you know what I mean.” Terence nudged his elder brother. “Hmm...Perhaps you’d like to take me? I’m sure you know everything there is to know about the castle.” she winked at him, as he couldn’t help but blush. “I...Well...Actually...Oui, je sais.” Terence chuckled awkwardly as he took the girl on a tour, telling her about Baroque and Rococo designs, until he realised she was going to the stairs to the West Wing, and they tried to stop her, but to no avail...

Until they mentioned the Library, and she feigned she was going with them, as they walked ahead, and she went ahead to see what was so interesting in the West Wing that was forbidden.

The place was trashed, unlike any other, and the statues were much scarier. Walking down the creepy corridor, she got in front of this grand door that had a golden beast as a handle, and taking a deep breath, she mustered the courage to go venture inside and look around the room that was nothing more than a ruin she had no idea what to make of.

Looking around, she noticed a big portrait of a man, but it was clawed...So she gingerly put together the parts, revealing a very handsome young man, holding a lawyer’s degree...The man had shiny blond hair and amber eyes...

That man was definitely Dio Brando before he transformed into the frightening beast that he is now.

However, he eyes weren’t enchanted by the gorgeous man for too long, as a little pink shine captured her attention in the corner of her eye, and she noticed a single red-pink rose, floating and glittering inside a glass bell, around it a pink aura that seemed nothing less than magical.

The girl’s curiosity doomed her, as she took off the bell to get a better look at the flower, yet afraid to touch it at first, as it was mesmerising... But it was captivating, it was enchanting, and she couldn’t stop herself as her fingers slowly started inching towards its petals...

Only for a huge shadow to loom over her, as the Vampire came out of nowhere, no sound of movement detected, and he quickly covered the rose again, towering over the girl, glaring and speaking in a dark, threatening voice.

“Why did you come her?! Have you no mind or recollection of what I just said earlier? This place is FORBIDDEN, and for a reason!” his voice was frightening to say the least, making her eyes go wide as saucers from the huge temperament change. “I-I’m really sorry! Curiosity got the best of me and...” she kept stuttering, her hands of in defense as she tried to step back away from him. “I WARNED you NEVER to come here!” he yelled roughly the emphasised words. “I didn’t mean any harm, I’m really sorry!” she tried to calm him down, but he only got angried. “DO YOU REALISE WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?!” he growled, almost animalistic, his long, white fangs now looking even more threatening than before, as he backhanded a desk, breaking it. “Dio, please stop, you’re scaring me!” she glued her back to a broken wardrobe in fear. “GET OUT! GEEEEEET OOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!” he started trashing around like wild, making the girl yelp in fear, as she ran away, taking her cloak and getting out of the mansion.

She didn’t care about the D’Arby brothers’ siblings, nor about the promise or the harsh blizzard going on outside, since winter was rougher than usual - She climbed up on Hol Horse and galloped the hell out of there, hoping to get home, but the road was filled with surprises as the Horse got scared from the big group of wolves that started jumping at him.

He could only run away, unfortunately stomping too hard on the frozen lake, falling in, but somehow managing to get back to the snowy ground...But so did the wolves. In its fear, the Horse kept bucking to his hind legs, making its reins somehow knot themselves on a branch and throwing off the girl, as it tried to fend off the predators.

Y/N, in fear, got the nearest wooden bat branch she found, trying not to let the hungry pack bite her, trashing around with the bat aimlessly, until one of the wolves managed to bite and tug the wood from her arms, leaving her defenseless, as another one jumped on her, getting her by the cloak and throwing her to the ground, as another tried to jump and maul her.

By good fortune, the girl and her horse were saved by Dio who arrived just in time, letting out a mighty WRYYY and yelling “ZA WARUDO”...And the next time she blinked, there were no more wolves...They disappeared like magic...And all she could see was a big, yellow Stand.

That Stand disappeared quickly, before the girl could even say that she could see it, as the man fell to the ground, panting in exhaustion, a few wounds on him.

“It’s been such a long time since I used my Stand, that I can’t even do it properly anymore. How pitiful of me...To get wounded by some mangy mutts...I should’ve burned them, like I did with JoJo’s stupid Danny.” he growled in a low voice as he fainted to the ground.

The girl then wrapped her cloak around his figure, then made the horse get down so she could get him on and back to the mansion to treat his wounds.

He was obviously weakened when she helped him on his chair by the fire...He couldn’t even look at her from the shame and anger he had in his heart.

“I saw you’re a Stand User...Well, so am I. Will you let me heal you, Dio? It’s the least I can do after you saved me.” she asked him, as she sat kneeling by his side, trying to get a hold of his wounded arm. “No.” he replied as stubbornly as she did before. “What?! Just-...Just hold still!” she took out her beautiful, light blue Stand and used the water it conjured to heal the wound...But not without the Vampire letting out a pitched WRYYYYYYYYY as he yanked his arm back. “IT HURTS!!!” he yelled in her face, but she only frowned. “You’re a century old Vampire and you whine about some sting?! Just hold still and it won’t hurt as much!” she raised her tone at him. “If were to drink the blood from your body, I’d have no more wounds! Besides, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t run away!” he spoke back just as cheeky. “If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!” she scoffed, spitting back her comeback. “Well...You shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!” he shot right back after a second of thinking. “Well, you should learn to control your temper!...Now hold still, this might sting a little, but that’s how healing works. At least it has a pretty fast effect.” she said as her Stand carefully started healing his arm, as she held his hand. “By the way...Thank you for saving my life.” she spoke in a much softer voice than before. “...You’re welcome. I won’t take your blood either.” Dio scoffed, turning his back away...But his amber eyes still glanced to the side to take a peek at her.

The whole night was much better for the two of them, and they thought there was nothing else that could possibly disturb their peace for now on...

However, unbeknownst to any of the Mansion’s residents, the one and only Kujo Jotaro, the great great great grandson of his rival and step-brother, but also, the only man he ever respected in his life, was plotting revenge along with grandpa Joseph Joestar, the Asylum’s director...

And that revenge was something nobody could ever expect.

Kujo Jotaro was nothing less than an ambitious man who ALWAYS got his way when he was pissed off.

Click here for

PART 2

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samtheskald · 2 years

Text

Learn to Love - A Johnlock/Beauty & the Beast Crossover

(Very rough first draft of the first chapter)

Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter’s night, and old beggar came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by their haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the supplicant away. But, they warned him not to be deceived by appearances for beauty was found within.

When he dismissed them again, the beggar’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful magician. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late for they had seen there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, they transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose they had offered was truly an enchanted rose which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken.

If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope.

For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

----

Smiling brightly to the baker as he walked past, John offered a little wave.

“Where are you off to so early, young Master Watson?” The balding, portly man called in French over his shoulder while gingerly pulling a tray full of rolls out of a large clay, outdoor oven.

“The bookshop.” John replied. “I’m returning this book I borrowed, about a beanstalk and an ogre and-”

“That’s nice.” The baker interrupted, not hearing John much at all. It had been a politely rhetorical question. The baker turning to face the slightly ajar door into the Shoppe de Pain proper. “Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!”

With a private smile, the young blond continued down the cobblestones to his destination. He didn’t seem to mind being brushed off. No one here in the small village of Fourcés, France seemed to understand his penchant for reading and dreaming of being – well, anywhere but here. Sure, the village was beautiful and peaceful. Everyone was friendly to a certain point. But it wasn’t home.

John had grown up in London, busy and bustling and full of people. When he was small, his parents fell ill and never recovered. The orphanage wouldn’t take them, fearing they were carrying plague. And so, John and his older sister Harriet had been shipped over the channel to a distant second-cousin in France who owned a small vineyard in the countryside. ‘Aunt Frances’, as they called her, had little interest in anything but herself and wine-making, so the children were more or less left to fend for themselves and make their own mischief until Harriet was old enough to marry.

Harriet (or Harry, as John liked to tease her) took her adolescent brother with her to Fourcés - much to the chagrin of her new husband, Edouard. Eager to not be a burden, John made himself as useful as possible, but even he could not prevent war. Harry’s husband enlisted and marched to Italy in the first year of their marriage. John had been eager to go along but was considered too young at only 15 years old. Edouard bade he stay and take care of Harriet in his absence, regardless.

The war lasted four long years. In addition to John working odd jobs around town, Harry made friends with the other local wives who were without their husbands and pieced together quite a robust support network set up between them. They were able to scrape by until it was time for the soldiers to return, which thankfully a good amount did. Harry and John waited almost another year beyond that, watching their support slowly disappear, before they gave up hope that Edouard would ever return. Another war had begun, but Harry forbade her brother from leaving her behind with no means what-so-ever.

Now, the Watsons made the best of their poor, provincial existence. Harry was now considered the eccentric widow who wasn’t keen on re-marrying. Instead, she spent a considerable time at the tavern and was slipping into barely concealed alcoholism more every week. John had grown in a strong, thoughtful young man with his eyes always on the horizon.

He didn’t feel he belonged in this type of life, this type of town. Though some of the local girls had tried to flirt, he didn’t put too serious stock into it. Settling here in Fourcés had very little appeal for him. He did what he could to keep them two fed and clothed, to allow Harry her bad habits. They had a small garden and some chickens, enough to sell a little of the extra. It wasn’t much, but they had found a kind of peace in it. Though, at the rate Harry was going, it may not last much longer. He tried hard not to resent her for trapping him here, but some days his anger got the better of him.

Reading helped with John’s wanderlust some. The bookstore in town rarely got new books in, so John tried to strategically re-read them far enough apart to not be too repetitive. The owner was kind enough to let John borrow some books without having to buy them, since he couldn’t afford them anyway. While he was reading, the youngest Watson could imagine he was far from rural France doing daring deeds, fighting in dramatic duels, or getting swept up a life-changing romance. He had a deep yearning for such adventure, enough that he could write his own stories someday.

#sherlock bbc #johnlock #john watson #harry watson #france #rural village #mid 1800s #fanfiction #please do not post elsewhere

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hellas-himself · 4 years

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ZevWarden Week Day 1: Eye of the Beholder, Identity

Trenzas

It had been days since the archdemon had been defeated, and the air in the Denerim alienage still smelled like smoke. Zevran carefully stepped across the stones, the rain having done nothing but turn the ground muddy and leave the cobblestones slippery. For a moment, he remembered himself as a child, skipping across the cobblestones in Antiva, careful not to fall and scrape his knees for the thousandth time. Of climbing up trees and the neighboring buildings surrounding the brothel despite being told not to.

As he approached the ramshackle house before him, a haggard looking elf stepped out, stretching their arm. The only evidence of any injury was the telltale rips in their sleeve and the slight scar that told him his beloved was working herself ragged.

She didn’t like to leave scars.

The elf gave Zevran a nod, one that Zevran returned with a weak smile before making his way inside. It was… odd, to have these elves look at him as if he had done anything worthy of their respect. Especially when he had never felt like one of them.

“Mi amor,” he said softly, locking up the door with the single bolt it had, not because he had to but, after so many months of sleeping under the night sky, a door with a lock was a luxury. “I’m here.”

He heard a sigh and looked across the room to see the love of his life washing her hands in the basin. Her hair was coming undone from its bun and the shadows beneath her eyes did not sit well with him. Even the soft glow of the candlelight did nothing to hide her exhaustion.

“Hello,” she said, giving him a smile. “How is are dear king?”

Zevran grinned. “He hates you.”

Leliel snorted. “I’ve only been away a few days. He can survive a few days more.”

“Can you blame him?” Zevran asked as he approached her. “I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from you.”

“Mhm.”

Leliel dried her hands and Zevran walked around the table to hug her from behind. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling her lean back into him.

“I’ve missed you today,” Zevran whispered and Leliel turned around in his hold and wrapped her arms around him.

“I missed you, too.”

They remained that way until a knock came upon the front door.

“I’ll get it.”

“No,” Leliel said as they pulled away. “I’ll get it.”

The smile she gave him was not convincing but he merely nodded and watched her approach the door. To his relief, it was merely Shianni, bringing them a basket of food. After a quick thanks and wish goodnight, Leliel locked the door and carried the basket to the table. It was a simple meal, but by the end, their bellies were full and Leliel looked content.

“They asked me to stay,” Leliel said as she sipped her wine, the last dregs of the bottle they’d brought from the castle. She looked at him almost expectantly.

“What did you say?”

She shrugged. “I want to help but… it feels wrong. To stay here. Besides, the healer will be here soon. They won’t need me.”

“Wherever you go, amor, I will follow.”

“I know,” she said with a blush. “It’s not that.”

Zevran considered her for a moment, noting how uncertain she seemed.

“You feel as though you do not belong here.”

Leliel breathed out and nodded, setting her cup down.

“We look the same but… I’m not a city elf. I’m not Dalish.”

“You say that as though this were a shortcoming of yours.”

Her bashful expression tugged on his heart.

“You cannot be blamed for being torn from your family as a child and raised up in that tower.”

“I know.”

“But you feel guilty all the same.”

“I wish sometimes that-” She stopped and sighed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Zevran watched her pull the pin out of her hair, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders before she began the attempt at winding it back up.

“Amor. If I may…”

Leliel paused, watching him stand and approach her. He held out his hand and she gave him the pin which he pocketed. He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the way she sighed.

“My mother was Dalish,” he began. “But you know this.”

“Mhm. And you’re Antivan.”

He didn’t have to look to see that she was smirking.

“I’ve never found myself to have anything in common with the Dalish or the elves of the alienages besides our ears.” He chuckled. “I admire what you do for them, mi amor.”

“It’s not enough,” she murmured.

“To whom?”

He noticed the way she tensed and said nothing, choosing instead to use her pin to evenly part her hair down the middle. He twisted one half into a bun before beginning to braid the other.

“Do you know the Antivan word for braid, amor?” he asked.

“No. What is it?”

“Trenza.”

“Trenza?”

He playfully tugged on her hair and she giggled.

“Perfect on the first try!”

“Shut up, Zevran,” Leliel said with a laugh.

He smiled.

“Yes, yes. La trenza. One of the very few memories I have of my mother is of her braiding my hair. The other women liked to do the same, and they would tell me stories or sing a song. As if they could leave their memories in every trenza they wove.”

“That’s… that’s very sweet.”

“Trenzas are as simple or as intricate as you wish them to be. You remember the warriors we met amongst the Dalish, who braided their hair as the elders wove their stories by the fire? ”

“Yes.”

“And here, the elves do the same, even if they believe themselves so far removed from the Dalish.”

Zevran had to step back to reach the end of her braid before securing it with a leather cord. He moved on to the second one as Leliel brought the finished braid over her shoulder and began to play with the end of it.

“When you are raised as I am, as you were, being told who we are does not always agree with what we see in the mirror.”

“No… it doesn’t.” Her voice was quiet.

“But then I would braid my hair and remember my mother… remember the others who looked like us and think that perhaps we were not so different after all.”

Zevran reached the end of the braid and began to tie it.

“Mi amor?” Leliel asked softly.

“Hm?”

“I used to wish that I had somewhere to call home… somewhere I belonged.”

He gently placed the braid over her shoulder and watched her turn in her seat to face him. Leliel was blushing, her grey eyes so bright with hope he felt his chest tighten.

“But then I met you and… I belong with you, wherever you are. You’re my home, Zevran.”

He held out his hand to her and helped her to her feet, pulling her into his arms. There were tears in his eyes, tears that she got on her tip toes to kiss as they fell.

“I love you,” she said and kissed him, Zevran bringing his arms around her and holding her close.

“I may be Antivan,” he said with a smile, “But I am yours.”

Leliel laughed. “Oh gods, Zevran.”

“Not how I expected to hear you saying that today, but I’ll take it.”

“You’re terrible,” she managed to say between laughs and brought her arms around his neck. “And I love you for it.”

Perhaps, they may never belong amongst other elves, but he knew that as long as he was with her, he was home. And that was more than he had ever dared hope for.

As some background, I’m Puerto Rican. I grew up living between New York, New Jersey and the island itself. Like many kids of the diaspora, you grow up never feeling enough. In the island, I wasn’t “really” one of them because I lived in the states, and in the states, I’m “too much” and slurs I won’t repeat because fuck that. Sometimes it felt like I was grasping at straws when I sought out my family and culture. But one thing that always stuck with me was the braids. Every culture has their braids, their rituals. My tias would braid our hair and tell us stories, sing us songs. Braids are like a connection between you and your ancestors, your island. So with Zev and Lel, it just felt right for me to put my own personal touch there. <3

#zevwarden week 2020 #zevran x leliel #leliel surana #zevran arainai #zevran x surana #zevran x warden #dragon age origins #dao #da:o #trenzas #zevliel #these are missing zevran hours

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thehattertheory · 4 years

Text

Bridge

So. I haven’t actually written anything in about five years. But I really need to take a break from the depressive episode that is 2020.

Here goes.

That one where I take the prompt too literally.

Fluff. Rated Teen.

She was pulled away from her family when she was seven, with no knowledge or understanding of why. For a month, she was kept in a temple in Nago, where she learned rites she had never even heard of. She dressed, bathed, and ate how and when she was told. She repeated words she didn’t understand, moved and sat on command, endured scolding when she fidgeted.

And she hated every minute of it.

There was no one even close to her age, the next youngest already an avid nineteen that seemed resigned to it, whatever ‘it’ happened to be. Adults spoke to her only of rites and stories, and they answered her questions with vague ideas that didn’t make anything, especially her presence, any more clear.

When the fasting began, the fasting and praying that was supposed to last for seven days, she considered running away. She was seven years old, and the fact that her family owned and worked a shrine did not mean she had any desire to be a priestess. She’d already decided to become a baseball player.

In the early hours of the seventh day, starving and sullen, she followed the other men and women, a silent, sober flock dressed in black and white and blue. A figure splashed in red and white led them across a bridge and into what could only be called a castle, some ancient thing half hidden in the forest surrounding it.

She’d listened to the stories, thinking them only more shrine traditions passed down to her. However, once inside she saw creatures, monstrous beings that echoed the stories told to her with such gravity. Youkai, oni, witches and magicians. They watched the quiet procession with disinterest, disdain, contempt or apathy. Shying from those cold gazes, she tried to move closer to the inside of the procession as it wove through halls. Like fighting a current, she was kept on the outside, unable to cut through to some semblance of safety.

The woman in red stopped and sat at a table. A figure, also dressed in red with shocking white hair and bright amber eyes sat across from her. They both sipped tea.

The tension in the room relaxed, and she watched as some of the others began to filter out.

It had been emphasized, repeatedly, to stay with an adult. However, all of the adults were filtering away from her, and she couldn’t find anyone she felt close enough to to bother. The priests and priestesses might as well have been youkai for their cold disinterest.

Slipping out and away, she moved down the halls, shrinking from the gaze of the few youkai that spared her a passing glance. Most of them regarded her with the same disinterest that the priests and priestesses did. She saw a door open, someone stepping inside, light and sky beyond them, and she made for it.

The garden was beautiful, with trees and plants she’d never seen before, flowers blooming, splashes of color she knew weren’t possible in nature. Breathing freely for the first time in a month, she explored the colors and sounds, the textures of plants she’d never seen before. The temperature dropped the closer she got to the water, beckoning and promising to cool the summer heat and stifling robes she’d been wrapped in.

There were writhing, slippery things in the water, swirls of colors lazily twining around one another. Like a living knot, constantly untying and knotting itself up again in loops, she followed lines closely, entranced by the shimmer of scales and colors.

“Lost?” A rough voice asked, cutting through the cold. She spun, almost fell into the water behind her. A large hand on her shirt pulled her back onto her feet.

“What’re those?”

The youkai, and she recognized him as such immediately, rolled his eyes. “Serpents.”

“Like snakes?”

“They don’t teach you little bastards anything these days,” He almost whined, showing sharp, white teeth. She couldn’t help but stare, the whiteness of his teeth on his dark skin and his eyes too blue, the slit of a vertical pupil only making the pale blue that much more alien.

“What kind are you?” She blurted.

“Clearly you haven’t been here before,” He snorted, squatting down to her height. “Or you’d know.”

“I haven’t,” She challenged sullenly. “They took me from home last month.”

He made a face, something akin to disgust. “They’re still doing that shit then. Humans.”

“Are you a dog?” She asked, surprised when he made an offended sound.

“Wolf, brat. I’m a wolf. Not some mongrel like Inu Yasha.”

“Who?”

His laughter rang out over the garden. “You don’t pay attention much, do you?”

His laughter had been directed at her then, and she didn’t like it. Ignoring him, she spun on her heel and began walking towards the bridge.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” His voice taunted, echoing behind her.

She stubbornly ignored him, reaching the other side and sitting just out of view, hiding by one of the bridges posts.

No one else came out to the garden, letting her soak in some semblance of peace.

Another priest found her, hours later. A stern reprimand was all he offered, grabbing her by the arm and marching her through the castle to a room where others were already bedding down.

“I haven’t eaten,” She mumbled into the darkness.

“Then you’ll go to bed hungry, for wandering off,” Someone bit out sternly.

When they woken the next morning, the youkai were gone. She followed the sober parade back, across the bridge and into the normal, mundane world.

She was sworn to secrecy, and returned to her family.

Thew few times she tried to whine, to demand explanation, to dare complaining to her mother and grandfather they shushed her, threatening misfortune for speaking of the ritual.

—

She was taken again, when she was eight. Time had not been kind to her memory, and she felt she had to relearn everything that had taught her before. But she did not forget what to expect, and resented being treated like baggage, something to be dragged along for the process.

She followed on the outskirts of the parade, dragging her feet until she was almost left behind. She didn’t bother trying to see the tea ceremony, or the figures inside of it. Waiting until she heard the distinct sound that comes upon a room releasing it’s breath, she fled, intent on the garden again.

Instead, she got hopelessly lost, wandering the maze of hallways, down a flight of stairs, up another and then maybe another, she couldn’t remember.

“Need help?” A familiar, rough voice asked. She looked up at the wolf watching her.

“No,” She muttered, still stung as only a child could be by his taunting the year before.

“I can hear your stomach growling from here. Do they ever feed you brats?”

“It’s rude. And we held a sacred fast,” She bit out petulantly, offended even if she didn’t understand the point of the ritual itself.

“They make a kid fast?” He muttered. “How long?”

“Seven days.”

He muttered a pithy obscenity and gestured. “Come on, kid. You need food.”

Hugging her stomach, abruptly remembering how very hungry she was, she followed him through the halls.

“This is the garden. Stay out here, I’ll bring you food,” He commanded impatiently.

She sat down on the bridge, dangling her legs over the side. The serpent youkai continued their lazy circles, rippling just under the surface of the water in a whorl of dulled scales.

“Hello,” Two voices greeted in unison. She turned , saw two youkai strolling towards her, both holding two plates piled high with food. “We didn’t know what you liked, so we brought you everything.”

She inched away from them, wary of two strangers that looked little like the youkai from before. Her reticence did not go unnoticed, the pair not bothering to hide their hurt at her rejection.

“Kouga told us to come out here,” One began.

“That you hadn’t eaten in a week,” The other mumbled.

She reached forward, took a roll, her mother’s voice reaching out and shaming her for rejecting a kindness. A hesitant brightness crept in to their eyes, as if her acceptance had been some sort of signal.

“Who is Kouga?”

“Our leader,” One supplied.

“Does he have blue eyes?”

“That’s the one,” The other nodded.

“Who’re you?”

“Ginta,” One offered, grinning.

“Hakkaku. We’re his seconds.”

“What’s a second?”

As if she’d said the exact right thing, the pair launched into a detailed soliloquy about a second, and what one (or a pair) of them did for a leader, and a pack. She didn’t get most of it, but they were funny, as they spoke of it. Excited, more than any of the other youkai she’d seen all day. It was difficult to imagine them following the taciturn youkai, but they extolled his virtues, more to themselves than to her.

She ate, shared the food with the wolves, listening to the stories they told, of times and things she could barely comprehend. A single question could launch them into a thousand new directions so that she barely had to speak at all.

He found them still like that, close to dark.

“You morons,” He sighed, the insult lacking any bite. “You need to get back inside, your people are searching for you.”

She ducked her head at the duo still sitting, watching her and their leader.

The ookami looked tired, haggard even. He jerked his chin towards the castle. Giving him a shy nod, she bolted, stomach full, for the door. It was simple to find one of the priests. SHe endured her scolding, barely hearing the words any more than she’d heard the stories and rites they’d force fed her for a month before going upstairs to a futon to sleep.

The next morning she resolved to begin learning more about youkai.

—

Her resolve to become a fount of youkai lore had faded by the time she was taken again. She had a few scraps of knowledge, some misinformed stories that she knew had to be lies.

She endured the month of rites and rituals, the week of fasting and soaked in everything she could, newly fascinated.

She quietly wandered as far from the crowds of humans and youkai as she could.

Kouga found her, food in hand.

“Come on brat,” He sighed, as if he hadn’t searched her out.

“Is it true ookami eat humans?” She asked abruptly.

“Sometimes,” He shrugged.

She’d expected him to lie, was shocked with the ease to which he admitted eating human flesh.

“Not as often these days,” He smiled, fangs showing. “Don’t humans eat animals?”

“Cows, chickens-”

“And they don’t think or feel?”

His logic, to her at least, was irrefutable. “I’m not eating one again.”

“Too bad, there’s some good smelling meat on here,” Kouga taunted, sliding the door to the outside open with his foot. She stepped out, walked over to the bridge that had become her unofficial spot.

The plate sat there, mostly meat. A week of fasting on tea and scant bits of rice made her nauseous with hunger.

“Are you going to eat me?” She muttered.

“S’been awhile since I’ve eaten a human,” Kouga wondered idly, leaning against a rail as if he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit. “Few hundred years at least.”

“How long have you been alive?”

“Can’t really remember. A long time.”

“Tell me,” She demanded.

He began telling her stories, and she reached for the plate, eating idly as he recounted a Japan that had been before common names and modern times. She dropped pieces of food over the bridge into the water, the seprents twirling, moving to catch the bits beneath.

His stories, and storytelling, were expansive, reaching across time and the entirety of Japan. Listening, it felt easy to believe Japan as he knew it had existed once. Unlike the stories Ginta and Hakkaku had told her, his stories felt darker, more honest in their way. Eating humans, eating other youkai, hunting and war seemed natural, lost their terror for the ease that he spoke of them.

“Go to bed, miko.”

She bobbed her head, tired as she walked back to the castle.

Far from being afraid of nightmares, she felt safer knowing he was in the castle, something that would be able to protect her from all the youkai and acolytes that made her feel so small.

—

Her resolve to begin learning began to flourish. She poured through resources. Every year was a circle of eating, learning, speaking, sleeping.

Her grandfather rejoiced, her mother accepted that ‘baseball star’ transformed into ‘miko’.

She began to look forward to the July rites, seeing Kouga to ask him what was true, what was a lie. He took pleasure in her growing strength, as if he had some personal hand in training that thing, that odd little spark that made her different from other humans, that was her reason for being part of the rite at all.

—

She was taken again at her fourteenth year, and she moved through the rites and rituals leading up to the morning of, endured the week of fasting with something skirting excitement.

But the morning they were to cross the bridge, something happened, and they didn’t.

She was sent home without going to the castle at all.

Unsure of what the cause was when no one would speak, when no one would even look at one another, she resolved to learn more, to do more. Her own ignorance chaffed as she was packed away in a car and sent home, punished for some unknown deed.

—

The next year, her fifteenth year, the was a new face, and she wondered that she recognized the acolytes well enough to know the new face. A fresh faced boy, younger than her by a few years. A priest she’d known, flirtatious and outrageous in turn, was missing.

As if determined to fill the void left, the priests surrounded their new brethren, made it impossible to speak to him.

Kouga found her wandering, the castle itself feeling new for the extended absence. Allowing him to lead, she accepted the plate before they even made it to the door.

“What happened last year?” She murmured once they’d sat down.

“One of the humans dropped out,” He groused, toeing off his expensive shoes, scuffing them. His socks followed, graceless piles ignored with a relieved sigh.

“What does that have to do with anything?” She demanded, ridding herself of the clogs and socks she’d been given to wear especially for the day.

“Numbers. For them there have to be certain numbers to make a proper bridge.”

She knew, in generalities, that the youkai and acolytes were a supposed bridge. SHe just hadn’t expected it to be so literal.

“So they didn’t get to see eachother last year?”

“No.”

“That’s so sad,” SHe whimpered, realizing. With learning had come understanding of her significance, that her presence, the rites and fasting were to help the miko see her beloved. But it was only the absence, the disruption of her habit that she understood the implications of their ritual. “This is-”

“Shit,” Kouga muttered. “Don’t cry.”

Blinking the sting of tears back and took a deep breath, tossed bits of food over the side of the bridge, the twining of the serpents beneath the water rippling. “How often does it happen?” She finally managed, proud of herself for keeping the sniff out of her voice.

“About every decade. Someone, a youkai or priest refuses, or dies last minute, or something,” He muttered, sounding annoyed, as if it was a personal inconvenience. She supposed it was, to be dragged into something only to be told last minute it was canceled. Still, not as awful as it must have been for Kikyo and Inu Yasha.

She nodded, gingerly picking at the food offered to her.

“Are you still using magic?”

“I do,” She admitted shyly.

“Show me,” He demanded lightly, chin tilting in challenge.

“Only if you tell me what kind of magic ookami can do,” She retorted, flushing.

“Fair’s fair,” He chuckled, getting to his feet and shrugging off his blazer.

She watched as he jumped effortlessly, moving from place to place as if transporting himself.

“How are you doing that?” She demanded, surprised when he reappred in front of her, practically towering over her, making her feel small.

“I’m very fast,” He boasted.

“That’s not magic,” She dismissed, watching him practically bristle. “That’s just natural talent.”

His exasperation abruptly shifted, and he was practically preening, and she couldn’t fathom why.

—

There was something different about him when she meet him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he just seemed- More. It felt like she was leaning in to him.

“Kouga,” She greeted.

“Miko,” He rumbled, plate of food in hand. “You remembered the way this time.”

“It only took me a decade,” She huffed, accepting the plate of food.

“So what crazy shit do you want to ask me this year?”

She bit back a grin. “I read a story about the goraishi.”

“That thing?” Kouga laughed. “I haven’t even thought of that in years.”

“Is it real?”

“Maybe. A legend, at the very least.”

“Well I mean, you’re a legend, aren’t you?”

“I am,” He retorted smugly.

“Arrogant,” She laughed. “Tell me about the pack.”

—

She felt something nervous, trilling when she walked into the castle. Clinging closely to another miko, she made light conversation.

She followed directions precisely, going to the chambers where the others slept. No one had arrived, and her stomach rumbled plaintively. Flush with shame and mortification, she curled into herself.

—

She noticed Ginta and Hakkaku in the hall and turned, determined to avoid them, to avoid all of the youkai. Hopefully there was a grid pattern. She tried to keep herself oriented.

As if punishing her, Kouga found her wandering, desperate to find the stairs that would take her to the rooms reserved for the miko.

“Lost?”

“As usual,” She hedged, refusing to let him take the lead, forcing him, however unwillingly, to follow.

“Didn’t see you last year,” Kouga observed.

She shrugged. “I was tired.”

“You okay?”

“I’m tired,” She lied.

KOuga stiffened, pale gaze growing colder. “So that’s how it is.”

Her face burned and she turned on her heel, heard him muttering something behind her.

That night she ignored protocols, ignored the rules, exhausted by tossing and turning and slipped out of their rooms and down into the palace. She could hear people debating, drinking, joking in different rooms she passed. Human and youkai, one or another or both she couldn;t guess. Surely she wasn’t the only human wandering the castle.

The garden was beautiful in the darkness, the moonlight shining down on it. She moved over to the bridge and knelt, staring out at the water. Even in the darkness the serpents twisted around one another, moving under her shadow as if anticipating food. Guilt gnawed, even as she knew it was irrational. The one day she was there was not their only source of sustenance.

She felt the youkai before she heard them, turned and saw the pair that followed Kouga around. They both had plates piled high with food.

“Kouga’s in a mood,” Hakkaku said, sitting on one side of her.

“Says you don’t like youkai anymore,” Ginta added, taking his place on her other side.

“That’s not it,” She muttered, turning away from the moon’s reflection in the water.

“Oh, we know,” Ginta chuckled. “He’s being oversensitive. I think he was hurt you avoided him last year. Too dumb to see what’s right in front of him.”

Heat burned her face at the quiet acknowledgment of what she’d hoped to keep a secret.

“Eat, little sister,” Hakkaku urged. She picked at the plate.

“How is the pack?” She asked quietly.

They spoke, filled in gaps, answered questions about wolves she’d only every heard of, but knew well enough to inquire about, to feel happy for or grieve the loss of. Sounds seemed even louder in the semi darkness, each piece of food dropping into the water louder than before. Even the ookami’s voices couldn’t drown it out.

“How is he doing?” She finally asked.

“Same old, same old,” Ginta huffed.

“I don’t hate any of you,” She promised as she got to her feet.

“We didn’t think you did. He’s just an idiot.”

“You should tell him to stop then, She huffed.

“You should tell him yourself.”

“Maybe next year,” She hedged.

—

“No food?” She taunted lightly. It was almost dark, and she’d waited on the bridge all day.

“Didn’t know if you’d be out here,” He threw out lightly.

She could tell it was a lie, but unlike him didn’t have the courage to call him on it.

“I’m not like the ones that hate youkai.”

“Then what gives?”

She’d spent a year preparing herself, and felt, maybe, that she believed what she was about to say. “I had a crush on you.”

Kouga was extremely quiet. She glanced over at him and managed a weak smile.

“I know, okay? Teenage girl, crush on a billion year old youkai-”

“Make me sound like a cradle robber,” He groaned, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I was embarrassed. But I’m over it,” She said with ease born of repetition. “I’m sorry.”

Kouga made an ambivalent sound, then began to get to his feet.

“You’re really going to run away from a teenage girl?”

“No, I’m going to get you some food,” He muttered. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The truth out, and buried at the same time. She relaxed, stared down at the water, the seperents following her feet as she kicked them back and forth.

When he came back, he had two plates.

“So now that you’ve had a crush on me, do I at least get to know your name?”

“No,” She taunted. “Tell me about the pack.”

When the sky lightened to predawn, and the monk and priests and priestesses began to wake, she yawned and stepped back into the castle, Kouga still leaning against the railing of the bridge.

—

“Tell me your name,” Kouga tried, for the first time that year.

“No. Tell me about the pack,” She demanded, nibbling on a piece of fruit.

“Tell me about your life,” He rebutted swiftly.

She’d told him bits and pieces, but not much. Certainly nothing like the life he told her about.

“I’ve started university.”

“Oh?”

“History major,” She said, shrugging. “Nothing interesting, I guess.”

“Tell me,” He commanded.

She began speaking, haltingly, shy of her life in comparison to his. But he nodded and laughed, asked questions. Hen she told him about her professors arguing with her about minute details of prior eras based on things he’d told her, he howled, clutching his stomach and bent double, gasping for breath.

It hit her then, that her crush hadn’t left. She’d known it hadn’t but she’d thought it buried. But his open, honest laughter brought it back up, out of the depths. It felt deeper than it had, as if denying it had only allowed it to grow without notice.

She quickly thought about Hojo and even finally told Kouga about him.

“He thinks I get sick for the same month every year,” She laughed. “My grandfather has been telling him all these outrageous illnesses are the cause. I’d feel bad, but I keep telling him it’s too much,” She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“He’s trying to take care of you,” Kouga said, still grinning. “In the way he knows how.”

“I don’t want him to though, I’ve told him. He just doesn’t really seem to get it.”

“I mean, he believes you have exotic illnesses the same time every year,” Kouga reminded her, as if it were obvious. And it was, not that she wanted to acknowledge it.

“Tell me about Ginta and Hakkaku,” She huffed, changing the subject.

A year of stories, of Ginta and Hakkaku and the pack unfolded, filled an entire night and trailed into the lightening sky of predawn. Instinct tugged at her, the quiet sounds of dozens of feet beginning to move alerting her to the time.

“What’s your name?” Kouga asked, lopsided smile only more crooked for his fatigue.

“No,” She yawned,getting to her feet. “Maybe next year.”

—

She went through the days, excited to see him again.

The morning she was to cross the bridge, she was sent home instead, stuck in the back of a nondescript car, a year of stories bottled up in her lungs, trapped by disappointment.

It only strengthened her resolve to continue learning throughout the year, to have something worth telling him again. —

The next year, she recognized everyone in the shrine as they prepared themselves for the rite.

When they arrived, she couldn’t help but notice the tiny youkai, little more than a child slinking in corners, hugging the wall and staring up at people with an obvious resentment that reminded her of being small, and lonely, and frightened.

Slowly making her way across the room, unobtrusively moving closer under the guise of greeting other acolytes, she finally got close enough to him to catch his gaze. “Hey, I think I know where some food is,” She whispered, offering her hand.

The kitsune didn’t take it, but he did follow her out to the bridge. Filling the air with amiable, inconsequential chatter, she took a seat, giving him plenty of room. The serpents moved beneath her feet, catching the light in the water as if already anticipating their own feast.

“You said there was food.”

“There will be, soon,” She promised.”Is this your first year?”

“My dad died last year. I have to take his place.”

“I started when I was little too. I hated it,” She hummed, leaning back against the wooden post, slipping off the clogs and socks with a sigh of gratitude.

“Do you still hate it?”

“Not at all. I get to see my friends,” She told him brightly. “Since it’s only once a year, that makes it more special to me.”

Kouga came out, plates in hand. She waved to him and gave the kitsune a bright smile. “See?”

The two youkai eyed one another with disdain.

“Who’s the runt?” Kouga finally said, breaking the silence.

“Kouga!” She snapped even as Shippou moved closer to her side, gaze zeroed on Kouga, utterly defiant.

“Fine,” He grunted, legs folding gracefully beneath him, plates still held aloft. “Hopefully those two idiots bring some more food out.”

Shippou refused to budge from her side.

In short order Ginta and Hakkaku joined them, both juggling plates in both hands. If they were surprised by the addition of the kitsune, they didn’t show it. They all told stories about the pack, their lives from the past year. As the day wore on she felt Shippou slumping into her, slowly drifting until he was completely asleep. Tiny clawed fingers grasped at her hakama, refusing to let go.

“He said his father died, and he had to take his place,” She murmured quietly, running her fingers through the shock of red hair.

“There was a fight last year, right before the ritual. The thunder brothers killed his father. We have three new youkai this year.”

Shippou’s forced presence only seemed more cruel for it. “I didn’t realize something like that could happen.”

“It’s rare,” Kouga agreed. “As rare as a miko looking out for a kitsune.”

“Or an ookami looking out for a miko,” She teased, taking care to keep her voice quiet. “Why did you?”

“You were small and alone in the middle of a bunch of predators. That doesn’t sit well with wolves. Human or not. Same way it didn’t sit right with you.”

It hadn’t. “So you’re protecting me.”

“I used to. You don’t really need it anymore.”

She flushed, pleased that he recognized talents she’d cultivated, even if she rarely had occasion to use them.

“What’s your name?”

“Not this year,” She murmured, getting to her feet, Shippou’s quiet snores continuing, oblivious to the movement.

“You can’t take him up there. They won’t allow him entry.”

Kouga was right. She considered sitting back down, but he got to his feet, Ginta and Hakkaku getting up and stretching.

“Come on, I know a couple of spots,” He yawned.

She followed him through the castle, surprised when Shippou shifted, hands clinging to her shoulder, tangling in her hair.

“Youkai quarters, but no on will bother you here.”

“Thank you,” She whispered, kneeling on the futon. He closed the door, leaving her alone with the kitsune.

At dawn she managed a bleary goodbye to an equally muzzy Shippou, almost tripping over Ginta and Hakkaku on the way out. She murmured goodbye to them both, drifting out of the castle, half awake.

— Shippou found her before the procession had even ended, a splash of bright colors against the sea of black and white they wore over the bridge. She held out her hand in anticipation, smiling as he took it. No one said anything, but she couldn’t miss the glances she received as they walked into the castle.

The pair drank their tea, and she was going to leave when she noticed Shippou staring across the room at a young, female youkai with red eyes.

“Who is that?” She asked Shippou, looking at a little girl, or nearly girl, her bright red eyes and pointed ears marking her for what she was.

“Her brothers killed my father.”

She wondered if the youkai had been there the year before, if she’d been alone as they’d sat outside in the sun. “You’re angry at her.”

“Her brothers-”

“But not her,” She admonished gently. “Families don’t carry sin.”

Shippou frowned.

“She’s scared, and alone,” She urged gently.

She watched Shippou go over to the youkai, and waited patiently.

Shippou came back alone.

“She said no.”

“Okay,” She murmured, taking care to give the young youkai a smile before taking Shippou’s hand and walking to the garden.

Kouga met them out there, Ginta and Hakkaku in tow, all of them loaded down with plates.

They were speaking about light things when she saw the door open, a sliver of a face peeking through.

She gestured, waving her over.

“Hello,” She greeted. “We have lots of food.”

Souten gave her and Shippou both a wide berth, but ate in small bites, looking around her. Kouga continued to speak as if there had never been an interruption.

The day drew on, and both tiny youkai began to slump and snore.

“You’re collecting them,” Kouga sighed as he picked Souten up.

“They’re lonely,” She murmured. “I never asked, but do you all have to gather for a month beforehand?”

“No,” He muttered as they walked through the halls. “We’d probably kill eachother a few days in. We barely make it through the night before.”

“So just the night?”

“And tonight,” He reminded her, handing Souten to her.

He watched her tuck them in, slid the door shut and left her alone with them.

She woke at dawn, as she always did, and told the little youkai goodbye. She didn’t see Kouga to bid him farewell.

—

Shippou and Souten found her, ignoring the stares of other youkai and dragging her through the castle towards the gardens. For the first time she really noticed that she was being noticed. Youkai and acolyte alike stared openly, a mixture of emotions, none of them particularly good.

Kouga and his pair of seconds found them, their food in hand.

She listened to them all speak about their year, offered her own stories, acceptable congratulations for her degree, laughed and played with the children.

The sun began to set, and she followed Kouga and his seconds through the castle to an almost familiar room and tucked the children in. They slept on, their tiny snores and sighs filling the room. Restless, she finally gave in, ignored her shoes and padded barefoot to the door, almost tripping over Kouga when she tried to step into the hall.

“You’ll wake the kids,” He said quietly, giving her an amused smile.

“I couldn’t sleep,” She admitted.

She followed him back to the garden.

“You didn’t ask my name last year.”

“The kids. It seemed-” He verbally fumbled, letting it trail off as they sat.

“You didn’t want them to know you didn’t know,” She teased, staring at the still water, the unbroken half moon reflecting back at them.

“Yeah,” He admitted, giving her a lopsided smile. “Gonna tell me?”

“No,” She laughed. “I’ll tell the children first, let them tease you with it.”

“That’s harsh. I feed you,” He reminded her, leaning back against the rail, legs stretched out in front of him. She moved her legs, let them dangle over the water.

“Ginta and Hakkaku feed me,” She reminded him. “Maybe I’ll tell them too.”

“Figures,” He huffed, shaking his head.

“You’re still protecting me.”

Kouga nodded.

“I thought you said I didn’t need it.”

“You don’t.”

He stayed with her until predawn, neither of them saying much of anything. The sense that pulled at her, that understanding that it was time to go began to nag. She left Kouga on the bridge, walking through the castle to the children’s room. They both blearily woke while she bid them farewell, snuggling back into one another. She told Ginta and Hakkaku goodnight, not even sure when they had taken Kouga’s place at the door.

Kouga waited at the end of the hall.

“Goodbye, Kouga.”

“Next year.”

She took his hand, surprised by it’s heat, the roughness of it. It was the first time she’d touched him with intent, perhaps the first sustained touch they’d ever shared. Savoring that heat, she traced a figure onto his palm slowly, her fingertip lingering. “That’s the first character,” She murmured, hand dropping away.

His fist clenched, as if trapping the syllable in his hand. His gaze intent, she felt it following her until she was out of sight, felt sure that he was listening to her footsteps fade.

—

She was halfway lost in a meditative haze when she was prodded rudely, something bullying her out of a near trance. Shaking the remnants of the mantra off, she got to her feet and followed the rude blast of energy that repeated itself insistently, demanding her attention. A man waited at the end, just at the entrance to the temple.

She dimly recognized the man, but couldn’t place him.

“You saw me this past July,” He intoned. “I would speak with you.”

She followed him into the main shrine, letting him lead. That he was familiar with her shrine wasn’t all that surprising, even if she didn’t recognize him.

“I know what you’re doing. You cannot continue,” He said abruptly, gaze fasted on the altar.

“I beg your pardon.”

“You cannot seek Kouga out.”

“I don’t know what-”

The man turned and he was no longer a man, but a youkai she recognized. He always stood so close to the front, just behind Inu Yasha.

“For his safety and yours, you cannot look for him outside of the rite.”

“Why?” She demanded.

“It will destroy you both.”

“Will you kill us?” She demanded.

“What will happen will be worse than death. I say this as a kindness, do not seek him out.”

“Why,” She tried again. “Why can’t we- Why can’t I-” She couldn’t force the words out.

The amber gaze was full of regret. “There are unspoken rules to this rite. It is not a game we play. It is older than most of my brethren, even me, and comes with a high cost.”

“You have to know, please tell me,” She tried, struggling around a breathe that couldn’t escape.

“I can’t,” He told her, and the sorrow was so great that she believed him.

“What if I quit?”

“That is your right. But you will never see him again.”

She punched him, flares of power flowing through her hands as she tried to push him back. He let her, barely seemed affected as she shoved and punched and slapped, furious tears burning her vision, stinging her eyes.

“You can’t keep him from me.”

“Even if you quit this rite, you will still destroy him. You are both bound in this.”

“Get out,” She commanded, unsure of what emotion was seething, swirling and tangling inside of her.

He paused at the door. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

—

For the first time, she saw the miko in red, the woman that led their procession every year. It had never occurred to her to seek Kikyo out, even to speak to her. Every time she had seen her, she had been accompanied by someone, if not multiple people all speaking to her.

“You’re the garden miko, with the little youkai,” KIkyo stated. It was toneless, without approval or condemnation.

“I am,” She mumbled, moving to retreat. There was a coldness about Kikyo, her gaze withdrawn even as she stared at her.

“Walk with me.”

Unsure if she could deny the lead of the rite, she began following.

“You seem anxious,” Kikyo observed.

“I feel like I’ve been told the stories and rites my whole life,” She admitted finally. “But what I know isn’t enough.”

“You resent it.”

“Yes,” She admitted. “Don’t you? Being forced to play the figurehead, year after year-”

“I am no figurehead,” Kikyo murmured. “Inu Yasha was my love.”

Her heart burned for the knowledge. “You both- And you only see each other at the rite?” A quiet nod was her only response. “Don’t you hate it?”

Kikyo’s gaze was sharp, coming into focus. “I do. I think I hate him now. I know he cannot bear the sight of me.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Why would you do it?”

“Someone must.”

“That’s awful,” She managed around the thickness in her throat. Horrific.

Kikyo said nothing.

—

She was close to the front, close to Kikyo when they walked over the bridge. She saw the white haired demon towards the front behind the inu youkai clothed in red. She followed Kikyo to the tea room, and watched her and Inu Yasha as they faced one another, taking a sip of tea. Souten and Shippou were already at her knees, grabbing her hands. She made herself stay, just long enough to see how they looked at one another once they had completed the first step of the rite.

Resignation, hatred, sorrow, longing.

She walked out to the bridge with the two little youkai, barely hearing their chatter.

It was with an iron will that she smiled at the ookami that sat around them, laying out a veritable picnic.

Ginta and Hakkaku took the children in a game of tag, running around the garden with them, their cheers and shouts echoing and filling the enclosed space. She watched, trying to soak in their easy peace.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Not now,” She murmured, not meeting his gaze. “Tonight.”

Kouga nodded, respecting it. He began chatting aimlessly, letting his accounting of the year meander. The children came back, told them about their own year.

The children fell asleep, as they always did. Ginta and Hakkaku carried them into the castle.

“What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t even sure how to begin. “Do you ever think about the next year?”

Kouga was quiet for several minutes, staring at the water. The serpents were barely shadows, too deep in the water to discern movement. “Every morning after,” He finally admitted, as if imparting some great secret.

“That’s all?”

“I mean it. Every morning, until the day we come back.”

The immensity of the statement settled in her chest, intensifying the ache.

“I don’t want us to hate each other,” She said quietly. “I don’t want this to become some twisted ritual where we can’t stand the sight of each other.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Kouga argued, just as quiet.

“You don’t even know my name,” She managed through a wet laugh, plosive and hopeless.

“I’m patient.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am when it’s worth it.”

Exhausted, drained by a tension that had followed her for months, she sagged, leaned into him and tried to soak in some of his warmth, his strength. His arm opened, spanned her back and pulled her closer into his side.

She woke next to the children, unable to remember when she got there.

She kissed them both goodbye, breathed promises against their foreheads, swearing to see them next year.

Ginta and Hakkaku were outside the door, and she bid them farewell, unsurprised at their solemn gazes.

Kouga waited at his spot at the end of the hall. She stopped in front of him, took his hand and traced out the second character to her name. He kept her fingers held fast.

“You have a year,” He told her. “To decide. If you don’t show, I’ll understand.”

“A year,” She agreed, wondering if it would be long enough to decide.

—

When her escort came to take her to the shrine, she went, still unsure if she would make it to the end of the month.

She went through the rituals, the rites, prepared herself.

She avoided Kikyo, felt the miko’s gaze on her throughout the final week, as if the woman was always there.

The morning of the procession, she considered going to Kikyo, asking her how long it had taken her love to twist into anguish. How long it would take to hate the person she spent a year thinking about.

Except she had spent years before thinking about him, and it was that thought that gave her pause, gaze fastened on the pattern of a tatami. She spent a year creating memories, always with the intent to share them with him. She had spent most of her adult life like that, and it was only when she was told she couldn’t have more that she’d resented.

If it was all she could have, it was certainly more than never seeing him again, of creating memories knowing she would never share them with him.

She walked over the bridge and saw the youkai waiting, saw Kouga staring directly at her and felt excitement trill through her.

Excitement, and not dread, not sorrow or hate or resentment. Joy.

She followed the procession into the castle, watched Kikyo and Inu Yasha and let her heart ache for two people that had lost their meaning, given in to grief instead of joy.

Shippou and Souten ran ahead of her to the bridge, chattering animatedly.

“You made it,” Kouga said as he sat plates down around them. Ginta and Hakkau followed suit.

“I did,” She agreed.

Everyone chattered, spoke, laughed, children playing tricks on one another. The picnic felt livelier than before, both children bordering on rambunctious as they tore through the garden, Ginta and Hakkaku, even Kouga giving in and chasing them, wearing them out with games.

She took the children in, tucked them in and waited for them to fall asleep.

KOuga was waiting for her, took her through winding hallways, the long, circuitous route through the castle, closer to the garden entrance.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” She admitted as they finally stepped into the garden.

She took his hand, carefully traced out the last character of her name.

He breathed it, as if unsure of it’s pronunciation. He repeated it again, wonder and awe woven into her name.

“Even if it’s just one day a year,” She said carefully, feeling vulnerable even though she trusted his feelings, trusted him. “It’s enough to last every morning, every night in between.”

She’d kissed before, been kissed, been held. But Kouga holding her felt warmer, headier than anything she could remember. His relentless warmth, the heat of him scalded her mouth, pressed into her. The thing that had been slowly building between them, the thing she had held quietly throughout the year, letting it slowly transform finally settled into what anticipation had created years ago.

Kouga breathed her name into her mouth, against her neck, groaned it into her shoulder.

Even as they pulled at one another’s clothes, as she clung to him, moaned into his mouth she knew she would have to leave him in the morning.

Determined to keep it all, she let herself drown in his scent and his sounds and the feel of his skin.

Overwhelmed by him, she accepted that it was enough.

—

They woke to dawn, the first true dawn she could remember seeing within the castle walls. Kouga was draped over her, her kimono the only thing covering them, their clothes an uncomfortable pile tangled beneath and between them. Wondering if they’d been discovered and she’d been left, the acolytes finally severing ties with her she scrambled, moving for her clothing and pulling her undershirt over her head.

Kouga frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s too quiet.”

“What do you mean?”

“The castle sounds empty.”

That couldn’t be right. She let him drape his blazer over her shoulders as she tied her hakama, praying that no one had seen them passed out, half naked on the bridge. She followed him inside, began weaving a path to the children’s room. They were still there, blissfully unaware in slumber. Ginta and Hakkaku were in a corner, also asleep.

They began going through other rooms, realizing that there were signs of life left behind, but no youkai, no priests or priestesses. Food and drink left on tables, futon with obvious signs of use but no one left in them. Their footsteps couldn’t fill the silence.

“This is eerie,” She admitted, shaken by the echoing of the castle.

“It’s anticlimatic, isn’t it?” A voice asked, startling her, Kouga’s hand tightening around hers as if he too had been taken unawares.

“You,” She accused, recognizing the youkai.

“The curse is over,” He informed them. “The rite is complete.”

She glanced up at Kouga, saw only suspicion. “I don’t understand,” She told the youkai, holding her lover’s hand tighter.

“In the way of most things, a curse became a legend, became a myth that we only half understand,” The youkai sighed. “So old even the oldest of my kind barely remember. Many failed, and they were turned into-” He made a sad sound. “The main actors, the puppets you both saw. I don’t even know the specifics of the curse,” He admitted. “But the conditions were met, whatever they were,” He finished with a quiet bitterness.

“How do you know?”

“The curse kept one in stasis, unaging, immortal. My son and his mate are dust.”

Kikyo and Inu Yasha. His son. “I’m so sorry,” She murmured, realization dawning. His son.

“It’s over. That has to be enough.”

“And everyone is gone?”

“Except the children and the ookami.”

“You knew.”

“I have watched it play out many times,” The youkai admitted. “You come to recognize the signs. You two were all but said and done.”

“And you warned us,” Kouga said, finally speaking.

He nodded.

“Thank you,” She breathed, relief crashing through her.

The rite was finished. Why and how- What the rules had even been seemed irrelevant. It was over, and her nighttime vows felt almost mellowdramatic in the growing sunlight.

The youkai left them like that, watching the dawn come through the open doors, creeping inside and casting shadows. The children found them, blinking blearily as Ginta and Hakkaku followed.

“They’re going to need a place to stay,” Kouga sighed.

Children.

“They-You, should probably meet my mom.”

“Think we can convince her they’re ours?” Kouga joked. “She can’t hate me if I’ve already given her grandbabies.”

“Clearly you have no idea how human mothers work,” She snorted.

—

The next year, she felt a nauseous, queasy feeling as the calender drifted closer to July. But the day her escort was supposed to fetch her, no one appeared.

She spent the month quietly anxious, jumping at shadows. It wore on both of them, on the children.

The day arrived, and she walked into her dining room to find a two cups of tea sitting on the table.

She wanted to throw them, but Kouga took her hands, his claws tracing patterns on her flesh.

“Inu Yasha was my friend, once. He was the one to warn me first, to be careful.”

They’d spent a year learning each other all over again, creating context for what they’d only been able to speak of before. Meeting family and pack, seeing homes and workplaces, favorite restaurants and movies together. In all of that time he’d never revealed that Inu Yasha had been his friend. It was difficult to know what he might feel. Inu Yasha’s father had seemed almost grateful for his son to be free, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think that was the only thing either youkai felt about his death.

“I’m sorry you lost him.”

“The rite made him miserable, twisted the purest thing he’d ever known,” Kouga admitted, shoulders sagging. “He told me I was arrogant to believe it wouldn’t change us.”

“Do you know why he- How he was cursed?”

“They began the rite, then stepped outside of it. At least I think that’s what happened. He couldn’t actually tell me, but I know enough to guess.”

They’d probably sought one another out during the year. Hundreds of years tied to one another, their lives revolving around the focal point of a single day. No wonder they’d lost themselves to grief.

And she had almost done the exact same thing, had almost damned them to the same fate.

Gingerly picking up one of the cups, she nodded and waited for him to repeat the motion. Silently they both drank, an echo of their predecessor’s actions.

#sparks fly in july #sparks:wk1 #fanfic #kougome #kogkag #tofwbbe

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luxdea · 3 years

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( cute chiz | @corferox )

he enjoys the quiet moments ; the ones that happen in the later hours of the day, after they've finished their daily tasks & can simply relax while the sun disappears over the horizon outside. he looks over the shiekah slate, plotting their travel course for the following day, all while she reads through a book, her head resting comfortably in his lap. separate, but together, cozy & serene, & he can't help losing himself in it, fingers idly combing through her hair & a gentle song wordless on his lips : a quiet hum. it takes him a moment to realize that he doesn't actually know this song, for it's not one he recognizes from his travels. no — it feels older, the song pulling from some hidden memory within his subconscious. he doesn't fight it. whatever it is, it reminds him of a lullaby, which feels most fitting in the moment, &, as he continues threading his fingers through zelda's hair, he finds that it somehow reminds him of her, & of these gentle moments in between.

SHE HAD NEVER dared to dream of a life as perfect as this one.

THERE HAD ALWAYS been this...assumption about her future. there were only two options, really. upon sealing away ganon, she would begin learning to take her father’s place. her research would have to fade into the background in favor of her duties as the future sovereign, & she would enter a loveless marriage–––– though she had dreamed of the possibility of her father allowing her to marry for love, since he & her mother had been able to, & she’d hoped that his pride in her sealing the calamity would grant her at least some freedoms–––– & would live out her days as hyrule’s queen.

THE SECOND, MORE morbid option, was that she never unlocked her power & died as the calamity decimated her home. it hadn’t been an option she wanted to entertain, but it had always been there in the back of her mind, waiting for the moment where she was alone in the dark of her room to rear it’s ugly head.

TO HER SURPRISE, neither of those things had happened. the sealing of the calamity had been a hundred years in the making. & now, in a peaceful hyrule in a new century, she had the opportunity to wonder if she wanted to rule at all.

LINK HAD MADE the falling in love concern quite easy–––– lucky her.

THEY HAD TAKEN to doing more things together, even if they’re not doing the same things. it had been just the other day when she’d realized. sitting by the fire, her most recent research notes open in her lap so she could write by it’s light, her side had been pressed gently into link’s own, who had been at the fire to cook that night’s meal. though they were facing in opposite directions, they never relinquished the touch. she hadn’t even noticed until he had asked her for a preliminary taste of their meal, & her head had turned to find it was mere inches from his own.

SHE HAD SILENTLY blamed the flush of her cheeks on the heat, though she’d known even then that hadn’t been the truth.

SINCE THEN, SHE had begun to notice how often such positions worked their way into their daily duties. &, despite how flustered the realization made her feel, she wouldn’t trade even a moment of it.

THESE WERE THE moments she treasured most, & this one was no exception. neither had said a single word to one another for at least the last half hour, but there was no need to. their presence was more than enough. she had initially been embarrassed by just how comfortable she had been resting her head on link’s lap, but he hadn’t seemed to mind–––– he’d been quite welcoming about it, in fact–––– & zelda was not going to be the one to break their connection.

HER EYES WERE already beginning to flutter, the peacefulness of the day & the comfort of link’s closeness starting to make her wish for a mid day nap. initially, she was determined to finish at least another chapter. even as the words got a bit blurry & she let out a soft yawn, that determination rang strong.

& THEN, LINK’S hand started brushing gently through her hair, already making the task of keeping her eyes open even more difficult. a song, familiar & soft, began to leave his lips in a gentle hum, &, for a moment, her surprise won over her exhaustion.

SHE KNEW THAT song. it was like an old friend, familiar & sweet, & instantly memories were brought forth. her father, humming it into her hair as he carried her late in the night after a nightmare, walking back & forth along the windows. her mother, wordlessly singing as she tucked her in, only stopping long enough to press a kiss to her forehead.

HERSELF, PRESSING HER palms to her arms in a hug that did nothing for comfort, trying to warm herself after yet another failed attempt at a spring. the notes coming out through trembling lips & haggard breaths as she cried, trying in vain to console herself.

THAT SONG HAD been sung throughout the castle halls in the name of the princess for many years. much longer than she’d been alive. though the words had been lost to time, the melody had endured, & it had once been well known to any who spent time on the castle grounds.

SHE WONDERED IF he remembered.

A PART OF zelda desperately wanted to ask. but, with the moment of surprise gone, her fatigue had returned, amplified by the song of her childhood & the tender motion of link’s hand in her hair. her eyes fluttered again, fighting a brief, losing battle as they shut.

COMFORTABLE IN THE company of one she loved & a familiar spirit of her childhood, she fell into a gentle sleep. deep with nothing but pleasant dreams of a life she had never thought she’d get to live.

#corferox #⌜corferox –––– do not go far from me⌝#⌜ASKS –––– we still have much more to learn.⌝#⌜ZELDA ANSWERS –––– playing at being a scholar.⌝#⌜VERSE 5 –––– so much and yet so little has changed.⌝#[ you said keep the title cute chiz so guess what? it stays lmao ]

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crazycat-88 · 4 years

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Male Dragon Ode x Male Reader Part 1 (SFW)

This one is set in a medieval(ish) high fantasy style setting, it’s plot heavy and already sitting at 5,455 words.

Content: Mentioned - War, Death, Murder & Injury. Also contains Disturbing Imagery. Part 1 is SFW but there is an underlying hint of sexual themes.

On that note, please enjoy!

It was the sound of the warning bells ringing that woke you from your slumber and after dressing you hurried outside where the villagers were screaming and running in all directions in fear, falling all over each other in their panic. A glance up at the sky revealed the reason for such panic and confusion. Dragons. With two of them on the horizon and closing in fast, it was no wonder the villagers were hysterical.

Hearing the chink of armour and of swords being unsheathed, you turned to watch as a group of the kings knights raced towards the dragons. You considered drawing your own sword in aid but you were no knight and you had no desire to die today. Instead you tried to help your neighbours, many of which were to hysterical to seek shelter and many stood frozen watching the chaos unfold.

Fortunately, it seemed that neither dragon was interested in the village itself and as one stood fighting the knights and batting them away like flies, the other headed straight towards the castle sailing high over the defences and crashing straight into the north tower. You were too busy to see what the dragon was after but not ten minutes had passed when suddenly it was all over.

The village itself was unscathed and the villagers only injuries had been caused by their own hand. The knights were not so fortunate, many of whom had to be carried on stretchers to the village hospital. It was surprising that there were very few casualties, with two dragons you’d have expected more carnage, and you wondered what had brought on this attack. It had been years since the dragons that lived up on the mountains had come down to this village, despite the ongoing war between your two species.

It hadn’t always been this way. When you were a boy, dragons had been an everyday sight. The dragons had been your kingdom's allies and the king and his knights would ride the dragons into battle. It had been your dream as a child to become a knight and be a dragon rider, but then everything changed and war had broken out. The details of why were unclear, the king had said that the dragons had betrayed the kingdom but the dragons claimed the opposite had happened.

Many rumours had spread through the kingdom as to the reason for the war, some had merit, while others were completely ridiculous. Whatever the truth, the day the war had broken out you knew four things for certain; One - The queen was dead, having died giving birth to the princess. Two - The leader of the dragons was dead, killed by the king himself. Three - You would never become a dragon rider, and four - The dragons who were once cherished and revered, were now hated and feared and had returned to their homes in the mountains or had left to new lands.

No one was sure how many dragons remained in the mountains, they were rarely seen and the knights and squires that ventured up there in the hopes of bringing back a dragons head rarely returned. The lucky few that did never spoke of seeing more than one, likely the reason they had survived the trip. Taking on one dragon was stupid, taking on more was suicide. Still it seemed every month produced a new, young, foolish squire that ventured up there with the hopes of coming home to be knighted by the king for their supposed strength and bravery.

You had never become a squire, your mother did not have enough coin and no knight had been willing to accept you as their page due to a slight limp you had acquired from an accident as a young boy. Instead you had become a mercenary, a soldier available to hire for the right price. You rarely worked with a crew, finding the other local mercenaries lacking in morals. A little hypocritical perhaps but still, there were things even you were unwilling to do.

--------

The following morning you caught sight of a group of knights making their way up to the mountains. The dragons must have really upset the king this time you thought as you watched their progress until they were out of sight. The knights returned the following day, the group half its original size and those left sporting a number of injuries. This went on for three days, until finally on the fourth, you and every other mercenary in the kingdom were called to stand in the king's banquet hall.

You stood there waiting, gazing around in discomfort. It was the first time you had ever entered the castle and you were not expecting to see mounted heads of dragons decorating the walls. You had heard rumours that the king had gone mad with both rage and grief after the death of the queen but you had never been one to put much stock in rumours. Perhaps you should of you think, cringing at the sight before you. Your fellow mercenaries seemed just as disturbed as you and you all shifted uncomfortably while waiting to discover why you had all been called there.

The king had not been seen outside of the castle for years and you are surprised to see him looking so old and haggard when he makes his entrance surrounded by guards. His voice is strong however as he welcomes you and he states that he has called you all here for an important mission. He claims his daughter, the princess, has been taken by the dragons and he asks that you all journey to the mountains to rescue her. He offers a high reward for her safe return and you listen as the men murmur amongst themselves.

It is not a job you would usually accept having no interest in taking on a dragon, however when one of the men refuses the job outright it is made clear that it is an order and not a request after all. The men gathered wisely stay quiet after that but you wonder just how many will abandon the quest once you reach the mountains. As you leave the castle, the king makes one last request, he asks that when you do find the princess, you do not look upon her. With that confusing request he leaves the hall followed by his guards.

On your journey to the mountain the men talk amongst themselves, separating naturally into groups. You end up riding alongside a crew that had just been passing through the kingdom and had no intention of actually going up the mountain. They were quiet, a stark contrast to the crew riding ahead of you, who are jovial about going up the mountain. This crew are locals and you can hear them boast to others about having faced dragons before and it being an easy job causing you to snort dubiously.

‘‘I’d heard the rumours that your king had lost his mind but I didn’t believe it until today… I’m Gadaric by the way,’’ says the half orc next to you. ‘‘And these boys are Frederic, Laodamas and Meuric,’’ he continues, pointing to each of the men as he introduces them. Nodding to each of the men, you introduce yourself.

‘‘Do you plan on going up the mountain?’’ Frederic asks you quietly.

‘‘I suppose I’ll have to if I wish to return home,’’ you reply. You do consider leaving it all behind but there is also the matter of the princess’s life. While you do not know her, you feel obliged to at least try and save her.

‘‘Good luck,’’ Gadaric says. ‘‘I’ve gone up against dragons in the past and it's never ended well.’’

‘‘Thank you. I'm hoping to avoid the dragons to be honest,’’ you reply.

‘‘That’s your best bet. Let the others cause a distraction, then sneak in, save the princess and get the hell out of there,’’ Frederic whispers.

You just nod at him in agreement. Honestly that had been your plan, you had no desire to face down a dragon. You may be skilled with a sword but you did not believe yourself competent enough to take down a dragon. You also had no desire to kill such a creature, you had always thought them to be magnificent and majestic, and you knew they were capable of great acts of kindness. It had been a dragon that had saved your life when you had your accident. Your whole life you had felt conflicted when you thought of the dragons, you knew they were now your peoples enemy and that you were at war with them but you couldn’t separate the new knowledge from the old feelings.

As you approach the base of the mountain, the men break off into two groups. The crew you were talking with leaves riding East towards the next kingdom and many of the other men move to follow them. You knew many of the men wouldn’t stay but you are still surprised when only eight of you remain to make your way up the mountain.

‘‘Why do you think the king asked for us not to look at the princess?’’ One of the men asks quietly.

‘‘Maybe she’s really ugly,’’ laughs another loudly. You recognise this one as a local mercenary, who’s always been a brute with no morals. He’s also the one that boasted of killing a dragon before, though you’re confident that he was talking out of his arse.

‘‘Or… maybe the rumours about her are true,’’ says another one of the men.

‘‘What rumours?’’ asks the only non-human left amongst you.

‘‘They say she isn’t the king's daughter… that she isn’t completely human,’’ answers one of the men.

‘‘Wh-what?’’

‘‘Who says?’’

‘‘That’s all utter bull crap.’’

‘‘You’d believe anything.’’

Everyone speaks at once. Some of the men are guffawing loudly, and one pushes another. If they carry on at this rate the dragons will you hear you coming a mile off. That is assuming they don’t already know you’re here.

‘‘Everyone shut up! Do you want them to know we’re coming,’’ hisses one man, echoing your thoughts.

It’s far too late though, as just as he gets the last word out, you all hear a mighty roar and a large green dragon appears breathing fire towards the group. Everyone scatters, with some of the men ducking behind rocks, others raise their shields, draw their swords and race towards the dragon. Seeing this as an opportunity, you scan the rocks searching for an entrance to the tunnels and caves inside. Finally spotting one, you make a dash for it, reaching the entrance unscathed. None of the men follow you inside, which you’re glad of, but you do hope that the majority of them make it home in one piece.

Luckily the entrance does in fact lead to a tunnel, though it is tight and obviously not used by the dragons and you carefully squeeze your way through it. You know you are on the right track when you see the glow of firelight up ahead. Slowly, unsure of what you will find, you follow the glow, breathing slowly until you reach an opening in the tunnel. Beyond that, you find an enormous cavern and you can hear the rumbling snores of a dragon far too close for comfort.

Torches line the cave walls thankfully providing light, however you can still feel your heart pounding frantically as you search the cave for the source of the rumbling snores. You almost miss the dragon at first, your gaze skipping over him before you do a double take. He is lying fast asleep amongst his hoard of gold coins and other trinkets, the colour of him blending in to the rock like camouflage. You feel your heart skip a beat and the first word to come into your mind is beautiful.

He is magnificent and large, a grey-blue colour, with two long white curved horns upon his head. Two smaller white horns sit just beneath those, jutting out from the side of his head and on each of his four legs, he has a set of sharp white claws. His long neck, bat like wings and sharply pointed tail are tightly curled around his body while smoke billows from his nostrils as he continues snoring, your presence for now going unnoticed.

Shaking your head at your thoughts, you note that he is not one of the dragons that had attacked the kingdom, both of those had been green, and you see no sign of the princess here. Searching the large cavern for another exit, you curse internally when you see that the only other way out is directly behind the dragon and you consider your options. Do you try to get around the slumbering dragon to the opening which likely leads further into the caves and hopefully to the princess or do you go back out the way you came, not knowing what’s outside, and try to find another opening.

Deciding you’d rather face a sleeping dragon than the angry one outside, you press yourself close to the wall and cautiously inch your way along it. Every time the dragons rumbling changes in pitch, you stop holding your breath hearing your heart pounding in your ears. Just as you think that you are going to make it, the dragon suddenly snorts awake and his amber eyes open, his gaze narrowing when he sees you.

‘‘Human,’’ he growls, standing up on his four muscular legs, claws scraping over the stone.

Shit! You did not appreciate his sheer size until he stands facing you, he’s not the largest dragon you have ever seen but still, he’s double your size. You raise your shield but do not draw your sword, hoping if you do not pose an immediate threat he may not kill you just yet. Eyeing the opening you wonder if you should make a dash for it but he follows your gaze and blocks the way by unfurling his wings, caging you in.

‘‘Have you come for my head or my hoard?’’ He growls snarling, lips pulling back revealing his maw full of very sharp teeth.

‘‘Neither… I came for the princess,’’ you gasp, standing frozen with your heart pounding and gaze fixed on those teeth.

‘‘Ah... You’ve come for the girl. How chivalrous,’’ he rumbles, tilting his head to get a better look at you.

‘‘Do you know where she is?’’ You ask.

‘‘Perhaps…’’ he rumbles, sitting back on his haunches and folding his wings back.

You dare not move though, as his tail trails dangerously close to your body. Alert, as if waiting for any sudden movement.

‘‘Will you tell me where she is?’’ You ask him hopefully.

‘‘What makes you think she wants to be saved?’’ He rumbles in amusement, his tail twitching side to side, occasionally brushing against your legs.

‘‘Um… because she was kidnapped by a dragon?’’ You reply blinking, confused by the question.

‘‘Humans,’’ he growls in reply. ‘‘You are all the same, rushing in to save the day, assuming the worst.’’

‘‘I… Are you saying saying she doesn’t need saving?’’ You ask, shifting your weight uncomfortably. Since it appears that he has no intention of killing you, you relax a little and lower your shield.

‘‘Hmm… Would you believe me if I said yes?’’ He asks, watching your movements carefully.

‘‘I’d believe it if she told me herself,’’ you reply frowning.

He growls, tilting his head again, studying you for a moment, before rumbling, ‘‘Strange little human… engaging in conversation with the enemy… Do you not wish to see me dead?’’

‘‘No…’’ you say honestly. ‘‘Now can I speak to the princess or not?’’ You ask.

You manage to keep your voice steady, trying to sound braver than you feel but as he stands and lowers his head so that his snout is in front of your face, you can’t help but tremble wondering if he may just kill you after all. The heat that blows from his nostrils is stifling and you nervously break out in a sweat. Fortunately he just chuckles and turns towards the opening.

‘‘Follow me brave little human... and leave your sword and shield behind.’’

You watch him move, exhaling in relief as he leaves the cavern and you debate whether or not to trust him. Figuring if he was going to kill you, he would have done it already, you reluctantly drop your shield and sword, hoping you won’t regret leaving them behind and follow him through the opening which leads to another tunnel. As you quickly catch up with him, he lets out another rumbling chuckle which causes you to tremble for an entirely different reason, the sound of it vibrating through your body.

Trying to ignore it, you pay close attention to where you’re going, keeping track of all the twists and turns in the tunnel in case you need to make an escape later. Suddenly you make a turn into a tunnel which isn’t lit and as you move further along it the light from behind dies out, leaving you unable to see. You start to panic slightly, trying to see by sound but even the dragons footsteps are silent, and you stop, no longer following.

‘‘What’s wrong, why have you stopped,’’ the dragon rumbles a second later.

‘‘I can’t see,’’ you explain.

You gasp, tensing as you feel something wrap around your waist and touching it you feel the rough scales of what can only be the dragon's tail. He surprises you by tugging you towards him and you collide with the side of his body.

‘‘I forget you humans can’t see in the dark,’’ he rumbles quietly. ‘‘Just relax and let me lead the way.’’

Laying your hand on his side, you let him lead you through the tunnel, sighing when you realise that you will now be unable to get out of these tunnels on your own. Absently one hand strokes along his tail while the fingers on your other knead into the ridges on his side. You only realise what you’re doing when he rumbles out a noise which sounds strangely like a purr. You stop what you’re doing immediately, embarrassed, but fortunately the dragon doesn’t comment.

‘‘What’s your name,’’ you ask, trying to distract yourself and tired of referring to him as dragon.

‘‘Ode,’’ he rumbles in reply. ‘‘What is yours?’’

Telling him, you listen as he repeats it, before he chuckles, ‘‘I think I prefer little human.’’

Shaking your head, you walk the rest of the way in silence. It feels like you’ve been walking for miles, when eventually you see a light up ahead. Sighing in relief, your legs now sore and your limp more pronounced, you remove your hand from Ode’s side and step away slightly. You expect him to remove his tail from around your waist and you're surprised when he doesn’t, eyeing him subtly you watch as he continues you walking, not acknowledging that you have moved away or that he still has a hold of you.

The light leads into yet another tunnel, this one lined with torches, finally at the end of it is another cavern similar to the one you found Ode in, wide with high ceilings, and immediately upon entering your gaze goes to the large green dragon, who’s head swings in your direction growling. Then you notice the human standing beside the dragon and gasp.

‘‘Ode… Why have you brought a human here?’’ The distinctly female dragon growls.

You don’t hear Ode’s reply though as you’re to busy examining the only other human in the room, though perhaps human is the wrong word. She’s tall, with curved golden horns that sit above her ears, and skin that is dappled with black scales. Then you notice that she has digitigrade legs and a tail, also black, that curls behind her. You feel Ode’s tail leave your waist as you approach her slowly.

‘‘Princess Adelaide?’’ You murmur questionly.

You hear the dragon beside her growl at you and feel the heat of Ode behind you but are far to distracted looking into the eyes of the princess in front of you. It’s like looking into the eyes of a dragon and you cannot believe the rumours are true, that she is half dragon, but she nods in reply to your murmur before frowning.

‘‘You are not a knight,’’ she says.

‘‘No,’’ you agree. ‘‘And you are not what I was expecting either.’’

As the green dragon growls at you again, the princess runs her hand along her snout. ‘‘It is alright Estrild. It’s understandable that he is confused,’’ she says to the dragon before turning back to you. ‘‘Did the king send you?’’

‘‘Yes, he’s very concerned for your welfare princess.’’

‘‘I highly doubt that,’’ she snorts.

‘‘I… do not understand,’’ you murmur.

‘‘Come sit. Let me tell you a story,’’ she says, leading you over to sit by a stream that runs through the cavern. Both dragons follow behind you, and while Ode lies behind you, his head at your side, Estrild lies beside the princess laying her head over her lap. You watch this with interest, wondering just how close the two are.

Princess Adelaide then offers you a cup full of mead and you take it gratefully, sipping it slowly while you wait for the princess to get comfortable.

‘‘Hmmm... where should I start,’’ princess Adelaide mumbles, staring down at her cup.

‘‘The beginning is usually the best place princess,’’ Ode rumbles amusedly.

‘‘Thank you Ode,’’ she chuckles in reply. Then looking at you she continues, ‘‘My mother and the king were betrothed… they had no love for one another and that never changed. She was treated as a possession and while he was known for being a strong and fair king, he was not a good husband… My mother sought comfort elsewhere and found it with the Dragon leader Arthfael. They fell in love with one another but they tried to keep their relationship platonic, knowing it would be wrong for them to be together…’’ she says sighing, and then taking a drink.

‘‘One night they gave in to their desire and while they never regretted it, they swore to never let it happen again. Soon after, my mother discovered she was with child, but assumed it to be the kings, believing it impossible to be Arthfaels… When I was born, the king discovered the truth, he murdered my mother in a fit of rage and then Arthfael. It is unknown why he spared me, but he certainly did not raise me, I was kept locked in the north wing and whenever our paths crossed he treated me with derision’’ she sighs, her gaze unfocused.

‘‘How… how do you know all this?’’ You ask, stunned at her story.

Shaking her head and with her gaze focusing, she looks you in the eye. ‘‘My mother’s maid was her one true friend and confidant. She became my nanny and as I grew older I kept asking her questions about my mother, the dragons and why I was different. She eventually told me everything just recently.’’

‘‘And the dragons?’’ You ask questionly, glancing briefly at Ode and then Estrild.

The princess smiles and looks down at Estrild smiling and stroking her head, before saying, ‘‘They knew of Arthfaels love for the queen, when he was killed by the king they left for the mountains, the alliance over. They would have left it alone but the king, still mad with rage wanted every dragon to be punished… People say the king went mad after the queens death but servants in the castle would tell you he was always this way.’’

‘‘How did you come to know Estrild? And the other dragons?’’ You ask. Everything you had heard so far was interesting but it did not explain why the dragons would come for her now and how she seemed to close to Estrild.

‘‘I discovered a secret passageway out of the castle a year ago, I have been sneaking out, meeting with Estrild in secret,’’ she giggles. ‘‘They never knew I was Arthfaels child and you can imagine their surprise when I met them. I always returned to the castle though, my nanny is very much like my own mother... Then I got caught trying to sneak out one night and I was locked in my room. Estrild came for me with her brother Dew when I failed to meet her as we arranged… but I never expected it to cause all this trouble.’’

‘‘The king has sent most of his knights after you and now he’s moved on to mercenaries… He seems determined to get you back,’’ you say frowning.

‘‘He does not want anyone knowing the truth, nor does he want me to be happy,’’ she says sadly.

‘‘What will you do now?’’

‘‘Most of the dragons have already left these mountains to a land across the sea, the rest remaining are planning to leave in a matter of days and I am going with them.’’

‘‘What of the king? He’s going to keep sending men here after you,’’ you ask.

‘‘I know and I worry for the dragons if more come before we leave,’’ she says, frowning before suddenly sitting straighter with an excited look. ‘‘Will you return and report to the king that I am dead?’’ She asks hopefully.

‘‘I… You want me to lie to the king?’’ You ask, worried about the consequences of such an action.

‘‘He won’t know it is a lie. Please, ’’ she begs, and you find yourself unable to refuse especially with Estrild eyeing you like she might eat you if you do.

You spend a little more time there talking with princess Adelaide, you ask how she met Estrild and she asks what life in the village is like. Ode and Estrild mostly stay silent, only occasionally adding to the conversation. Dew, Estrild’s brother, eventually makes an appearance and you are introduced. It is evident that he was the dragon outside that took down the rest of the mercenaries and that he is most displeased to discover that you managed to evade him.

He is huge, the largest of the three, with only one eye and a broken horn. You leave soon after his arrival, feeling uncomfortable as he glares at you distrustfully. Ode escorts you, leading you back into the tunnel from which you came.

‘‘Did you injure your leg?’’ Ode asks, as he notices your limp.

‘‘No, it is an old injury. It has just been exacerbated by the journey here and by all the walking,’’ you explain.

‘‘Climb onto my back, I will carry you the rest of the way,’’ he rumbles, stopping and looking at you expectantly.

‘‘That is not necessary, I can manage,’’ you protest, though secretly you would love to ride him and feel your heart race at the prospect.

‘‘Get on,’’ he rumbles. ‘‘We will be in the dark again soon enough and you cannot see where you are walking.’’

‘‘Alright,’’ you say, withholding a grin. ‘‘You will have to help me up though.’’

He does so by wrapping his tail around your waist again and lifting you straight onto his back. You hold on tightly as he lets go and starts walking, finding it surprisingly comfortable. Now he is no longer looking at your face, you grin widely. It may not be the same as flying on a dragon but it certainly comes close.

‘‘Alright back there?’’ He rumbles questionly.

‘‘Yes, thank you Ode.’’ You reply, still grinning happily.

In the dark you stroke the scales on his back, finding them rough to the touch, while Ode rumbles a purr that seems to vibrate straight through you. The journey back to Ode’s cavern passes far quicker than you hope and you reluctantly slide down from his back when you reach the cavern and he stops laying down to aid your descent.

‘‘It is late, you should stay here for the night,’’ he rumbles.

‘‘I… well if you don’t mind, thank you,’’ you say, not liking the idea of traveling back to the village in the dark.

‘‘Not at all… it has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of another’s company.’’

‘‘What about the other dragons?’’

‘‘We tend to keep to ourselves… Dew and Estrild are the exception. I speak to them both on occasion but we are not close,’’ he explains, and you nod accepting this, knowing that dragons are generally solitary creatures. ‘‘There is a small stream towards the back of the cavern is you wish to bathe,’’ he says, standing and leading you over to the back of the cavern.

‘‘I would, yes,’’ you say, eager to clean yourself. After the journey here and walk through the tunnels you cannot imagine that you smell particularly fresh and you wonder if it bothers him.

‘‘I will get you a cloth that you can use to clean yourself and a cloak to wear,’’ he rumbles, moving around a protruding rock which is large enough for him to almost disappear behind it.

Removing your tunic in preparation, you are bare down to the waist and debating whether to remove the rest of your clothing, when he returns, bundles of cloth clutched in his claws. He stops when he sees you, his widening as he stares at your torso. You feel a thrill run through you as he eyes you in what seems like appreciation before cautiously approaching you and pushing the bundles towards you.

‘‘I will go hunt while you bathe,’’ he rumbles, before turning and heading out of the cavern, tail scraping along the stone.

Smiling you bathe before pulling on the cloak that he has brought you. While you wait for him to return, you have a look around the cavern finding it to be even larger than you first thought, with corners that lead to more areas that contain items of his hoard. Around one corner you find bundles of fabric which have been arranged into a makeshift nest.

When he returns, you help him build a fire on which to cook the meat he’s brought back with him. He may not need it cooked but you certainly do and as you do that you ask him about his life up here in the mountains and about what his life was like before the war. You sit by his side, comfortably leaning against him as you listen to him talk feeling his chest vibrate with every breath.

You are surprised to learn that he is considered young in terms of dragons but old enough that he has already had young that are now fully grown and have since left. He has been on his own ever since, hunting and sleeping the days away except for the brief time he spent with the humans. You have many questions for him and he answers them all patiently before he loses interest in speaking about himself and instead asks that you tell him more about your life in the village and the work you do.

‘‘So you’ve never battled a dragon then?’’ He asks, as you finish telling him about your previous jobs.

‘‘No, I’ve never wanted to. A dragon saved my life when I was a boy and…’’ you say, trailing off.

‘‘And what?’’

You chuckle self consciously. ‘‘He was my first crush. Strange I know but…’’ you say, turning to look at the fire.

‘‘Not so strange,’’ he rumbles amusedly, turning your head carefully with a claw. ‘‘Surely you noticed that the princess and Estrild are more than just friends. And I… I have always found you humans beautiful… so small and delicate.’’

‘‘Ode,’’ you whisper questionly searching his eyes, as you feel him shuffle slightly, wings twitching.

‘‘Get some sleep little human, you need it for the journey back tomorrow,’’ he rumbles standing. ‘‘It is more comfortable in my nest, come.’’

You frown as you follow him to the nest you saw earlier, confused at his sudden withdrawal. Not wanting to push your luck or upset him, you settle down in the nest, finding yourself yawning. You are tired and while you would rather be engaging in more interesting actively, sleep is the next best thing.

‘‘Stay?’’ You murmur questionly, as Ode turns to leave. He eyes you for a moment before laying down next you. When you tuck yourself closer in to him and stroke along his snout, he lets out a purr and wraps his tail around you.

‘‘Good night little human,’’ he rumbles, as quietly as a dragon can, sounding just as tired as you feel.

‘‘Goodnight Ode,’’ you murmur in response.

---------------

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drowning-in-dennor · 4 years

Text

Of Love And Loss

One evening, Henrik informs his lover of his human-hating father’s doings, and the boy he must return from exile because of it. [Set in the same universe as The Summer Side.] [Warning: Very fucking long] [Written for day five of @dennorweek with the prompt “fairytale”.]

After dinner, it is customary for Henrik to lead Stellan to the library, where they are to review his knowledge of the fair folk, of their history, their kingdoms, their culture. After all, Henrik says, it's only right for him to know how the crown he wears on his head and how the title he has been granted came to be. But tonight, when the dishes have been cleared away and he has thanked the attendants for their work, Stellan finds himself following his lover back to the bedroom.

The door closes behind them and a lock clicks. Henrik sits down at his grand desk and runs his hands over the pale carvings on the surface. Stellan takes his seat next to him, at an ornate chair carved with sloping hyacinths.

Out from a drawer, Henrik retrieves a book. It is old, its leather cover wrinkled and pages yellowing. He murmurs something, an incantation, perhaps, in the common tongue of the fair folk that Stellan is yet to fully understand. The book opens. It is only then that Henrik speaks to him. "This is going to be a long story."

He reaches over to cover Henrik's hand with his own, and his lover flushes - even after over a year of being together, he has yet to get used to such displays of affection. "We've got all night. Unless you keep me up until dawn with this story, it can't be too long."

A grin curves Henrik's lips, showing his jaunty, bright self that has so suddenly been clouded by pensiveness. "All right, then." He runs his fingers over the pages, and images swirl up from them like the ink from the paper has suddenly dissipated into the air.

The first image is that of a man. He resembles Henrik greatly, but where Henrik's smile and eyes have always been warm, this man's expression is that of coldness. He is wearing the same crown upon Henrik's head, an elaborate weaving of thornless roses. Stellan murmurs, "is that - "

"My father." Henrik's smile has vanished. "The king before me. He had so many connections across our realm, and so many people showed up in our castle to visit. He encouraged me to make friends, to get close to the elves, pixies, seelies he invited to visit. But what he was adamant about was never letting me befriend a human."

The image changes to that of the dining room, Henrik's father sitting at the head of the table in the king's chair. Next to him is who Stellan presumes is Henrik's mother, a kinder-looking woman seated at the queen's chair, the one he presides in. All around them, humans mill around. But unlike the humans he sees today, these humans are worn, haggard, their faces thin with starvation. Their eyes are glassy.

"He's always had very extreme views on humans in our court. He always said that they were useless, fragile, with the lifespan of mayflies and good for nothing more than servitude." The camellias entwined around Henrik's wrist begin to writhe, sensing their master's frustration. "Every human in our castle was a servant, enchanted to serve the fairies and incapable of free will. My father kept it that way for a long time. He had every rowan tree in our kingdom chopped down so that the berries couldn't protect the humans, and the import of salt from the Spring Kingdom halted." Henrik frowns. "As you can tell, I didn't really take after him.

"I managed to get the servant who tended to my rooms to return to normal after..." His face contorts in disgust. Stellan laces their fingers together and strokes his hand comfortingly. "After he tasted his own blood, which contained salt. I was pretty close to transporting him back to the human world when my father walked into my room. He killed the servant on the spot."

"I'm sorry," is all Stellan can say. "That must've been terrible."

Henrik shrugs, turning the page in his worn book. "I got over it. The next servant to tend to my rooms lived, and I didn't try to save another one again. I can't say the same for another boy."

"Did he try to save a human?"

"Worse." Henrik's expression darkens, and the pain in his eyes is evident. "He fell in love with one." The camellias are slithering onto the desk now, like beautiful snakes made of petals and leaves. "His name was Emil, and he was a noble's son. An excellent wordsmith, that one; he could be rambling about anything and the next moment you'd be obeying his every command. Apparently, my father caught him in his room kissing a human maid, who he'd managed to seduce out of even my father's enchantment. He knew his lover would get killed, so of course he tried to talk my father into leaving the room and forgetting the situation."

Stellan's blood turns to ice; he can't imagine that poor boy being condemned for what Henrik is doing now. "And he failed."

He nods. "My father accused Emil of two crimes - of being with a human, and of trying to cast a spell to control the king's actions. His lover was killed, and he was exiled to the human world for five fairy years." Henrik purses his lips. "Five fairy years is a very long time."

Stripped of his magic, his power, banished to lifetimes upon lifetimes of mundanity because of their heart. That must be agony. The hyacinths on his wrist are twirling around his fingers. Stellan gapes at the image off the pages, at the ghostly, white-haired wisp of a boy holding a young woman in horror and the king aflame with rage at the doorway. "Poor Emil. Where is he now?"

"Still in the human world," Henrik replies. "Even after I became king and managed to free all the human servants in the castle, I could not call Emil back here. Even now, my magic is not as strong as my father's." He exhales. "This book is a diary I've kept since I was a boy. I described every act my father inflicted on the humans in our court in detail, lest I repeat his actions." He smiles again, and Stellan's heart swells to see it. "With you by my side, I'm sure that will never happen." With a snap of his fingers, Henrik closes the book. "I've told you so much, and still haven't gotten to the point. What I am trying to say is that Emil's ten years of exile is almost up. In two days, I will be able to call him back to the castle."

...

How long has it been?

Even after so long, Emil has not been able to get used to how humans tell time. Maybe his ten years have been over a long time ago, or he has barely breached his first month. Goodness, who knows?

The village he has been residing in since his exile has no forest, no dark thicket of trees he can flee to so that he can pretend he is back in the realm of the fair folk, perhaps riding a dragonfly to a market or gathering mushrooms in a nice meadow. All Emil has is the patch of flowers he has tended to for so, so long.

He has lived and died more times than he has cared to remember, waking up in the arms of a different mother in the cottage every time, his memories of his beautiful human being blasted to bits by the fairy king, of the young prince staring at him in horror fresh in his mind. But he pretends. As long as he has his flowers, all is well.

He heads for the patch of flowers at the corner of the village, stares into the white daisies bobbing gently in the wind. He picks one, strokes the soft pearly petals and thinks of the flowers in the realm of the fair folk, which take years of wilt and are always pristine. These daisies die quickly and their leaves are often eaten away by aphids, but somehow they are equally beautiful.

"You haven't changed a bit."

Emil looks up. Standing in the patch, boots trampling the grass, is a sneering young man. His black hair is tousled by the breeze, his copper eyes glinting in the sunlight. "I mean, except for the fact that you've lost the ability to make people serve you just by talking, that you've lost your wings, your magic and your reputation." He smirks. "But at least you've still your pretty face."

For a moment, he wonders if the arrival of his fellow noble is the king's idea of an extra punishment. "Erland, why are you the first fairy I have to see?"

The red admiral butterfly wings on the fairy's back flap, propelling him slightly into the air. "You ought to be more grateful to see me, my good Duke. The king sent me here to deliver some news."

"Oh, is he going to massacre this entire village because I dared to form an attachment to more human, then drag me back to smite me like he did to Leonor?" Even saying the name of his former partner brings a stab of agony through him.

Erland's smirk wavers. "Einar is dead, Emil. In his place is his son, who is unfortunately much more soft-hearted when it comes to the mundane. Prince Henrik - now King Henrik - even followed in your footsteps and fell for human scum."

He clenches his fists. He has not even met the new king's human lover, but he already feels protective of them. "Don't call them scum," Emil retorts.

"He even turned his sweetheart into a fairy." That insufferable grin returns, and Erland flutters a little higher. The peonies on his wrist bloom a little brighter. "As though a tiara and a few magic tricks could turn him into one of us." He flicks his wrist. A peony flies off its stem and hits Emil in the face. "But you'll be able to see the other King soon. I was sent to bring you back."

"Bring me back?" Emil repeats. "I am to live in the realm of the fair folk again? Use magic, have wings again?"

"Goodness, you sound like a human child," Erland scoffs. "But yes. Most unfortunately, you may return to living at the castle. Are you ready to leave?"

The thoughts of former families, old friends and all the homes he has lived in flash through his mind. "I want to say goodbye to my family first."

Erland snorts. "Say goodbye to the humans who will die in a blink of an eye? I think not. Let's go." He whispers an incantation, in the folk-tongue Emil hasn't heard in ages, and his vision fades to darkness.

When his eyes open, he is standing in the throne room of the Summer Court. The creamy beige tiles, the golden-gilded walls and tapestries hanging from the ceiling are all the same, as are the thrones, made of living white wisteria branches. But the two figures sitting upon the white-petalled seats are not ones that Emil remembers.

One is dressed in red, the crown of thornless roses atop his messy golden hair. His mad blue eyes are so like his father's. King Henrik smiles at him, the crimson camellias on his arms twirling in invitation. The monarch butterfly wings on his back are idle, a splash of colour against the mild wisteria.

The gentleman next to him has round ears, and his blue eyes are similar to the ones Emil has seen in his village. He is, without a doubt, the human-turned-fair folk Erland was talking about. Delicate white stockings and slippers poke out from a midnight-blue gown lined with gold, and around the sleeves are plumes of hyacinths. The crown of blue salvia blossoms, once the Queen's, sits upon his feathery blond hair. He looks strange, like somebody cut off the wings of a blue morpho butterfly and stitched it onto a human, then called him a fairy. Then his eyes flash briefly with gold. Fair folk for sure.

Then Emil notices that he has changed. In place of his drab village clothes is the off-white gown he wore during his last day at court, and on his back is a pair of delicate crystal-clear wings that glimmer faintly in the sunlight. Sweet-smelling frangipani branches loop around his ankles, and power surges through his veins. After too long, he is finally back to normal.

The King rises from his throne, descending the stairs rather ungracefully. "Welcome back, Emil!" Henrik's voice has deepened, his shoulders have grown broader. Although he is only slightly older than Emil, he towers above him, at least a head taller. Emil has to crane his neck to make eye contact. "We missed you."

"I didn't," Erland mutters under his breath.

"A lot has changed since you were last here," Henrik continues, "my father is dead, for one, and the humans here are no longer enchanted." He gestures to the occupied throne. "One is even your King."

His lover takes this as his cue to join Henrik before Emil and rises, light and graceful as a dancer. His eyes are an unremarkable, murky blue one second, bright gold the next. Clearly, the other King walks the thin line between magical and mundane. Emil bows. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

The King bows next, his expression serene. "Likewise."

Ever so boldly, Henrik reaches over to wrap an arm around the King's waist. "This is Stellan, who has been my fellow King for six months now. Even though he arrived at our court a human, he is one of us now, and you will treat him as such." He smiles. He's always smiling, unlike his icy father. "Of course, given that you have always been more than welcoming of humans in our court, that should be no problem for you."

Emil's wings flutter. He has missed them so. "I will serve you and your new King to the best of my abilities, Your Majesty."

Henrik nods, clapping his hands together. Even as a Prince, all those years ago, he was not one for excessive formality. "Duke Erland will lead you to your room."

Perhaps the King wishes to punish him a little more after all. Erland takes a step towards him, stone-faced. "Follow me."

As he is lead out of the throne room, Emil risks one more glance at the Kings. Stellan is bundled up in Henrik's arms, head resting snugly against his chest and arms squeezing his waist. Henrik's lips are pressed to his forehead, just under his blue crown. Something in his chest aches. This could have been him and Leonor.

His room is just as he left it, with book and scraps of parchment strewn across his desk, his bed neatly made and haphazardly-built bookshelves lining every wall. Emil sits down at his bed, presses his hand against the pillow where he once hid the notes he exchanged with his partner.

Erland sits down next to him. "What do you think of the new King?"

"He's strange. He looks as though he is stuck between the human and fairy realms, although I guess that is what happened to him." Emil picks up his pillow, hearing the rustle of parchment, and places it gingerly on his lap. "King Henrik seems to adore him."

"Oh, you have no idea. Ev'ry meeting, he pulls out his chair for him and holds his hand the entire time. During mealtimes, he does the same. Wherever you go, you will always always see them together, holding hands, mostly likely, and maybe making eyes at each other or smiling or kissing. It's sickening." Erland kicks his feet childishly. "I suppose he isn't all bad, though. During King Henrik's latest revel, he danced from dusk 'til dawn without ever stopping, even for food or water. His slippers were falling apart, but I don't think he felt tired at all."

Emil has been to many a revel himself, and he has often spent the afternoons after them getting acquainted with his chamberpot or nursing his aching feet. For a once-human to dance the night away without a single break, achieving what a fairy cannot, is really quite impressive.

"He played the fiddle, too, so nicely that half the guests cried. King Henrik was so pleased he grabbed King Stellan 'round the waist and kissed him in front of everyone." He examines his nails. "For someone who spent most of his life as a human, he really isn't terrible."

When Henrik's father reigned, Erland was the one who took his side the most, especially when it came to policies against humans. "I suppose that is the closest thing to a compliment you will grant King Stellan."

"I suppose so." Erland rises, his red admiral wings nearly hitting Emil in the face. "I have duties to tend to now. As for you, try to get used to living here again, I suppose. A servant will call you down for dinner."

He flits through the door, and Emil is left alone in his room.

...

After a few hours of sorting through his old books, trying not to shed tears at his old notes, Emil is saved from his solitude by a servant entering his room. He is undoubtedly a human, with no wings on his back nor flowers around his wrists and ankles. "Your Grace," the servant says, "it's time for dinner."

He rises from his desk, where he was poring over a notebook of his poems, and sweeps past the servant. It is then that he notices his eyes are bright and very much conscious. So Henrik was telling the truth when he stated that all the humans within the court were there of their own will.

On the way to the dining hall, the servant trailing behind him, Emil dares to ask, "what's it like, living here?"

The servant hesitates for a moment before answering, "very nice, Your Grace. Our quarters are unlike anything I've seen in the human world, and as long as we have salt with us, the food is amazing. The King sends our wages home to our families."

"Have you been here long?"

"Only for two days, Your Grace. By the end of this week, I'll be back home for a holiday and you won't see me again after this month."

Of course not, not when time runs differently in the two worlds. After the servant's month is up, he will most likely return home to see their family aged up at least a year. "I hope you'll enjoy working here."

He shrugs. "Back home, my family can finally afford to eat and I'm living in a castle. After I go home, I'll have earned enough that my family won't ever go hungry again."

They walk in silence until they reach the dining hall. Emil thanks the servant, who responds with a smile, and takes his seat at the table.

His chair has a carving of the glasswing butterfly on it, its ethereal wings paned with glass. Emil bows to the Kings, seated at the head of the table, and sits down. Stellan waves in greeting, and Henrik smiles. Just as Erland said, they are hand in hand, and their chairs pressed so close together there is no longer space between them.

By the time the meal is coming to a close, and some servants (this time fairies, no doubt employed from the rest of the court) are passing fruits around, Stellan is practically in Henrik's lap. They are holding hands again, and Emil notices that Stellan is blushing. When they rise, having finished eating, and leave, Henrik reaches around once again to cup the curve of his lover's hip, and in return Stellan rests his head on his shoulder.

"Look at them," Erland snorts, as he leaves the dining hall, "they're practically joined at the hip."

Emil watches them amble through the hallways, wings fluttering giddily, and sighs. The King and his once-human lover are perhaps the sweetest couple he has ever seen, and the flowers under their control almost perpetually happy. They are what he wanted so badly to be with his Leonor one day.

He watches as they flutter up flights of stairs, always talking, talking, as though they could never run out of things to be happy about. They enter the castle library still holding hands, fingers entwined and bodies close together.

He returns to his room feeling happy for them. Maybe one day he shall find somebody he will love as Henrik loves Stellan, and this time there will be nothing to tear them apart.

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing #not very dennor-ish but eh #i tried #dennorweek2020

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 7--Defender

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Ienzo learns there's something much deeper to his bond with Demyx than originally thought. Dilan has a proposition.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The whole streetcar ride home, Ienzo thought about the pendant. Even in his pants pocket, it kept that body heat. He wondered if he’d made some kind of mistake--if taking it were going to hurt Demyx. But Demyx would tell him, right, if he started feeling ill, or faint?

At least if he had the pendant to focus on, he didn’t have to think about the way it had felt when Demyx touched him.

Demyx had a point. How to tell if any of this was genuine? And did it matter? It felt so--

“Gracing us with your presence at last?” Even asked, with a sneer. “You were with the boy , weren’t you?”

“I don’t care for your tone, Even,” Ienzo retorted equally.

“But you were there?”

Ienzo took off his jacket and turned. “Yes. What of it?” He gathered himself and locked eyes. “Actually… I was wondering if you might help me.”

“ Help you? Do I even want to know--”

Ienzo pulled the pendant out of his pocket and held it up. Even squinted, then took it into his palm.

“This is his?” he asked softly.

“I told him I wanted to study it. He’s lost memories, Even, and the ability to change form--he's a siren. I wonder… if this has something to do with it.”

Even put on his reading glasses. “Oh,” he said softly.

“What?”

He'd gone very pale. “Come with me, child.”

It was the change of tone that startled him. Ienzo followed him into the study. Even turned on a few of the lamps, set the pendant down, and began riffling through some of the old tomes he always carried with them. “Do you know what this is?” Ienzo asked.

Even held open one of the books. “I’m surprised you don’t.”

Ienzo took it into his hands. He saw the rune that had been etched onto Demyx’s stone. “I’m afraid I… Even, I don’t…” A headache budded behind his right eye.

Even exhaled heavily. He went over to the mahogany desk, and took out an old tarnished silver box. Ienzo felt something in him surge. Before Even opened it, he already knew what it would contain. “I should’ve--put it together mentally, but I was--reeling. Forgive me, Ienzo.”

With shaking hands, Ienzo took it from him. The silver, too, was warm. The blood rushed to his face. He stared down onto the white velvet to see the other half of Demyx’s pendant. He mouthed words soundlessly. “What--so--” He couldn’t even think of the question.

“It’s yours,” Even said. “A long, long time ago… it was gifted to Ansem by a seeker. A gift of… protection. I did not originally think--that there was a body behind said protection. An old form of magic.”

“Pairbonding?”

He shook his head. Ienzo didn’t know what to read into his expression. It was wistful, almost sad. “Soulbinding. When you told me the other day of that instance you were saved--I should've put it together right then and there. I'm sorry."

“Soul…” Ienzo trailed off. “So he and I--”

“Are bound.”

“Can it be--”

“Not without causing either of you intense pain, and risking your magic ability--if not your life.”

Ienzo felt as though he could not breathe. “So some… seeker… bound him to me?”

He frowned. “On a literal level, yes… but the boy’s soul… had to resonate with you, had to be similar enough to…”

Ienzo took Demyx’s pendant, and his own, and fitted them together.

“...Quite.”

It was getting harder to breathe. Anxiety prickled in his veins. “Am I not allowed one thing, one single solitary thing, where I can make a decision?” he gasped. “Am I not allowed--” He eased down on his knees, cradling the pendants.

“Deep breaths,” Even said, resting his hands on Ienzo’s shoulders. “Breathe.”

“So he made this decision for me? My father?”

“He did not know until just before the coup, and then he figured--”

“I could use the extra protection. Right.” He could feel the excess saliva in his mouth. “So all this moving around was not just because we were being followed, was it? It was also partially to--”

“It was never a priority of mine, Ienzo, mostly because--”

“I would inevitably fall in love?” The hysteria was rising and rising. “That--perhaps--I already am? This is so--” He scrambled to his feet.

“Child, calm down. The magic--”

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” he snarled. “Why would you keep this from me?”

Even’s expression went blank. “What would you have said?”

All Ienzo could hear was his own breathing.

“What would you have said?” Even repeated. “What would you have done? My job is to protect you, Ienzo, to the best of my abilities. What good would it have done, to know this?”

“It’s my life.”

“Your life does not belong to you, child,” he replied.

“I guess…” An ache flooded him. “I guess it never did.” He held the two pendants. “Right. I see.” He started towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“What does it matter?”

“Ienzo--”

He slammed the door behind him.

The night air was cold. The soft crunch of the street under his shoes seemed loud. He kept cradling the pendants, unsure of what to do with them. What if he--

Ienzo set them down on the street. He gathered his magic, seeing nobody and nothing in the dark, and launched a shattering spell at both--

They weren’t broken. They weren’t even scratched. He picked them back up.

Even had lied to him.

He kept walking. He wasn’t here to live a normal life, he was here to find his supposed mate , that he might be safe, that he might--what? How did they expect him to make good decisions as a king if he was not given the will to do one single --

He could feel he was bleeding magic, sending a signal to whoever wanted to listen--

A whisper of shadows.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the Heartless, how they were strangely humanoid, unlike any he had seen previously in other places. He braced himself. A fight was, if anything, welcome. He sculpted more blades of magic, their violet glow throwing their shapes into relief.

He thought he heard whispers.

Help us , they hissed. Help us--he--

Ienzo balked.

Our hearts… poison… darkness… help me.

His hands trembled.

Hurting. Hurting. Hurts.

Heartless were not human, they were not more than mere shadow; why was he hesitating?

He took his blades and launched them in an arc at the Heartless, felling them in one swoop. And then they were gone.

The pendants were still warm in his other hand. He opened his fist and saw that they were glowing brighter now.

Demyx…

The sound of very real human footsteps. Ienzo struggled to flick up his hood, to cover his no-doubt glowing hair, and he started to run--

“You there! Stop!”

A voice he would know anywhere. So slowly, he turned. “Dilan…” All he could see was Dilan’s silhouette, so he used his darkvision spell.

Dilan looked more haggard than he had that morning at the border. “What are you doing out here this time of night?” he asked.

“I…” He had no good reason. “It really is you.”

“Let me take you home.”

“I… can’t.”

“Why not?”

He opened his hand, revealing the two pendants. “Did you know about this?”

“They never told you?”

“No.”

Dilan sighed heavily. “Come along then. You’d best disguise yourself.”

Ienzo chose the face of a random boy. It was always odd, to see his own appearance change; odd, but in some cases comforting. He followed Dilan on foot in silence for what seemed an eternity before finally they arrived at a small apartment building.

This wasn’t the best neighborhood, Ienzo realized. There was garbage on the sidewalks, and stray cats licked at the fluids that came from said bags. The neon sign of a bar flickered brokenly, and every other shop window was boarded up. Dilan led him up a narrow, horribly lit staircase that smelled of fish and urine. He unlocked a door on the third landing.

The room was small, cramped, and dark. Dilan flicked on a light. The furnishing was nearly beyond minimal--a twin bed made with a plain cover and a single pillow, a card table and folding chair which must serve as his desk, and another more cushy folding chair. Dilan gestured for him to sit in the more comfortable one, so he did.

“Let me look at you,” Dilan said softly, so Ienzo let the illusion fall away. “I can hardly believe it… not long ago you barely came up to my knee. How long has it been?”

“Twelve years.” He looked around the room again, feeling guilt like rivers. “Please tell me these are not your real lodgings.”

“Not quite--this is a unit we use to crash, as it were. It is… sparse, but safe enough.”

Ienzo nodded. At least there was that. “So you’ve truly gone underground, then? Like Aeleus?”

“Insofar as I can. That, and… someone has to keep an eye on you, Ienzo.”

The mollification broke the pleasure of this reunion. “So you’ve been following me?”

“Even wishes--but no. I do, however, run some ground patrol around that house when Aeleus is away.”

Ienzo leaned back in the chair. It smelled a bit musty. “I guess I should thank you.”

Dilan smiled a little. “Reward enough, to see your face again.”

“You’re not resentful of me?”

Dilan crossed his legs. “This is my… duty.”

“Yet, not an answer to my question.”

He chuckled a little. “I’ve missed your wit. Child, it is not possible to truly live a normal, happy life right now. Even if I could, how selfish would that be? I’ve lost too much because of this darkness.”

“More than your freedom, your livelihood?”

Ienzo immediately regretted asking the question--Dilan’s expression darkened. “My family did not live in the castle, you recall,” was all he said.

The guilt worsened, making him feel nauseous now, making his anger at this whole soulbinding nonsense seem trivial-- “Oh, Dilan,” he said. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it, Ienzo. You were a child.” He glanced out the small window; the streetlight hit his violet eyes.

“This is because of me, because of my line--”

“The tensions were growing long before you were born. You were merely sheltered from it.” He sighed. “It was always an issue. With class inequity… how could the people be anything but discontent, when their rich rulers aren’t even “human?”” He made air quotes. “Xehanort’s propaganda merely sowed the seeds, leading to darkness, leading to… all this. Revolution is not uncalled for--but this kind of revolution is worse than what we had before.”

“So what is there to be done? And what do these have to do with all of this?” He brought out the pendants.

Dilan stared down at them hazily. “A lame attempt at peace.”

“I thought it was a way to protect me.”

“It was-- is ,” Dilan asserted. “What do you know of… the other half?” His lip curled.

Ienzo told him everything. “What do you mean by “peace?””

“This was before Xehanort, of course, but… the seekers came from an independent nation. They… said they would help pacify the people, using their abilities. Help smooth things over while real changes were made.” He frowned. “The child would protect you… and his people would protect ours. But… that never came to fruition.”

“They were hunted,” Ienzo murmured.

“Yes.”

“By Xehanort?”

“By an extremist group that has long since been enveloped within his forces, so, yes.”

Ienzo wondered how much of Demyx’s amnesia was a blessing. “So how do we even… begin to undo all this?” he asked. “And--why did Even keep it from me?”

Dilan smoothed at one of his braids. “The fool was always trying to protect you from the world, especially after what happened to your poor parents,” he said. “I suppose he was waiting for the time to be right.”

Ienzo pressed his face in his hands. “If he killed the seekers… who is he going after next?”

“Anyone who does not surrender,” Dilan said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Bad habit, I know. Do you mind?”

Ienzo shook his head. Dilan lit the cigarette with his fingertips. “And the city-states?”

“Are being pressured to comply, else get swept over with darkness.”

Ienzo twisted the tie of his hoodie. “I fought some, before you saw me,” he said softly. “They were… talking to me. Something about hearts, about… poison.”

Dilan furrowed his brows. “They don’t have intellect. They’re shadows.”

“Then what did I hear?”

“...I’m not sure. I’ll see if… anyone knows anything.”

“How big is the resistance?”

“Sorry?” He tapped some ash into an ashtray.

“How big is it actually?”

Dilan blinked slowly and dropped his eyes. “A network of a few hundred, across the continent.”

“A few hundred ? That’s--”

“What did you think it was, Ienzo?” He exhaled smoke. “Of course we’re trying to recruit, but getting people to agree… when they have families and other things on the line…”

“So this is all futile, is what you’re saying?” He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “We should just--give in to the darkness?”

Dilan scowled. “No, Ienzo. Of course not.” He stubbed out the cigarette and took Ienzo’s hands into his; they were strong and work-roughened. “You could… give people hope.”

“The people that hate me, you mean?”

“People don’t hate you, Ienzo. They hate the institution.”

“That I symbolize.”

“They thought you were missing. If you become the face of the resistance… that could mean something.”

Ienzo hesitated. “What about Even?”

“You’re an adult. Isn’t it time to make your own decision?”

“Exposing my identity could kill me.”

“Good thing you have something to protect you.” He gestured to the pendants. “Look, Ienzo, it’s up to you. Simply… let me know if you’d ever like to meet one of the contacts. Now I should see you home, shouldn’t I?”

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #even (kingdom hearts)#dilan (kingdom hearts)#au #soulmate au #ienzo is trans

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