#throws this art at you before passing out. My Beloved Be Upon Ye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

novelconcepts · 3 years

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You saying more childhood AU is possible with the right prompt is just...

More Tess. All of the Tess. Tess the morning after the party, lives in my brain rent free. The teasing. The knowing looks. The Jamie and Dani being so in love and unashamed and also oops we forgot the roommate. And Tess being the wonderful person she is and not letting them get away with anything.

It’s the fact that they think they’re subtle, that really gets her.

Not that Tess is upset to find Jamie crashing with them the week following graduation. Of course Jamie is crashing with them. Where else would she go, now that Dani “it’s important to grow up and change and learn who you really are, or some such bull” Clayton has finally snapped up the hot gardener of her dreams? Honestly, if Dani let her walk out that door--especially after that first night, which, hello, gardener; these walls aren’t half as thick as they apparently think--she’d have forfeited all rights to sanity, and Tess would have no choice but to make her move instead.

No, she isn’t upset to find Jamie still here the following morning. Or at all. She loves Jamie. What’s not to love?

Honestly, so much to love. If she didn’t love Dani even more, she might have to really test the bounds of this friendship. Particularly when she opens her bedroom door to find Jamie--hair rumpled, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flannel and a pair of boxer shorts--at the kitchen counter. Like, warn a woman.

“Warn you about what?” Jamie looks blank, her hands prying open each cupboard with evidently-mounting disappointment. “You really don’t have any tea?”

“Warn a woman,” Tess repeats, hip-checking her gently out of the way and scrounging the supply of English Breakfast out from behind the stoner snacks. “Before you turn up in her kitchen looking all sex-rumpled. I haven’t even had coffee, Taylor, Jesus.”

Jamie blinks, taking the box from her hands. “O...kay. How was the rest of the party?”

“Not nearly as engaging as your night,” Tess informs her pleasantly, delighted when Jamie’s sleep-muddled expression lights up with embarrassment. “But an extravaganza in its own right all the same. Where’s my girl? I know you railed her into next week, but it seems bad manners to leave you to breakfast alone.”

“I didn’t--we--”

“Thin walls,” Tess sing-songs. “Like paper. Or, what, you’re English--parchment?”

“We have paper,” Jamie deadpans. Tess pats her shoulder, working around her to fill the kettle.

“Good fortune really does smile upon you. Ah! Sleeping Beauty arises!”

Dani, looking only slightly more functional than Jamie, is emerging from the bathroom with an expression that suggests she, at least, is very aware of the acoustics of their apartment. It’s so tempting to tease her about it--Dani has this truly adorable habit of looking like she might combust if pushed too far, the red of her face complimented nicely by the gold of her hair--but Tess figures some things can wait. Lord knows they’re going to walk right into it soon enough.

But like--so soon. Like, she goes off to take a shower, and comes back to find they still haven’t left the kitchen soon.

“Seriously?” She laughs, watching them leap apart. It’s too clear Dani has forgone the idea of coffee and bacon for the much-more-invigorating art of pushing Jamie against the refrigerator. Not that Tess can blame her.

“We--were just--”

“Right in front of my cereal,” Tess says gravely, shaking her head in faux-disappointment as she stretches over Jamie--whose hands are still rooted to Dani’s hips, the hem of Dani’s shirt dropping hastily back over her stomach--to retrieve a box of off-brand Lucky Charms. “No shame.”

They’re both making noises of disagreement, as though Tess hasn’t had her share of groping in the kitchen experiences to call on. She snorts.

“Look, far be it from me to stop your, ah, young love in its tracks. Just. Keep it out of my bedroom, is all I ask. Unless...” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jamie clears her throat so violently, it sounds as though she might fracture something.

“Shower. Should. I.”

“That sentence normally goes in the other direction,” says Tess helpfully. Dani swats her back, grinning.

“Got that out of your system yet?”

“Oh, not nearly.” Tess beams. “By all means, Clayton, show her where the shower lives.”

“I know where the,” Jamie begins to protest, but Dani is slipping both arms around her middle, pressing against her back to urge her toward the bathroom.

“That’s her polite way of saying if I don’t go with you now, she’s going to spend the next half hour fishing for details.”

“You still owe me those,” Tess calls after them. “Every last filthy one.”

***

They think the shower is noise-cancelling, too, Tess realizes about four minutes later. Jesus, these beautiful useless idiots.

***

It’s the lack of subtlety masquerading as Chill, really. The fact that every single time Tess leaves a room, she can count slowly to ten, poke her head back out, and find they’ve picked right back up where last she interrupted.

Step into the bedroom to change her clothes? Come back out to find Dani straddling Jamie on the couch.

Take a quick smoke break on the stairs out front? Glance through the window to find Jamie shirtless, the unmistakable tread of scratches running down her back beneath her bra.

Offer to run out for lunch? Spend an extra five minutes idly counting clouds, because fuck only knows the sounds Dani is making isn’t karaoke.

“You two,” she announces, tossing the pizza box onto the counter with a flourish, “are going to break something if you keep this up. I mean, you’re at least taking hydration breaks, I hope? Do I need to bring you a power bar?”

Jamie has the decency to look slightly ashamed of herself, though there’s a definite grin beneath the hunched shoulders. Dani, selecting a slice of pepperoni-and-banana-peppers, shrugs.

“Consider it payback?”

“For who?” Tess demands, delighted. Dani raises her free hand, ticking her fingers down toward her palm.

“Tyler, whose butt I saw like ten minutes before you introduced us. May, who you used to desecrate the kitchen floor. Carlos and Beth--”

“Liz,” Tess interrupts, “she goes by Liz these days.”

“--Liz, with whom you conveniently forgot I needed to shower before my presentation and took up the bathroom for three hours--”

“Okay, okay,” Tess snorts, groping for a dishtowel in some shade of off-white to wave. “Truce.”

“And that’s just this apartment,” Dani says cheerfully. She tilts her head to look at Jamie, whose face can best be described as aghast. “Back in the dorm, she used to sneak girls in after I was asleep.”

“You were a sound sleeper!”

“No one is sound enough to ignore a bed frame breaking, Tess.”

“I...avoiding college was the right choice,” Jamie says weakly. Tess bats her eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve never dreamed of breaking a bed frame with me, Taylor?”

Jamie darts a look around at Dani, her eyes just shy of screaming. Tess is having the best time of her life.

***

“Tell me honestly, though,” she says. Jamie gives her a sharp look, uncertainty obvious even as she reaches to accept the joint Tess is passing her way.

“Really don’t think Dani wants me giving you a play by play.”

“Dani, beloved of my soul, was fool enough to schedule a doctor’s appointment while you were still in town. She knows what I’m about.”

To Jamie’s credit, she doesn’t choke this time. She puffs once, twice, holding the smoke in her lungs an impressively long time before craning her head back and exhaling. "What am I telling you honestly?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

Jamie looks surprised. “Yeah. Not that she needs it, mind. Just. Yeah. Always.”

Tess sighs. “She doesn’t need it, but you know as well as I what that woman is like. Too good. Too fucking good for her own good, you know? Forgets, sometimes, that she can come first, too.”

Jamie offers a smile nearly wicked in its amusement. “Oh, I take care of that.”

“Yes,” Tess drawls, “darling, I can tell. You know, really relieved she never brought anyone home before now. I’m not sure my beauty sleep could have taken the abuse.”

Jamie laughs, leaning back and pulling a throw pillow into a loose embrace. “She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. But...”

“But you can’t help wanting to, anyway,” Tess guesses. When Jamie nods, she takes another hit, lets the smoke burn in her chest. “She has that effect on people. Our girl would take a bullet for anyone, and it’s...impossible not to love her for it.”

“She’s the reason,” Jamie says softly, “I didn’t run. Reason I did a lot of things, some of ‘em really, really stupid. Sometimes I think everything I’ve ever done can be traced back home to her, one way or another.”

“That, my dear,” Tess says, “is what fools and songstresses alike call love, I think. Just...do me a favor, keep her from killing herself for those kids.”

Jamie nods. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Tess says lightly. “I like you, Jamie. You’ve got the hands of a sinner and the smile of a saint. I’d really hate to have to track you down and kill you for doing her wrong.”

***

For all the sex, and all the blushing that follows, it’s late nights like this one that really say it all. Nights where cards fade into lazy conversation fade into this: Jamie, asleep on the couch, her head resting in Dani’s lap. Dani, looking down at her like she’s never felt so at home in her own skin.

And Tess, watching them both, astonished by the lack of fear in the room. The lack of distance. The lack of uncertainty.

Dani, who has always been a nervous sort, whose panic attacks are so predictable on bad weeks, Tess came back from that first Christmas break with a laundry list of coping methods to offer--looks perfectly at peace. Her fingers stroke back Jamie’s hair, tracing her forehead, her nose, every brush of contact only seeming to sink Jamie deeper into dream. Dani has never looked like this before.

“You’re happy,” Tess says quietly. Not a question. Not a challenge. Dani smiles.

“Part of me thought she’d get sick of it, you know. Waiting for me.”

“Who could get sick of you?” Tess asks, and means it. No one in the world stacks up to Dani, on a list of favorite people. No one in the world ever could. If Jamie really did fall ass over teakettle for this woman when they were barely old enough to know what love was, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Not for a second.

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course,” Tess says, when Dani--eyes closed, fingers still tracing aimlessly--says nothing for a while. One blue eye emerges, her nose scrunching up.

“Jumping ahead, aren’t you?”

“She’d do it here and now, if you asked. Shit, I could get ordained, do it for you. Always thought I’d look nice in a little suit.”

“You’d be gorgeous,” Dani says, without a hint of deprecation. Tess blows her a kiss. “And...yes. If and when, I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“As officiant?”

“I was thinking maid of honor,” Dani laughs. Tess leans back, smiling.

“That’ll do.”

The silence creeps in again, the sleepy indulgence of post-midnight living that feels so perfectly suited to the college experience. Nothing else, Tess suspects, will ever be quite this again--the quiet feeling like peace, the weariness feeling earned, not crushing. Jamie breathes out in her sleep, one hand drifting to gently grasp the hem of Dani’s shirt.

“Gonna miss you,” Tess says softly. “And this one, too.”

Dani smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It won’t be the same again, will it?”

“Nope.” And maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks. Maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Growing up. Changing. Learning who they ought to be. “But you’ll call.”

“And write,” Dani agrees.

“And send me pictures of your hot gardener,” Tess adds. “Lord knows, it’d be a crying shame to forget that.”

Dani laughs. “Never.”

“You did good, Clayton. Took you a minute, but--you did good.”

She lets the silence settle for real, lets Jamie sleep and Dani doze, lets herself sink into the armchair. They aren’t subtle, it’s true--she’ll probably wake tomorrow to find they’ve opted for a quiet round of the most wall-shaking sex she’s ever heard in Dani’s room--but that feels right, somehow. Good, to see Dani refusing to make herself small. Great, to see Dani refusing to temper an emotion this grand.

“I love you idiots,” she says softly. “You’re going to be just fuckin’ fine.”

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #AU one-shot #welcome back Tess I've missed you #love an OC I enjoy almost as much as the canon kids

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silvanable · 3 years

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OMG I'M SO HAPPY I SEE U AGAIN ON MY FEED AND NOW YOU ALSO TAKE REQUESTS FOR TWST💞💗💕💓❤️❣️🧡💙💚💗💕💕💞💘💝Uhmm... i need to calm down🥺. Can i ask for a hc for Leona, Jamil and Ruggie with a gn s/o who is basically the twst version of mulan? Sorry if i ask for too much🥺 Love you and take care of yourself❤️

bless you, you wonderful doll! please don’t calm down. i found twst right before halloween and by the following morning it had consumed what remained of my soul.

i’m so glad you’re coming with requests and i absolutely adore this idea. mulan was one of my favorite disney ‘princesses’ as a kid because she was absolutely badass.

i’m literally taking this as is, so the boys’ s/o is mulan 2.0 with a twist wink wonk.

and a bonus at the very end for all you lovelies about twst mulan!

↪ GUIDELINES

— JAMIL VIPER

jamil never honestly paid them much mind in the beginning, mostly because he was babysitting watching over kalim.

he probably started to notice them more when they started participating in club sports and the magishift tournaments.

the reason they start interacting because one of their lizards, their asian water monitor to be exact, ended up getting out and saving jamil from a beetle.

queue them running up, heaving a massive lizard in their arms, and apologize for starting jamil mistaking his yell of fear for the beetle for their fear of their scaly baby.

the two strike up a conversation and sort of hit it off after that point, more or less because they constantly come up to him when they see him and start talking afterwards.

jamil has the underlying inferiority after constantly having to put himself below kalim, therefore doesn’t do well with those who look down on him or challenge his worth.

with his s/o, they understand that feeling because everything they have done in life was to fight and prove themselves of being someone worthy.

knowing about each other’s pasts and how each of them has to fight to be even glanced at as someone worrying is part of what brings them together.

the both of them have a lot of untapped or unrecognized potential but it would get better.

the two of them compliment each other in many ways and tend to be the leverage the other can use to bring out the best of themselves.

jamil is the type to actually train with his s/o, while he might not be trained in the same swordsmanship art as them, it’s an enjoyable moment for him because it’s just him and his s/o.

most time it happens he just stumbles upon his s/o practicing and joins in, as much as he loves watching it feels far more intimate to participate in their training because it’s almost like a dance between opponents.

jamil braids his own hair with magic and having a s/o who also has long hair, he would offer to do their hair for them rather happily, be it with or without magic, but he does enjoy running his fingers through their dark hair.

if his s/o asks him if they can braid his hair, he might just pass on to the next life right then and there. catch his s/o decorating his hair with unique trinkets from their home too.

jamil has grown up at the constant service of other people, so his s/o offering to do something for him is not only surprising but extremely heartwarming.

and sharing similar backgrounds he and his s/o would do small services for each other as a sort of show of their affection for one another.

as a person who keeps lots of reptiles, they introduce all of their scaly babies to jamil rather early on, if only to say they have a special fondness for even their beloved viper.

— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

of course he found them annoying at first but it’s also not every day someone dares to square up with him. he’s used to submission and compliance from others out of fear.

he finds them overly annoying but they always seemed to run into each other until one day they actually got to talking.

turns out they were quite dedicated to their family.

leona has never had a great relationship with his family, so he doesn’t quite understand how someone could be so devoted to their family to put themselves in harm’s way for them.

is not always the most respectful of his dearest s/o but when he steps too far out of line you can bet they’re setting him straight again.

leona is extremely impressed with his s/o skills, particularly their swordsmanship.

these two are literally yin and yang when it comes down to it, opposites but they perfectly balance each other out to keep each other in check.

he likes to watch them practice on the ground after classes when he’s lounging and napping. they always have such an adorably serious expression and appear almost as if they’re dancing.

absolutely will drag his s/o from their practice to nap with him in the gardens.

other times he just plops in their lap while they’re reading or studying.

is actually very impressed, if not a little jealous, of their defensive magically abilities.

leona’s specialty is ancient curses. his s/o specialty is defensive magic, particularly against curses.

not that he would ever throw a curse at them but his s/o has already proven to break more than a few of his little testers for them.

learns about their background somewhere down the line of being together.

his s/o was very reluctant to talk about it given that he was a prince, so trying to explain the work and hardships they had to endure to support and protect their family, particularly their father, seemed like a bad conversation.

leona is actually very attentive when they finally open up and it makes more sense to him the more he hears.

he understands to a degree, but again he never had to struggle with wealth or safety, nor did he have the same dedication to his family due to childhood complications.

— RUGGIE BUCCHI

found them interesting right off the bat. they were peculiar in ways he couldn’t quite place.

really started to like them when they told leona off one time. ruggie expected them to back down from the savanaclaw dorm leader when he started growling but they did not.

much like leona and his s/o— these two are a balance of each other, yin and yang, and his s/o often likes to remark.

his laid back and carefree nature does clash with their dedicated nature though. it’s a problem sometimes, especially when it comes to why his s/o works so hard.

it’s times like those that ruggie finds he doesn’t know a lot about his s/o, particularly their past. which he understands, as he’s sensitive about his own too, but still his s/o is a mystery to him.

it does take a lot for his s/o to open up about what they’re so focused and determined to become a great mage. and it turns out it’s all for their family, particularly their father.

that brings a new side of them to light for ruggie, brings him to admire them that much more because all their goals were never really for them.

genuinely sees a lot of similarity between him and his s/o’s pasts, sure they’re different but both of them had to learn and adapt to survive—whether it be for themselves or for those around them.

loves his s/o unique magic, being quite a prankster himself, ruggie has thought of 101 uses for his s/o magic that does not involve its usual purpose like roasting marshmallows.

however he does not like being in it’s path as he has been singed by it before ( of no fault of his s/o since they did warning him ).

in awe at his s/o swordsmanship and talent at defensive magic but doesn’t admit it.

he likes to watch but tries to be sneaky about it. getting caught causes his cheeks to tint pink and he will absolutely brush any and everything his s/o says about him staring off.

his s/o culture is vastly different from the one he knows from the afterglow savanna. so he’s curious.

will absolutely ask his s/o to prepare him tea or cook a dish from their home, whether or not they are a decent cook he will eat whatever the offer.

— HEADCANONS ABOUT THIS TWST!MULAN

dresses rather ambiguously leaning masculine but can absolutely slay a skirt and heals.

everyone at night raven college actually thought they were a guy for the longest time until a conversation struck up and they mentioned they were actually nonbinary.

everyone swears their unique magic is shapeshifting because they change their presentation, style, and outfits so beautifully but literally everyone never knows what they’ll look like next.

luxurious, soft hair that’s darker than a starless night. often tied up to keep it out of their face.

red is their signature color.

their father is very frail and was deemed medically unfit to preform his job, so his dear child took his place to support their family.

the only reason they’re even a nrc is because their family persuaded them to go & eventually they agreed if just to have a way to support their family and make them proud.

from an ancient line of warriors in the war against dark magic, users were renowned for their skill with a blade and their magic against curses.

best class is obviously defense magic, more grounded in combat against curses, but no one has beat them on the defense yet anyways.

also exceptionally skilled with a sword. practices daily before or after classes to keep those skills sharp.

floyd calls them “sea dragon” ( shīdoragon-chan ) after the leafy sea dragon.

reptiles freaking love them. is constantly being stalked by some scaly friends. and yes, they absolutely do talk to them all.

on that note they also have so many reptiles in their room. whoever their poor dorm leader is, better pray for them, because it’s not uncommon for a scaly friend to get out of their enclosures and wander around looking for their master.

is a member of the horse riding club.

unique magic would be called dragon’s guidance and it’s incantation is: “ancestors hear my plea, bring honor to my family and watch over me. dragon’s guidance.”

the magic brings to life a chinese dragon made from the sparks of fireworks from their hands. ( if you’ve ever seen the fellowship of the rings, imagine the firework dragon merry and pippin set off. or a similar firework dragon george & fred weasley from harry potter set off in the fifth movie ).

it acts as a sort of ‘guide’ towards their goal ( for example, finding the way out of the woods if they are lost ).

however their unique magic also has other purposes, as it can act like a signal flair, works well for parting thick crowds ( no one wants to get burned after all ), or a light source briefly before the sparks fizzle out.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst leona #twst ruggie #twst jamil #jamil viper #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland jamil #twisted wonderland ruggie #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #headcanons #disney mulan #mulan #gender neutral

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

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How about one where Amy discovers Shadow in stasis instead of Eggman?

By Accident 2k ShadAmy

When Rouge told Amy about the rumor that a hedgehog was being held captive at G.U.N's Prison Island, she didn't doubt that it was Sonic.

She knew that it was a crazy thought. Even the bat told her that Sonic couldn't be there because the base in Prison Island had been shut down a long time ago. Nothing could go in or out without a fight. Still, the pink hedgehog's mind was filled with the 'what if's.'

Amy hasn't seen Sonic for months and there was no news of him. She watched the TV, listened to the radio and even looked online whenever she could just to see where he was. The doubt that Sonic was hurt somewhere in the world haunted her mind and there was nothing that would stop Amy Rose from finding out where the love of her life was.

It was an abandoned base, so how hard could it be? It was just a matter of getting in, check out if Sonic was there or not, and then get out.

Or at least that's what she thought. She had been followed by robots and had to destroy them. Lasers, bombs, guns and all other kinds of military weapons have been used against her. Even if this wasn't Sonic, what was G.U.N trying to hide so badly? She finally reached the main room. No robots were following her now. Walking around the large space of the room, she was amazed at how dusty it was. She let out a sneeze as she dusted off the control stand. Technology wasn't her forte and for a moment she wished she had paid attention when Tails tried explaining her about computers, machines, and such. Amy pressed whatever buttons there was, yellow, green, red and nothing seemed to work. In the end, she was running out of time and patience. The pink hedgehog only wanted to see if Sonic was there or not. She took out her hammer and with all of her might, she smashed it against the panel control.

That did just the trick and she smiled as she noticed that something was coming out of the groud. A capsule raised up, almost touching the ceiling but then it came to a sudden stop. Amy continued to sneeze as the capsule had released a lot of dust and as it opened some type of fume was released as well.

Amy watched with amusement as a figure began to come out of the capsule. Her heartbeat began to raise and she twirled around in happiness at the figure above her.

"Sonic, I found you!" Amy screamed loud enough for her beloved to hear her. "Now come down here! What were you doing inside that thing?"

Amy kept her smile but it slowly began to disappeared when seconds passed and there was no answer coming from the blue one ... Was it blue?

"Sonic?"

"My name is Shadow,"

Alright, this was definitely not her Sonic. Now that her eyes were better adjusted to the darkness of the room, the figure on top of the capsule was a black and red hedgehog. His voice was deeper than Sonic's and Amy began to wonder just what in the world did she released upon herself?

"Since you were so kind to release me, my master ... I'll grant you one wish."

Amy gulped and suddenly she felt herself freeze as vermillion eyes stared at her. The stare pierced through her soul, her whole being felt electrified with such imposing manner coming from the black hedgehog. It was as if she was experiencing greatness without being part of it.

Suddenly, her trance was broken as multiples robots crashed into the main room. Shadow jumped from the top of the capsule and landed next to Amy who instinctively took out her hammer. The pink one placed herself in front of the black hedgehog, stopping him from getting any closer to the guard of robots.

"Stay behind me, I'll protect you Shadow," Amy looked side to side, trying to think of a way they could scape without Shadow getting hurt. If she throws her hammer at the robots, then she could create a path in which they can rapidly get to the exit ... if they were fast enough.

"Hey, Shadow ... Can you run fast?"

Amy quickly looked behind her to get any type of response from the black hedgehog. However, she found something unexpected. The majestic hedgehog that came out of the capsule was no longer there instead, his eyes were full of surprise and his mouth was a bit open adding to his astonishing look.

The pink one didn't have time to think about that right now. She looked back at the robots and without thinking too much about it, she threw the hammer at them. That distracted them and Amy rapidly held Shadow's hand and began to run through the path she created. She successfully got out of the room where lasers were waiting for them. Amy snapped her fingers and her hammer appeared in her hands again. She threw her hammer at the lasers and once they were destroyed she continues to run.

Amy looked back to Shadow who seemed to be lost in a trance. As if he was trapped in a dream, in a place where he had lived through this before. Terror filled his eyes and the only thing Amy wanted to do at the moment was to console him. She had never seen such a sad look on someone's face and her kind side took over. However, right now it wasn't the moment. They needed to get out of Prison Island safely first.

But there was no time. The robots were shooting at them, guns coming out of the walls was a problem as well. Amy came to a sudden stop in which she immediately turned around and looked at Shadow.

"I'll stop them as much as I can," Amy said loud enough for Shadow to break out of his trance. He looked like he was lost but immediately he gained consciousness of where he was. Seeing that Shadow was back to his self, Amy proceeded. "There is a small airplane in the jungle, run towards the east and it will be there. If I am not there in within 5 minutes, leave."

The moment Shadow heard her words come out of her mouth, an electric shock ran through his body. Suddenly, his sense were back to him, he knew what to do next.

Protect the pink hedgehog no matter what.

"I'll take care of this," Shadow said as he walked towards the robots. "It won't take long."

"No, Shadow-"

Amy tried to stop him but wasn't able to as Shadow ran towards the guard of robots. Fire coming out of his shoes, he jumped, kicked, punched, and even fly as he destroys every single robot, laser, and gun.

He was as fast as Sonic but different from the blue one, he had technique. Amy like the fighter she was, knew that he was well versed in kickboxing, different types of martial arts and Chaos ... he is good.

It took him five minutes to finish and when he did he just casually walked back to Amy, no a scratched on him. Amy still didn't fully process what just had happened and she only had a question on her mind.

"You could have done that all of this time?"

"You can take the guest room, there are water bottles and some snacks in the kitchen."

After getting out Prison Island and returning the plane to Tails, Amy was ready to go back to her apartment to get some sleep. Shadow just followed her quietly, with excitement and amusement on his face. Amy smiled whenever Shadow looked at something interesting and his eyes would light up. The room where she found him was very old, and it made her wonder just how long Shadow was in stasis inside that capsule.

"I'll cook something in the morning and we can talk then," Amy said as she approached her room, Shadow still following her. She came to a stop right in front of her room's door. The pink hedgehog smile kidly at the black hedgehog who only had a serious look on his face.

"Your room is right over there," Amy said as she pointed at a door that was across the hallway. "Use it however you want ... Goodnight."

Shadow nodded and with an awkward smile on Amy's face, she closed the door to her room.

Amy almost fainted when she opened the door and found Shadow standing right outside her room.

"For Chaos! Did you stay there the whole night?" Amy tried to catch her breath as she placed a hand on her chest, feeling her racing heart.

"Yes."

The pink one didn't expect an answer but she got one and what an answer it was.

"You didn't sleep?" She asked.

"I don't need to, I slept for a long time," Shadow said. "Besides I just wanted to make sure of your well being ... Yesterday, you were sneezing quite often. Sneezing may be due to a cold or allergic reaction. With your current health, we can't allow sneezing to go unnoticed Maria-"

"Maria?"

Shadow was surprised that her name came out of his lips. It came out like a whisper, like a dream. Almost impossible to come out, how many years has it passed since he last said her name?

"My apologies Master, I-"

"Do you want some food?"

Amy watched as Shadow's face soften. His hard and serious expression had become now of a surprised one. The pink hedgehog was very perceptive, she knew that there must be a reason why Shadow was kept at Prison Island. His eyes showed those of terror, pain, and a complicated past. It pained him to remember and Amy didn't want to be the cause of that.

"Let's go to the kitchen, I'll make us some pancakes."

The black hedgehog watched every single move she made. From mixing to putting the pancakes on his plate. Amy would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy someone watching her cook so eagerly.

"Bon appetit!" Amy finished with a smile as she placed three pancakes on Shadow's plate. She sat in front of him on the dining table and began to eat. A few seconds passed in which there was complete silence.

"Why are you doing this?"

Amy looked up to face the hedgehog who once again had a serious look on his face. Camly she placed her utensils down. "What do you mean?"

"You freed me from my slumber, let me inside your house, and even feed me ... And you don't even know anything about me."

"To be honest with you, I was looking for someone when I found you by accident," Amy made a pause, the tick-tock of her wall clock was the only sound that could be heard at the moment. A certain nervousness overtook her but still, she overcame that. "And for the rest, well ... I don't care about your past. You protected me against that guard of robots! I know you are not bad, I trust you Shadow."

Words couldn't leave his mouth. Her kind words pierced through him and his heart skipped a beat the moment she smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, full of life.

Shadow mentally shook his head, getting rid of the thoughts crossing his mind.

"Before I said that I shall grant you one wish ..." Shadow said. "But due that you have shown me such kindness, I'll grant you two wishes. It can be anything-"

"For you to eat your pancakes," Amy responded.

"But Master-"

"And for you to stop calling me Master."

A few more seconds passed in which Shadow thought the pink hedgehog was playing with him. However, it just seemed like the female hedgehog in front of him was full of surprises. She was very serious about her request and this intrigued Shadow even more.

"Are you serious?"

"I am not gonna lie, with your strength and speed, it would be easy to find Sonic, but I won't force you." Amy added, "Besides you have been asleep for a long time right? I am sure there are a lot of things you want to do now that you are free."

Suddenly, he remembered why he was here. Space Colony ARK, G.U.N., Professor Gerald Robotnik, the Eclipse Cannon, Maria, and the promise he had made to her ... to destroy the world who killed her.

"There is one thing I need to do actually," Shadow looked down to his food, although the food looked pleasant and smell good, he wasn't hungry. "But first I need to go home and to do that I need a Chaos Emerald."

"Oh? I can help you with that! Not to show off but I am great at finding people and things! I believe there even is a Chaos Emerald in the city," Amy said, once again giving him a smile. "I can take you there if you want!"

Shadow thought about it for a second. In all honesty, there was not too much to think about. He was unknown to the place, and the pink one seemed like she could be trusted. Not only that, he wanted to destroy the world but he didn't want to destroy it when the pink one is in it. He could take her to the ARK and keep her there while he finishes his business and to do that he needed to keep her close. If she wanted she could even bring that person she was looking for to keep her company.

"In return of you helping me, I'll help you find that individual you are looking for," Shadow replied. Amy's eyes shone and a beautiful smile decorated her face and once again, Shadow's heart skipped a beat.

"You will help me? Really?"

The pink one stood up from her chair, her hands placed on the dining table. Amy tilted her head and without noticing her ears lowered and her tail wiggled from side to side in an excited manner. The black hedgehog just began to wonder how such a cute hedgehog was able to live in such a rotten planet.

Shadow nodded once again a soft smile placed on his lips. "Yes, I will help you Master."

Amy's let out a small laugh trying to hide a little bit of her embarrassment. "Please, stop calling me Master ... I don't like it."

"How should I refer to you then?"

The moment Shadow heard Amy's soft laugh, he discovered he wanted to hear it again. Maybe if he calls her the way she wants to, he will hear it again.

As if Chaos heard his prayer, Amy smiled and giggled at the black hedgehog satisfying his need to hear her laugh once again.

"Just call me by my name," she said. "Amy Rose."

A/N: I loved writing this! This could even turn out to be a small fanfiction series but we will see about that. Thank you so much for the nice prompt! This really inspired me!!

#shadow and amy #shadamy au #Shadamy #shadowxamy #shadow the hedgehog #amyrose #Amy Rose #shadow x amy #shadow and Amy

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🎂 To Myself (Arashi Fukada)

[art by Lushia on deviantart]

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Birthday

Word Count: 1,655

Pairing: Reader x TYL! Arashi Fukada

World: Katekyo Hitman Reborn (11^ Famiglia)

Prompt: Valentine’s Day #4 by thefakeredhead

Author’s Note: I think this is the first time I’ve ever written for someone else’s original character, but it was super fun! This was written for @zeno290’s birthday featuring the original character, Arashi Fukada, created by @kiralushia! Arashi is from the 11^ Famiglia webcomic, which I highly recommend you read (webtoons | @the11thfamily).

Thank you for giving me the chance to write for one of your wonderful characters, I hope I did her justice! ^~^)/ I also feel the need to mention that I’m only on chapter eight, I believe, so I’m going by what I currently know!

━━━━━━༻ 🎂 ༺━━━━━━

You stood in front of the mirror, readjusting the outfit that you were wearing to make sure you looked presentable. Today was your birthday and your boss was taking you and the rest of the family to a nice restaurant in order to celebrate.

You glanced at the clock. The reservation is set for eight o’clock and it was only just now turning seven, but you were feeling a bit worried because your girlfriend was currently in a meeting. The eleventh family was meeting up with a rival family so that their boss, Nozomi, could try and create peace between the two families. They had been at it for an hour already and something told you that they were no closer to finding a resolution.

Arashi was going to be late for dinner, you just knew it.

Your cell phone chimed from its position on the dresser, the familiar tone letting you know who was calling without having to check the ID. A smile came to your lips as you answered it, the cool glass against your ear. “Hey, Arashi. How’s the meeting going?”

“I want to shoot them all,” she huffed in annoyance. “These guys have zero respect for Nozomi!”

You chuckled as you pictured the face she must be making. “Just don’t get blood on your clothing. The reservation is for eight so you probably won’t have time to get changed.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” she laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you for enabling me.”

“I love you, too,” you responded softly.

“Ugh, the break is over, we have to get back in.” She clicked her tongue, clearly not looking forward to rejoining the meeting. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N!”

“Okay,” you ended the call, sliding the phone back into your pocket. With one final look in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and left the apartment that you shared with the red-head.

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You stepped into the restaurant, taking in the quiet atmosphere. From what you could see, there didn’t seem to be any others inside and you briefly wondered if your boss had rented out the entire restaurant for the night. It was definitely something she would do for her beloved family.

The waiter smiled at you. “Hello! May I have your name, please?”

Upon giving him the information, his back straightened and his smile widened.

“Ah, the guest of honor! Please follow me.”

You stepped around the wooden podium into the dining room, eyes scanning the empty booths and tables. Candles lit up the room, their flames dancing across the walls like people at a club. Situated at the very back of the room to the right was a large round table where most of your family had already made themselves comfortable.

Boss was the first to notice you, hopping up from her chair and throwing her arms around you. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You couldn’t help smiling as you returned the hug. “Thank you, big sister.”

You settled down beside her as the others exchanged happy birthdays with you, asking how you were feeling and if your day had been kind to you. It had, of course. Any day that you got to spend just lazing around with Arashi was a good day, after all, but you spared them the details, simply letting them know that yes, your day had gone well.

When the last of the family had arrived, boss sent you a weary smile as the waiter approached to take the group’s order. “Do you want to wait on Arashi?”

You kept your lips in a firm line as you glanced at your phone. No messages or missed calls. “No, she will be a while.”

She didn’t seem happy about this but she nodded, offering you a smile and a pat to the shoulder. “I’m sure she will get here as soon as she can!”

“Is everyone ready to order?” The waiter questioned with a polite smile, pulling out a pad of paper and clicking the pen. Being the guest of honor, you were allowed to order first, choosing your favorite dish and drink before passing it on to the boss, who did the same. The waiter nodded once everyone had given their orders. “It will be out soon, I’ll be back with your drinks in just a moment.”

You tried to focus on the strange conversation that your family was having, but you found yourself staring out the window at the darkening sky, dotted with glittering stars against the dark velvet. Despite trying to keep yourself in good spirits, you felt a bit down. It was your birthday, after all, and yet the person you loved most was MIA.

You knew how much she loved Nozomi and the eleventh family, her loyalty unshaken no matter what happened and, while you would never make her choose between your love and the family, you still wished that she had decided to stay with you rather than running to her family. She didn’t technically need to be there for the meeting, Nozomi had said so herself, but Arashi had insisted.

The night wore on and your boss did the best she could to keep your mind off of your missing girlfriend by engaging you in conversation about various items. She tried to avoid family matters, no wanting to impose such things on your birthday, but it usually ended up back there in the end, not that you minded. You loved your family and wanted to do what you could to help your boss succeed.

In that respect, you could understand where Arashi was coming from and you briefly wondered if you would leave her on her birthday or not. So far, your boss had made sure not to bother you on Arashi’s birthday, so the situation had never presented itself to you. You couldn’t honestly say whether you would leave or not and that bothered you.

“The food was delicious!”

“Top tier, for sure~”

“I’m stuffed and ready for a nap.”

“Same here.”

As the boss pulled out her wallet to pay for the bill, which several of the members tried to dissuade her from doing to no avail, she sent you a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure she has a good reason for not showing up.”

You nodded, not commenting on the subject. “Thank you dinner, big sister.” And then you turned your gaze to the rest of the table, where your beloved family sat, sending you smiles of love and respect. “Thank you all for coming, I appreciate you being here.”

“Of course!”

“We’re happy to be here, happy birthday again!”

“We got free food, too – ow! Why’d you smack me?”

“Idiot~ Happy birthday, Y/N!”

“Rude. I mean, it’s true, but rude.”

You chuckled as the two started to bicker back and forth playfully, your woes temporarily forgotten as they bumped into the table, tipping off the jug of water and creating a panic among the other members as they tried to stop it before it could run off the table.

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The apartment was dark when you pushed open the door, kicking your shoes off by the door. You were certain that you had left the hall light on so you wouldn’t come home to darkness, but perhaps it had slipped your mind. You used your phone to light up the hall, hand fumbling for the light switch.

It clicked as you flicked it on, but no light flooded the hall. With a frown, you flicked the switch a few times, but nothing happened. Had the light blown out? Wrinkling your nose, you decided you would fix it tomorrow, too tired to care at the current moment.

You feet padded across the wooden floor as you headed for the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothing, but when you opened the door, you felt your body freeze up. The room was bathed in the flickering of candlelight, daffodil petals scattered across the floor. Movement from the corner of your eye had your gaze shifting to the side where Arashi was standing up from the wingback chair.

You felt your heart pick up speed at the sight of her silhouetted in the soft light, her dress fitting her body perfectly as her red locks contrasted against the black. She looked like a goddess in your eyes, but she always did no matter what she was wearing. Even after dating for so long, she was still able to take your breath away.

Arashi smiled sheepishly, her cheeks painted with a soft pink hue. “I’m really sorry I missed dinner. Can you forgive me?”

The sour mood you had felt quickly dissipated at the sight of your beautiful girlfriend, a smile slipping onto your lips as you crossed the distance between you. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“The truth is…” she shifted, turning her gaze to the floor. “I didn’t want to go there with your family. I wanted you all to myself…”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” you questioned softly, resting your hand on her warm cheek, forcing her brown eyes to meet yours.

“Because,” she pouted, tugging on the end of your shirt. “I knew you’d stay home if I said something! And after your boss went through the trouble of reserving the restaurant…”

“You knew about that?”

“She told me she was going to.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her waist protectively, lips finding her cheek as her hands clenched around your shirt. “You’re right, I would have stayed home with you. Big sister would have understood, you know. Next time, it will be just the two of us, okay?”

Arashi’s face lit up and she nodded. “Okay!”

With a smile, you brought your lips to hers, loving the way her arms wrapped around the back of your neck, his fingers clutching the base of your neck to deepen the kiss.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all~

━━━━━━༻ 🎂 ༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

"You really sure you don't wanna come?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for inviting me, anyway."

"Alright, then! See ya!"

You waved goodbye at your new colleagues, wishing them well, and watching them with a slight smile as they went, in groups, to the theatres to see the latest Marvel movie.

What was it again? Oh. Doctor Strange, The Multiverse of Madness.

"Would you like that movie?" You asked yourself in a low voice as you turned around and walked straight to the opposite direction. "Huh,... V?"

As a matter of fact, you would never know the answer to that question. Or maybe you could, if you invite him over to see it with him. The man has an undeniably great taste in the arts, you couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be upon seeing it.

If he would come, that is.

For one thing, he's always busy with his work as a Devil Hunter. Second, said job ate most of his free time.

Third, he lived far away from you.

You sighed as you noticed the young couple sweet talking with each other inside your favorite coffee house to your left. Clicking your tongue and cursing yourself with your luck, you decided not to torture yourself and skipped your favorite frappe for the day.

How could anyone blame you, though? It's not as if you wanted to move away from him in the first place, no.

It's this job. This job you've been dreaming of for years. Well, you loved your previous job, yes. But, the moment this great opportunity came knocking on your door, you just couldn't help but accept. However, it required you to move away from your boyfriend.

Well, the distance would mean nothing to you if the new job was only a few blocks away from home but, no. It required you to move three districts away from Red Grave. Past rustic Swan Lane and rural Gaol Town to a bustling district called Wifmann.

Your heart twitched in pain the moment you remembered V's face when he found out. Of course, the man was beyond sad, and because of that, you were willing to refuse the offer. Hell, you just can't choose career over the person you loved, no!

However, he made a selfless decision and told you it's alright to grab this once in a lifetime opportunity. He was well aware of your dreams, and he wanted you to succeed in your chosen career. And in life.

And so, here you were, living your daily life without the man you love, waking up each morning without him by your side, going to work without him to kiss you, going back home without him to hug you, and going to sleep without him to whisper sweet nothings to your ear and lull you to sleep with his soothing voice as he read to you your favorite poems.

Sometimes, you were wondering: was it really a good idea to live like this? Sure, you were getting the best things in life, your dream job, an amazingly generous pay check, the most friendly and competitive colleagues, decent bosses ( at least ), a wonderful urban neighborhood that was so different from what you were used to in Red Grave, and, very soon, a house you would call as your very own.

But, all these wonderful things,... in exchange for your one true happiness in the world.

It was very easy to say that, with each passing day, you were steadily getting bored of your monotonous, successful career woman schedule. With each passing day, you found yourself getting closer, and closer, to the inevitable. All that glitters is not gold, indeed. For once, you were lured by this shimmering bait, and now, you felt nothing. You were no longer happy with this empty existence.

And exactly eleven months later, you've had enough. You have made your decision, and you would definitely see this through.

Tomorrow, you would pass the resignation letter you made the other night. You would pass it and go home to V. You couldn't care less that you're turning your back on this so - called wonderful dream life. You're going back to your real home, and that's it.

Back to where your true happiness is.

Suppressing the tears that was brought upon by mere thoughts of your beloved, his deep, calm voice, his ever - charming smile, and his gentle green eyes, you entered the quiet suburban neighborhood and walked straight to the right where your little house was. You opened your hand bag, and took the key from it. You were about to open the door when you heard an achingly familiar sound coming from the living room inside. It was the sound of a violin, and a piano accompanying it. Someone entered your home! And,… not just someone!

The music,…

Was it,... Elgar?

Wait, if it is Elgar, then that only means - !

You grabbed the brass door knob, yelped when the door, itself, fell off its hinges, as if something forced it to open, and bolted inside, not bothering to take off your coat and bonnet,...

And there, standing in the, once, tidy kitchen and making a complete mess of it, was the man, himself, and his two familiars, who were most probably the suspects to blame for your damaged door, standing ( or flying ) right next to him, watching whatever he was making.

"I think you should put in the egg yolks, first, Shakespeare." The demonic bird instructed, as if he knew everything about baking.

"I,... don't think that's what the,... manual,... states." Came his deep voice.

"We should have watched a tutorial on the internet like what that noisy mechanic says,..." The bird answered, and as if something burned his back, he looked behind him and realized you were standing there, eyes blurry with tears and lips trembling with mirth. "Hey! Hey, V! She's here!"

The man called V turned around, green eyes wide with surprise, and pale face and jet - black hair a bit messy with flour and bits of some mysterious gooey – like red substance. And when he saw how,... emotional,... you were upon finally seeing him after such a long time, he couldn't help but tear up a little, as well.

"I,... ah,... " V stuttered, a hint of pink coloring his once pale cheeks. "Oh, my,... I,... please forgive me about the mess! I - "

"And the door," You cut him off. "And the sink. And the floor."

"Forgive me, I could clean afterwards - "

"And the music. And the surprise."

"Oh, dear! I hope you don't mind Elgar, my love,..."

"And the speaker." You sighed and smiled, finally letting your tears fall freely from your tired eyes. "Oh, V,..."

"Well, I - "

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. You running towards him and throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you without even a single care for your pristine clothes. And him reciprocating the warm hello you gave him as his arms went around your waist, holding you close, and burying his face in your fragrant hair.

Then, giving your head a tiny kiss, he whispered to your ear, his emotions overflowing in his voice, "Salut,... d'amour."

"Hello to you, too, my love." You answered, kissing him on his flour - powdered cheek. Then, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, "What are you making?"

V gulped nervously. Letting you go for a while, he looked back at the mess that he and his familiars have created on the kitchen counter, and said, "I was,... going to make you a pie. Do you,... perhaps,... love cherry, my love?"

"Cherry pie, huh?" You said, and with a smug look on your proud face, you removed your bonnet, threw it carelessly aside along with your signature handbag, rolled up your sleeves, and tied your hair up in a ponytail. "I'll gladly help." Giving a sly look to the demonic bird on V's arm, you added, "What could a Demon bird possibly know about baking?"

"HEY! AT LEAST, I'M HELPING HERE!" Griffon squawked. Then, pointing with his wing at the feline familiar who elected to rest on the floor next to the table, he said, "LOOK AT THAT KITTY! SHE'S USELESS!"

You gave out an over exaggerated sigh as you placed your hands on your hips and hummed, wondering how to patch up your beloved's mistake. Somehow, he has already messed up the whole process of making the dough, and the cherry filling he has prepared and set aside for later looked suspiciously like Slimer's middle - aged elder sister.

"But, you're tired, my love." V said as he hugged you from behind, the thing he always does to distract you whenever you're busy doing something in the kitchen. Either to tease you or do something else entirely. Either way, it always worked in the past. But, not today. "I'm sure you want to take a rest."

"Yeah, let Romeo and I handle the rest, Juliet." Griffon agreed.

"No can do, Iago." You answered with a smile as you took a clean bowl and some of the eggs from the carton. "Let me help. I insist. You've come all this way to visit me, so I want to feed you a proper meal." Turning to V and giving him a sweet smile, you added, "And I think it's about time I teach you how to bake, V."

"Would it,... take long? You must be famished by now." The man asked, tightening his hold on you as if he doesn't want to let you go anymore.

Ah, how you missed his touch, his voice, his warmth,...

... his smile and his caress,...

You missed V so, so much,...

"It doesn't matter." You simply answered as you focused on the task ahead. "We have time. We would have all the time in the world, I promise."

It took him a few moments before he realized what you just said, and when he did, his eyes widened and burned at the same time.

Did you just - ?

But, what about - ?!

"I missed you, V." You told the man, your face away from him, your eyes starting to blur once more with tears of happiness.

V smiled, feeling the same emotions as you did, and pressed his lips against your left cheek. "I missed you too, my sweet, little lady."

"I love you, V."

"I love you more, (Y/N)."

***

🌸 My short but sweet prize for @dreaming-gamer . I hope I did justice to your request. 😅😅😅🙈🙈🙈 Did a little twist. I hope you like it. ❤❤❤😊😊😊 🌸

***

🌸🌸🌸

***

#vitale sparda #devil may cry 5 #devil may oneshot #salut d'amour #v x reader #v x you #@dreaming-gamer

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afterthelastreset · 3 years

Text

Rules Of One’s Soul Ch21 The Duke’s Return

(Mak belongs to @wasted-church)

AH! Being loved and praised was such a remarkable feeling was it not?

Which is what he had been asking himself all night last night laying awake in bed for who knows how many hours after he and Jevil had parted ways that afternoon and couldn't help but feel like he wanted to ram his head against a brick wall and feel as happy as a young school boy with his first crush now....It was quite the internal debate really. But he surprisingly felt....Happy. Fulfilled even. Like a missing piece of the puzzle finally put itself together in his miserable life. Yes, he still felt regret for having to tell him something so personal but hey. His soul thumped with happiness and fulfillment and dare say...maybe...Love? Whoa. Whoa. Slow down there. Just because you two shared two personal moments and he kissed you a couple times, that doesn't automatically make you two in a relationship or even in love for all that matter. And there was still Seam to deal with and helping Lancer out with this ball idea they had been throwing together for who knows how long. That's a lot of responsibility for one child and needed to be taken seriously if he wanted to be the best father he could be. So for know he would sleep on it and return tomorrow with a fresh mind and not think of any kisses or funny laughing imp's right now.

And that went as well as you would think.

He woke up about two hours late past scheduale and he cursed as he rushed to get himself looking presentable and teleported to the castle. But what he wasn't really expecting was the amount of color to hit him all at once-....OH SWEET MOTHER OF LIGHT!! So much pink and red. The familiar slight twisted and rush of his light weight being carried through with his usually way of teleporting was quite peaceful compared to the amount of eye soar that greeted him once the beautiful white light of his glow faded away. He had to blink to make sure his brain wasn't tricking him. But nope! Pink and read decorations were everywhere. In just the hallway the duke landed in alone, there must've been at least a hundred hearts drapped from the ceiling and more frilly and lace induced decor stretching every which way he could see. .....He couldn't remember the last time he had beheld so much love induced decorating since...Well- He didn't need to be thinking about that right now did he?

"W-Welcome back, Sir." The sudden voice made him jump and whirl around only to spot a hathy just a few feet away from him. She giggled and held a tentacle to her mouth before giving him a sincerely happy smile. "It's so good to know you're break wasn't a boring one. Hehe."

"Eh...L-Likewise."

Everything beyond the hathy was as normal as he expected it to be. About every servant or guard he passed was either chatting about the upcoming ball or 'party' as he heard, or gushing about the up coming night they would hopefully spend the night with their true love. It was all rather adorable and made him chuckle a few times if he was honest. Oh he wondered how many cards he had already gotten from his admirers piled on his desk already. Begging him to go with them or swooning over his dashing looks.~....Imagine his surprise when he opened the door to his office and not only found everything clean, but with absolute no backed up paperwork and absolutely zero cards with the exception of one. The giant one left on his desk was crudely made and had a macaroni smiley face glued to the front of it's red face, and upon opening it up had a pretty stick figured portrait of himself and a small round blue potato which he could only guess was supposed to be him and Lancer holding hands. In terrible handwriting was spelt :

"mE Anb LeSSER Dad!! P.s. I TOTALLY dibs not Eat Half the CAKE!! It WAs Uncle JeviL!!"

That made him chuckle and feel himself be filled with even more joy. Oh Lancer. Ever the little scoundral....OH RIGHT!! He dropped the card back onto the desk and turned immediately to leave. He had almost completely forgotten about his little water beetle, he had to go to him immediately and see what damage had been done if an- Loud sounds and a small pair of fast footsteps approached and he could only guess who had could be. A blue circle dragged itself past the door way out of sight to the other side, before quickly changing it's direction and bulldozer it's way into the office.

"OOF-"

The blue circle blur rammed into his chest at the speed of sound and they both went down to the ground with a thump. He groaned from the impact and felt something constrict itself and bounce on his ribs.

"LESSER DAD!! YOU'RE BACK!!" The child shouted happily and leaned over his face to look down at the worm. Tongue stuck between his teeth.

"...G-Grand to seest thou too, S-Son. Now pleaseth get off mine chest," he wheezed, the spade child was heavier than he looked. But alas it seemed his boy wanted to be held because he giggled and wrapped his arms around his neck when he slowly sat up. To which the worm sighed but gladly accepted the boy's affections with open arms. It was just a little hard to stumble to his feet while holding him in his grip. But somehow he managed. Lucky him.

Lancer giggled when he was lifted up in his father's arms. "HOHOHO!! As king I get to make the Dad rules now Lesser Dad! And you're my loyal steed!!"

"Oh, art I now?" He smiled and shook his head. His eyes gazed over him, Lancer didn't seem worse for wear and it didn't look like anything had changed in the ten days he had been gone. That was a good sign. So hopefully Jevil had kept his word and had been telling the truth the whole time he was talking.

The spade cub nodded. "Yep!...Hey, Lesser Dad. What's a steed?"

The duke laughed and walked out of the office and back into the love infested castle. He still got a sorrowful feeling in his gut being surrounded by all this love, but he guessed his calm mind must've finally been catching up with reality and numbed his skittish side. It was the only logical explanation for his behavior after all. But all that aside he made his way to the royal throne room where the other kings were most likely to be, if there was anything important to discuss or plan then he needed to get right on top of it. There was no time to dilly dally after all. ....But as he walked listening to Lancer ramble on able all the cool plans him and Uncle Jevil had come up with to 'Spice up the mushy party' he noticed a few of the staff gave him side glances and wide smiles, well he couldn't blame then for their gawking. Naturally he was prime crush material.~ But then why were some giving him weird looks? Oh well. Let them be jealous of his magnifinece.

"And he said his friend was gonna help him do this trick with fireballs! And it's gonna be like BAM! KABOOM!! BANG!!" He threw his arms out momentarily making ROuxls stumble and scramble to recover balance before they fell over. Which luckily he did. "...Uh..Sorry, Dad."

He rolled his eyes with a sigh, but made a mental note to instant a backup fire safety plan. "Tis alright." They were already at the entrance to said throne room already and on the other side he could hear the very familiar sound of the King of Clubs-

"AW! It's cute Clover wants to invite him as her date!" "NO! Absolutely not!" "He's not good enough for her! NO ONE IS!!" "But he helped save us?" "Still doesn't matter!"

He shifted Lancer in his grip to where he was holding him in one arm and a blue hand reached out to the door and opened. As sure as he suspected, on the other side down the hall like room was King Clubs in all his glory. Five heads arguing about some boy or date or whatever Clover wanted to bring with her to the ball. Across from his sat King Diamond who had one of his four hands rubbing his temples probably already over the whole thing, while King Heart was busy looking at a long scroll of paper that went almost to the floor. Don't ask him how he could read without any eyes visible, but what really made him raise a brow was the length of the scroll. The kings were easily almost three feet taller than he was, so the list was incredibly long if it was almost touching his feet. Diamond was the first to notice them approach and lifted his head from his hands with a smile.

"OH! Look who we have here. The return of the noble King upon his mighty duke steed."

Lancer giggled and wagged his little tail and the Duke rolled his eyes. "Good morrow to thou too, Mine Majesties." He did a light bow or what he could manage with Lancer not quite ready to let go yet. "I haveth returned from mine ...'vacation' as I shouldst. Apologies for mine tardiness. I assure thee it willst not happy again."

King Diamond waved a hand and gave a smile. "No, no. It's fine...At least you got away from Clubs for a good while." His eyebrow rose at the still arguing Multiheaded king who while wasn't as loud anymore still angrily whisper argued to each other and groaned. "At least you got to relax-"

Rouxls chuckled dryly remembering the past ten day's events. "Heh. Thou wouldst be surprised-"

"Did you say something Diamonds?" The giant Hathy looked up from the scroll in his tentacles and turned towards Diamonds, but before the giant snake monster could reply his gaze(or what he would've considered to be his gaze if he had eyes. Actually head) turned downwards near the floor and smiled at the sight of the small king being held by Rouxls. "AH! Mr. Rouxls! You returned! Thank goodness. I could help with the last of these erronds before the ball." He gave a guilty look and shifted the long scroll. "T-There's only three day left and I haven't even finished half of these yet and I still have to speak with my beloved Amory. She'll be so disappointed if I can't help her p-pick the floral displays like I promised. "

"Fear not my majesty. I shallst see to thine preparations accordingly."

"OH! Thank you! You're a life saver!" A major relief came over the giant hathy's face and Rouxls was happy to serve his Kings again. It would be a good distraction for what regretful feelings were being felt. "H-Here." He lowered the giant scroll down to the Duke who extended a hand to take it. "I-It's everything that needs to be done before then."

Rouxls smiled and held the list up to his face, expecting most of what was already on the long thing to be crossed out or marked as done...But his smile quickly dropped upon seeing the long list of things needed to be done. To be fair a giant portion of the list was crossed off, and the King being a bigger darkner of course had bigger handwriting so the words despite only being a few deeds, still needed a longer list of paper to accommodate the larger handwriting. Giving it the illusion of it being a long list of things when in fact it was only a few large words on the list. He was used to it, so that's not what shocked in. What shocked him was the amount of work, each task remaining task brought-

- Send out one invitation per darkner family

- Prepare the feast

- Give forth the orders of no 'adult talk' during the ball

He guessed he added that last one for Lancer, he could just add that into the invites. But that was only a few out of what must have been twenty or so. Lancer leaned a little closer to the list and pointed at a few crossed out words.

"Uncle Jevil and I did that one! And that one! I got to help him decorate and he showed me lots of tricks! He let me pick the best one ones for the 'enter-containment'!" He beamed with pride as his tail wagged. But Rouxls wasn't smiling at his happiness this time.

Instead his gaze slowly turned to the nervous looking Hathy who was tapping his tentacles together and smiling apologies at him. "Sire. Pardon mine doubts in thou's abilities, ...but didst thou really not getteth ANY of this finished within the month thou has planned and mine time away from the castle?''

King Heart chuckled nervously. "U-Um..W-Well, we got...some of it done, b-b-but we couldn't really decide about which one of our ideas we should do f-for the invites a-and other things. Hehe..heh."

The other two things had fallen silent and gave each other guilty looks over it all. Rouxls sighed and gave the list in his hand another look over bouncing Lancer in one of his arms...This would take a lot of work, but also to get these kings back on track, he knew very well he couldn't just invite every Darkner on the entire kingdom. There must've beeen thousands of subjects in their small kingdom alone....They could just invite the castle staff and encourage everyone else to celebrate it there own way. Much easier to manage than thousands of citizens. Which just left the castle staff and nobles like himself....Which still left easily around three hundred people. Oh dear light he could feel himself already getting tired at just one job alone, but like with any task, he'd be sure to come up with something. After all, Rouxls Kaard was never one to give up easily. Whelp. So much of his relaxing vacation-

"Uncle Jevil can help!" Lancer shouted startling the poor Duke into almost dropping him again. "..Oops. Sorry Lesser Dad. But Uncle Jevil can help! He can-"

"Letteth me guess," He interrupted him with a roll of his eyes, "He canst so anythinge."

"...Actually he can help with all these invite-tation thingies. He can write paper really fast like when he did all your work!"

Rouxls looked at the child with a raised brow, "Jevil didst all mine paperwork?" Lancer nodded his head yes with a hum.

Well whaddya know. The loon actually kept his word by taking on all his tasks and getting everything done it seemed, of course he'd still have to ask Lancer a few questions about the events of the past few days to be completely sure, but it did seem like he had nothing to worry about beyond this giant impossible list...which had to be complete within three days including today. He cooed thinking about it...Except he didn't coo. That sound came from the giant Hathy who sighed and held his tentacles against his head as if he adored the sight before him, Rouxls had no idea what about him discussing the list with Lancer was so adorable but he guessed Lancer was the cutest little water beetle-

"OH! There's nothing more I'd rather see than blossoming love!" Rouxls smiled and rolled his eyes good naturdly but froze by the king's next words. "Amory and I never really got along at first either, but after we sparked and talked it over it was like we were meeting a whole new person! There was nothing we wouldn't do for one another even to this day!~ *sigh*"

King Diamond groaned and reached a hand up to rub his temples. "I swear you get too wishy washy at the tiniest things-"

"E-Excuseth me mine majesties," he interrupted before another arguement could be sparked between them, "But what art thou speaking of?"

"Oh? Well yours and Mr. Jevil's newly established relationship of course! It's so nice to see him settling down and so happy. He said hopefully there'll be little pitter patters of children soon!" He giggled like he was expressing a romantic novel he had just read. And failed to notice the dropping face of the Duke before him in horror at what he was being told. "Oh it'll be grand to have young life around the halls again."

Lancer grinned and turned to Rouxls excitedly. "I get a baby brother?!"

Rouxls fell silent. The weight of the situation hitting him like a sack of bricks. Not that anyone really noticed at the moment, except for Little Lancer who tilted his head at his father's weird face. Flashes of everyone's funny looks his way came back to him, flooding his brain with it, as well as the suspicious lack of love letters this year and with what King Heart had just said-.....

"EXCUSE ME!! WHAT?!" Any sound or talking was quickly shut up upon the duke's high pitched voice peircing their ears painfully and bouncing off the walls, the kings and Lancer wincing back at the loud shout and stare at him with confusion racked faces. Even the always arguing King Clubs had stopped to marvel at the duke who looked ready to faint from embarrassment judging by his flushed face. Even the guards stationed within the room looked almost uncomfortable watching this- "P-Pardon mine s-sudden outburst, Your Royalties. But t-t-that worm and I are nay in ANY sort of r-romantical s-s-shennanigans!"

"....Really?" His tone seemed genuinely confused, and when Rouxls nodded Heart hummed and brought a tentacle up to rub his chin. "Oh my, my, my. Well this certainly is an awkward position to have put you in isn't it? My apologies. ..Although I guess now it makes sense as to why he said he wasn't accompanying you to the ball, I suppose. He must've been referring to a different Kaard with a similar sounding I guess...." He leaned down near eye level with the worm and the duke did was he always did in this kind of situation and smiled wide and nervously. "Are you quite sure? With all the facts he stated I could've sworn it was you?"

Not being one to lie to any of the royal family of course, the duke swallowed the lump in his throat and gave a nervous chuckle to the giant Hathy's confused frown. "I-I-I w-well...I guesseth over t-t-the course of ...however l-long we hadst been having a..fewest teeny tiny r-rendenvous??"

Heart looked at him for a bit longer, a few drops of slime forming at his face at the close proximity, but eventually a realization smile came over him and he leaned back up. "OH! I understand now. Silly me, he's courting you!"

Rouxls....blinked. Courting? Well if one looked at what exactly Jevil did do over the entirety of his behavior ever since that day before the lightners came, and with all he was doing up til now, one could quite consider his behavior as if Jevil was really courting him. The thought hadn't crossed his mind til now, but he guessed this did count as the fool's own way of 'courting'. "U-Uh-...Y-Yes. It wouldst appeareth so." His wide smiled appeared back on his face. "W-Wouldst thou excuseth mineself for just a moment- ...YOU THERE?!" He whirled around and pointed at one of the Rudinn guards in the room, the poor guard jumped and almost dropped his spear from the sudden action. "Send word out for the Court Jester immediately."

The guard gave a salute to the duke and without a word to argue they turned and slithered off towards the door as fast as Rudinn possible, thumbling his weapon a few times and dropping it with a clang before just leaving it and diving out the door. Spear forgotten in the door entrance. Rouxls stared a moment longer before sighing and straightening up, Lancer was giving him a concerned look.

"...Is Uncle Jevil in trouble?"

Rouxls flinched but gave a reassuring smile. "None at all, Little King." His teeth gritted under that smile and his eye twitched. "I just wisheth to discuss his...h-help with a few things is all."

"....Does this mean I don't get a baby brother?"

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

The fire crackled peacefully in the room as the ones within it sat silently doing there own personal business. Seam sitting at the counter lazily like he did most days, now a days it was just a bit more busier than usual. Every few hours or so, a Rudinn or Hathy would come in, frantically looking around at the shelves and picking out one of his random knickknacks or buy some candy to give to their beloved as a last minute gift. Too bad he wouldn't be open on the actual holiday. Meanwhile Jevil was busy trying to sew up any odd patches or small threads in that odd purple suit of his...You would think anyone who would be able 'to do anything' would be decent at sewing, but it appears the master of chaos wasn't mastering this.

"....You got the wrong seam again." The child crawled their way across the couch and point to the messy attempt that was a yarn stitched up hole in the side. Mak tilted their head at it. "It looks sloppy."

Jevil grumbled and held it up to take a look at the terrible stitching job. They were right. It wouldn't do at all for the event if he wanted to do his best, and of course if a child thought it looked sloppy then who knows what everyone else would think. A laugh caught his ears and he turned to see Seam smiling at the two of them with a head tilt. Jevil had been at this thing for a while now. Who knew he was a perfectionist?

"Would you perhaps like me to help you? I think I have decent skill with needle and thread." He reached a paw up to rub the top on his head where the giant black patch was.

But of course Jevil shook his head. "No, no! I can do anything! Something as simple as sewing, sewing is beneath me." Once look back to his messy yarn stitch made him give off a nervous chuckle. "...It'll just take some time, time."

Seam chuckled and turned back to the sheap entrance. "Suit yourself."

Every since the discovery about the Duke...a lot of things have fallen into place. Rouxls's reluctance to touch and affection, his nervous habits, his scars-...And why he was so concerned about the boy's well being. Seam bristled. Just thinking about having to endure what the duke did and still be so proud of his job and take on the role of father to the very child of the terrible king...But he couldn't judge too much. After all he taken his own metaphorical beatings and taking a small ankle biter of his own-...His ear twitched and his head tilted towards the flap door of the sheap. A moment later it flapped open and a green blur plopped to the ground. Seam didn't even flinch as he looked down at the green puddle gasping for breath on his sheap floor.

"...Welcome, Stranger. What brings you to my sheap?"

The green puddle, who was a very tired looking Rudinn wheezed out and slowly raised his head to gaze up at the giant stuffed cat. "...*wheeze* T-T-The Duke has s-s-sent for the Court Jester-...I-Imediately. hhhaaaa-"

His face plopped back to the floor and Seam hummed. Turning around and finding Jevil staring in their direction. "You hear that Jevil? Apparently you're wanted at the castle."

A giggle came from the Jester and his tail wagged, thumping against the couch with soft thumps. Standing up, suit falling into the paws of Mak who gave it a look over.

"Oh. Yes, yes. Who am I to deny royalty, royalty.~"

#fanfic #seaxls #jeam #seavil #rouxvil #rouxlvil #nosuit #Deltarune #jevil x rouxls #jevil x seam #seam x jevil #seam x rouxls #rouxls kaard x seam #rouxls kaard x jevil #rouxls x jevil #rouxls x seam #seam #jevil #rouxls kaard

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stanskzseungmin · 5 years

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HJS ~ The Princess and the Pirate

Pirate! Jisung x Royal! Reader! X (Mentioned) Royal! Chan

Fairytale! + Fantasy! AU

Word Count: 3756

Genre: Angst

A/N: I am using the word “pirate” quite liberally for this story. Jisung isn’t your typical blundering scurvy of the high seas...more like the high...sky? Just, Jisung is not a good person.

A/N 2: This is the same AU as my KWJ ~ I am You, so if you see similarities between the two, you know why x’D

A/N 3: Yes, I just high key copy and pasted the beginning bit of my WJ one here.

A/N 4: Again, not proofread. Shocking lmao. #WeDyingLikeMEN

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there were two kingdoms. One kingdom is a warring kingdom that relied heavily on military. This kingdom prides itself on its massive well trained armies and futuristic technologically advanced aerial warships and mechanized weapons.

The second kingdom wasn’t as militaristically inclined. This kingdom prides itself on its pacifist nature and on its massively well read population and royals. They believe that words are far superior weapons.

Due to the opposing views, tensions arose between the two kingdoms. The military kingdom offered protection under their well trained and well equipped armies in exchange for full willing submission. The pacifist kingdom would politely refuse due to the peaceful times they’re living in. Neither kingdoms were in any danger.

But the military kingdom had other plans. The military kingdom wanted to expand its empire to broaden its reach and influence. The only roadblock: the peaceful kingdom. It was as if the peaceful kingdom had sheltered all the other tribes and villages under their roof by alluring them with sweet words. But words aren’t what makes the world run, it’s a showcase of power.

Everyone within the royal family is well trained in the art of combat. The king is well adept in the art of sword fights and the queen is a master of fencing and she took it upon themselves to train all the guards. In a grand room made of white marble with large windows lining the walls, the sunlight were illuminating the room. There dressed in white protective gear and a fine mesh white mask. Many trainees were in pairs as they were sparring with their sabres. The trainees were overseen by the queen. She had a straight posture with both hands folded neatly behind her back, a sabre held securely flush against her back. Her long dark locks were pulled up into a tight top bun. She wore a tight fitting knee length white dress that was slightly longer in the back long puffy sleeves and a vertical slit cuffed at the wrist as a lovely grey corset wrapped her torso. To finish off the look, she wore knee high leather heel boots. The clicking of her heels was enough to spur anxiety as she held a calculative gaze over everyone. There was a group of trainees gathered around. They surrounded what seemed to be an awe inspiring fight. A singular sabreur was single handedly taking down and disarming everyone who step forward to attack.

“Wow, is that the genius?” one of the trainees whispered.

“Oh so his highness i the genius everyone speak of?” another asked.

The genius handed their sabre to a trainee who came up and and bowed prior to leaving.

“What are you talking about? The genius isn’t the prince,” the sabreur loosened the strap behind their head and they pulled the mask off swinging their head back and forth letting their long locks uncurl and fall delicately against their back. “The genius is the princess.”

“Y/N,” the queen’s voice was stern and commanding. “You are to appear before your father in the throne room half past noon.”

“Yes, mother,” you bowed politely as you head out to change to a proper attire.

Your servant aided you by your styling your dark locks into soft curls and held back with a hair comb. You don a lavish pink silk dress that extended to the floor with a long sleeves that extended past your hands and a blue silk wrap around your torso giving you a rather oriental appearance.

Folding your hands in front of you as you held up the front of your skirt, you head towards the throne room before your father. The guards has opened the large ravish dark oak doors for you as you walked towards your conversing father and elder brother.

“Big brother. Father,” you greeted bowing slightly before them. You fell before deaf ears.

“This blasted kingdom with their talks of peace!” the king, your father, ranted pacing back and forth and throwing his arms in the air. “Why can’t they just make it easy and just surrender to us! Pathetic king.”

“I have a suggestion, father,” your brother started, raising an arm in suggestion.

“Invasion?”

“No!” you interjected. “Invasion will disturb our times of peace, those who ally will them will turn on us if we settle on invasion.”

“Bold words from my daughter, it’s as if you’re one of them! We need to expand, my daughter. Our power must grow and remain unmatched. We will become the greatest kingdom of all.”

“But father, we must focus on within, there are pirates and bandits within our boundaries.”

You brother scoffed as he chuckled softly to himself.

What you believed was dangerous and speaking your mind could get you jailed or banished. Or worse-- killed. This used to be the palace of your childhood-- a place where you once called home with a loving father, mother, and brother. But now after countless victories during the tides of war, their power and influence soared as did their hubris. Your family became strangers.

You straightened up and inhaled shakily. “In order to establish a large empire, a sturdy foundation is needed. If the foundation falls, the entire empire falls.“

“My daughter, you are dearest to me. What do you suggest we do?”

“Father, I may have a better suggestion. Two birds with one stone. Sister is right when she mentioned a strong foundation. If we invade the the other kingdom we would have a follower of distrust. Since it is beloved’s sisters idea, she could marry the other kingdom’s prince with the promise of peace. Lower the guard, then strike when they least expect it!”

“Big brother!” you snapped offended by the elder’s suggestion.

“Why, that’s a brilliant idea! Wonderful!” your father exclaimed pridefully.

“Father! You promised that you wouldn’t marry me off! I am not an object that could be handled and passed,” you pleaded. Your voice was weak and cracking as your eyes welled up in tears from betrayal.

“Times change, my dear,” your father stated. Turning to your brother, “I will prepare the aerial ships and calvary for the upcoming attack. My son, travel to the other kingdom offering our proposal. My dearest daughter can marry their eldest, Bang Christopher Chan.”

“But father!” you tried to interject.

“Silence!” your father boomed. “You’re dismissed.”

You dashed out of the room feeling utterly destroyed and betrayed. The clinking of your heels echo loudly throughout the marble floors of the hallways. Tears free fell from your eyes as your check constricted painfully. Pulling open the door of your room and slamming it shut behind you, you threw yourself onto your bed sobbing into your arms. You remained in bed for a couple of hours wallowing in your self pity. The sun had set and your room became enveloped in darkness.

Sniffling softly you looked to your bedside table. Resting atop of it in a delicate frame was a past picture of your family. It displayed the smiling faces of your younger parents, you of your childhood years and your elder brother of his teenage years. The family of yours… of the past-- of your childhood. They were not your family anymore. This was no longer your home. Blinking your stray tears away, you stood up, kicking away your heels, unwrapping your blue wrap and letting your hair free from its comb. You slid on a pair of comfortable flats as you rummage through your room, pulling back at the week stones to reveal a hidden compartment. Your fingers delicately grasped at the item wrapped in lining. You dragged your fingers over the fabric as your heart beat in nostalgia. You quickly unwrapped the item revealing a custom rapier that your elder brother had gifted your years before. It was your most prized possession, it was the only thing you had left of your elder brother. You secured it to your waist via a simple black belt. You climbed out your window as you looked one last time at the room of your childhood as you turned away and disappeared into the night.

The night was Han Jisung’s veil. As soon as the daylight diminishes, Jisung slithers out of the darkness and begin to wreak havoc. Jisung hated the empire with a vengeance. His parents were victims of the empires unnecessary wars and conquests. While they gained, the people suffer. Whenever they boast and lie about their victories and gloat about the people’s sacrifice as honorable, another person pays the price. The person is the people.

Ever since the death of his parents, Jisung became a pirate and swore to take down the empire. He hardly had any empathy for the inhabitants of the empire. They blindly follow the empire like the sheeple they are without doubt that the empire is the sole reason for their suffering. They only see the glory and power, not the destruction and the pain.

Jisung befriended the bandits and ruffians of the empire that shared his view. One of which is his closest friend, Hwang Hyunjin. They bonded over their shared pain feeling empathy and condolences towards the other’s situation. He too lost his family due to the war. With the combined might and experience in the arts of deceit and manipulation, they’re able to secure an aerial ship from the military when they were beaten and battered by war. Together with his close friend, Hyunjin, they both lead that ship. Hyunjin and the ship were currently situated hidden deep outside the walls with Jisung within the main walls working as the inside man, learning information, gathering resources and weakening their supplies.

Jisung was currently jumping from roof to roof taking reconnaissance of the area he was in. In the dark veils of the night and the poorly lit streaks, he spotted a figure in pink dressed in the finest silk sticking out like a sore thumb. Jisung immediately recognized you. You were the crowned princess of this accursed empire. Hatred bubbled within his chest as he drew his blade. However, a thought did cross his mind. Why were you wandering the streets at night when pirates, bandits, rapists and murderers hiding in the shadow?

Speak of the devil because a group of men stumbled out of the speakeasy. The were obnoxiously loud and bordering the point of unconsciousness. They obviously were drunk with the stumble in their step, the slurs of their words and their reddened faces.

“Ayy, fellas. Look at this beauty,” the man slurred. The other men laughed as they surrounded her.

“Begone or you will regret it,” you threatened, your voice stern as you reached for your trusted sabre.

Jisung smirked at your bravado.

“The kitten wants the play,” another man chuckled as they all began to grab at you.

“Stop!” you commanded trying to tear away from their grip.

Although Jisung despised you, he despised victims being taken advantage of even more. Grumbling softly to himself, Jisung leapt off the roof landing before the men with a loud thud.

“Leave the young lady alone,” Jisung threatened, his voice dripping with venom.

“Mind your own business, kid,” one spat.

“How about you mind yours?”Jisung threatening unsheathing his blade.

Sensing Jisung’s heated aura and gazing upon on his blade, they realized he was deadly serious as they all scrambled off in fear.

“I- you didn’t have to, kind sir,” you bowed slightly. “I thank you.”

Jisung warily looks at you up and down and hesitantly accepts her gratitude.

“Do you not have anywhere to go?” Jisung started, sheathing his blade in the holdest by his side.

You shook your head. “Not anymore,” you whispered.

Jisung contemplates taking you in, after all you are the enemy, but a brilliant thought struck him. You were the crowned princess of the empire. He could use you as leverage to take down the empire.

“Would you like to stay with me? I know a place,” Jisung offered with a sickenly sweet smile.

You bit your lip contemplating your offer. It wouldn’t be long before you were noticed to be missing and you couldn’t risk being seen. There were a high rise of crime activity within the walls during the night. You sighed as you were left with no other option.

You nodded hesitantly. “If it wouldn’t bother you, I accept.”

Jisung smiled as he led you to his hidden spot. It was run down and broken. The old wood was splintering and wearing away with age. The building looked to be abandoned long ago. There were hardly any furniture, the ones that were there were in disrepair and dusty. There were several coarse cloths and rags lining the walls and the floors.

“What is your name? I would like to know the name for the kind man who has saved me,” you smiled politely.

“Jisung,” he stated. Jisung decided to give out his actual name to gain your trust. You were valuable to his plan to take down the empire.

“I am F/N,” you decided against revealing your true identity. Jisung scoffed internally. Of course you would give a fake name.

Time goes by and the pair become closer. Some nights where Jisung would sit at the window watching the stars, he thinks back to all the times he spent with his family and his close friend, Hyunjin. These were the nights Jisung felt the loneliness creep in. However, your presence made those nights feel a little easier. Jisung enjoyed the little talks you would have and you felt the same. You both had similar views about the victims of war. Like Jisung, you wanted to help. You both would bunker down during the day as Jisung occasionally left to gather some new clothes and supplies as well as bringing some food. You often wonder where Jisung would get the supplies and you were certain it wasn’t by legal ways, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. When night fell and you are fast asleep, Jisung tended to slip out and meet up with Hyunjin outside the walls to discuss future plans.

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asked. “Are you still going to use her?”

Jisung contemplated it. His heart ached at the thought of deceiving you.

“I want to let her in,“ Jisung whispered.

“What?” Hyunjin breathed out. “But she’s the enemy?”

“I can’t leave her alone. She isn’t like what we thought at all,” Jisung looked directly at his best friend’s eyes. Jisung expect Hyunjin to blow up at him and shouting profanities at him and how he’s risking it all. He didn’t expect for Hyunjin to smile at him fondly.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asked with sincerity.

“Really?” Jisung stuttered.

“What?”

“You’re not going to give me shit?”

“No, you deserve to be happy,” Hyunjin smiled.

Jisung couldn’t ignore the change he’s been feeling. He’s grown fond of you. His heart would beat rapidly whenever in close proximity with you. Jisung could swear his cheeks were beet red whenever you smiled and let out a whole hearted laugh. His heart skipped a beat whenever your eyes would shut whenever you laughed. Your laugh was like music to his ears. Whenever you were happy, he was as well.

Currently, you both were sitting under the shade of a tree just outside the walls watching the sunset. The atmosphere was tense and quiet, but they found comfort just being in close proximity of each other. Both were looking off to the side, distracted by the thoughts running through your minds. You were debating on whether or not to reveal your true identity and Jisung was thinking the same. What if you wouldn’t stay? Would you hate him?

“Jisung?” you soft voice broke through the silence and snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Y-yea?” Jisung cursed at himself mentally for stuttering.

“I have something to tell you,” you gulped. “I would like for you to listen to what I have to say fully before you say anything.”

“Of course.”

Letting out a shaky exhale, you began to reveal everything. Your real name and how you ran away from the empire. You didn't like their militaristic ideas and the monsters they’ve become because of power. They weren’t your family anymore. Your voice was weak and was cracking as you continued on, pausing every once in a while to sniffle and gasp, wiping away your tears.

Jisung pulled you into his arms and comforted you. He rubbed small circles onto your back as he pulled you into his chest. Your fingers reach up for the fabric and gripped it, letting the tears flow. Jisung could feel the wet spots forming on his shirt, but he couldn’t care less.

“I’m scared,” you whispered out. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be taken back.”

“You won’t. I promise,” Jisung’s words were sincere.

You both made eye contact and it seemed fireworks exploded. Both your hearts lept in your chests as lingering gazes fell straight to the lips. Getting caught up in the moment, the two lean in. Their noses touch lightly as rubbed against each other softly. Both erupted into big smiles and small giggles. They leaned in ever so closer as a harsh gush of wind snaps them out of the moment. They quickly pull away and blush.

“Well, well,” a voice started. You both jumped up at the voice. You squeaked as you recognized the figure before you

“B-big brother!” You hide behind Jisung.

He chuckles darkly. “Little sister, it’s been so long. Don’t you know how worried I was?”

“Leave her alone,” Jisung threatened, recognizing the lies weaved within his sweet words.

“You never cared about me,” you accused as you glared at him, willing away the tears that threatened to spill.

“But I have, I always did. Do you really think this boy going to protect you?”

“Better than you…” you spat.

“Dear sis, I would like to have you know is that this man has been lying to you all along,” your elder brother smirked.

“W-what are you talking about?” Jisung stammered. “I haven’t lied to her.”

He smirked, ignoring Jisung. “Dearest sister. Han Jisung here is a pirate! Did you really believe he cares for you? He’s our enemy!”

“W-what?” you choked, feeling your heart shatter. “Y-Y/N,” Jisung stammered as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Is...is it true?” you whispered.

Jisung wept as he nodded pathetically. “Y-yes. Yes, I am. I’m a pirate, but I meant everything I sa-”

You shove him back. “Don’t. You-You lied to me. You were going to use me all along were you.” Tears now ran down your cheeks in waterfalls as you backed away from him. You felt the familiar sting of betrayal as you did back then.

“Y/N please, I'm not using you. I really care for you. Y/N, I love-” .”

You cut him off, placing your hands over your ears and screamed, “Stop. Stop it. I don't wanna hear any more of your lies!”

You ran off sobbing profusely.

“Wait!” Jisung tried to chase after you, but your older brother cut him off. He chuckles at Jisung with a dark look in his eyes. Growling at the elder, Jisung unsheathed his knife as he took a swing at him. Your brother easily dodging Jisung’s attack. As if he was playing with a baby, your brother easily sidestepped the flurry of Jisung’s attack. Jisung lunged at him with a loud roar as he sidestepped Jisung and bringing a hand down to the back of his neck. Jisung’s eyes widen as he gasped. Jisung fell unconscious to the floor upon contact.

You were found huddling behind a bush, your knees pulled to your chest. You sobbed pathetically as your body shook. You gasped and wheezed as you tried to control your tears, but they kept coming out in never ending streams. A pair of legs appeared into view. You looked up at the figure.

“B-big brother.”

“Baby,” he smirked using the nickname he always referred to you by in your younger years. He outstretched his arms, prompting you to run into them. Your elder brother enveloped your sobbing form in a big hug.

“Poor baby got her heart broken by the pirate, haven’t she?.” He paused.

You sobbed, nodding pathetically in his chest.

“I’m sor-” You gasped as your eyes widen.

He ran you through with a small blade with it piercing through her heart. “This is your punishment for defying the empire.” The fabric of began to stain a brilliant red from your blood.

He gently set you down on the soft grass and delicately closed your eyes, planting a small kiss on your forehead..

“Rest well, little sister.”

“Jisung,” a voice echoed. “Jisung!”

Jisung slowly opens his eyes and groaned. The back of his head was throbbing from where he was struck.

His eyes widened as he quickly sat up. “Y/N!”

“Jisung? What’s the matter?” Hyunjin asked with worry etched on his face.

“I need to- I need to find Y/N!”

“What has happened?”

“Her brother! He found her.”

Hyunjin nodded, understanding the situation. He offered Jisung his hand. “We’ll find her.”

They went their separate ways. Jisung looked around the surrounding locale as he went in to investigate the outskirts of the woods. Jisung froze in his tracks. His eyes are wide as he gazed at the sight before him. Horror was etched on his face. Jisung dropped to his knees. His breath was taken away and his heart was hammering in his chest. Tears began welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N?” He choked out.

You was lying there with you hands neatly folded over her body in a pool of your own blood. Dried tears decorated your cheeks. You looked to be at peace. Despite the dried tears, your face was free of any pain and appeared as you were having a peaceful slumber. Jisung slowly crawled his way over to you. He reached out to touch you. His fingers were feathering over your cheeks as if he was afraid of breaking you even more. Jisung carefully brought you up to his chest and delicately wrapped his arms around you as he erupted into loud sobs.

He screamed out, his voice tearing through the silence of the night. “I’m-I’m sorry… I’m so so so sorry. I love you, I love you so much.”

Jisung let out one last sob as he collapsed with you in his arms.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids han #skz han #han jisung #stray kids jisung #skz jisung

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

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Αιώνια αγάπη(DT AU), pt. 6

06: In Art We Trust

Summary: After losing their house, the Kappa’s learn of bylaws the original Kappa’s refused to follow. Leading them into a new tomorrow, Y/N finds herself in over her head with two men who no longer hide their intentions from her.

Warnings: angst

Word count: ~ 3000

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

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Special thanks to @mutuallynotmutual for being in the story as Alyssa, @leonardo-da-vinsheep as Perry and @daddygraysonsbitch as Sara, with special mentions of @godlydolans as Yashi.

Also a big thank you to @grungegrant for drawing Grayson as Apollo

Shocked, worried, a little lost. It’s barely enough to describe what Y/N felt once she grabbed what was left of her things and pulled it to the KDR porch. She watched the billowing smoke color the night sky in all shades of grey, the flames engulfing what she saw as home for the first time since her mother passed.

Her bottom lip quivered, the corners of her eyes wrinkling along with her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, sending herself into a state of numbness to survive the collapsing future her mother always nudged her toward. Her heartbreak could be heard from miles away if one would just stop and listen, yet she let not a single sob escape her.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” Alyssa cupped Y/N’s face, following the tracks her tears made as they cleaned a path through smoke mattered cheeks.

“Yeah.” Y/N breaths out.

I’m not, she thinks.

“Grayson fucking Dolan kissed you.” Alyssa whisper shouts, giggling.

“I would be out of it too.” She winks, deciding to take the bad and push it down to let the good in and in Alyssa’s mind that kiss was a pot of gold.

It snapped Y/N back to reality, her eyes widening once she remembered Grayson, THE GRAYSON, followed her into the fire and helped her save her mother’s painting and much more. And yes, he kissed her. He kissed her and took the very breath from her lungs and she could barely form words to describe how heavenly his kiss felt, but she couldn’t afford to do that anyway. One whiff of what happened and Blair would have her out of the Kappas before she has a chance to utter an apology.

“I won’t tell. Promise.” Alyssa must have noticed her distress, immediately putting her fears to rest and giving a reason to love her more. It was so clear she was going to be someone Y/N keeps in her life for a lot longer than college lasts.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled, leaning into Alyssa as they watched the firemen try and salvage what is left of their beloved sorority house.

“I’m still super jelly.” Alyssa whispers under her breath, making Y/N cackle and lightly slap her arm to stop.

Even when dawn came in to announce a new day, the smoke had painted the skies a dull mix of black and grey, the fire just dying out.

The girls stood outside, most in their skimpy party dresses, some still drunk or just sobering up.

They were all called back to the Dean’s office, fifteen of them needed inside.

“I’ll keep your stuff safe.” Grayson mouths, trying to be inconspicuous. He got a small smile for his effort, one he took as a win considering how angry she looked when their kiss broke.

Once the Dean called them in, all of them gathered, some crying for their things and others for food.

“There will be an investigation to determine the reason why this fire happened. I expect the fire marshal to have news for me this or tomorrow afternoon. I know you girls are scared, hungry, tired and homeless as of now. The bylaws are clear on how we proceed next. You’re moving into the fraternity next door as they are your brother fraternity and they are willing to help.” The Dean announced, looking at all the gobsmacked girls nearly faint with his decision.

“But we’re not allowed to mix with KDRs.” Sara chuckles, looking at Blair who resembles a drowned rat more than the supposedly fabulous leader she claimed to be. Y/N could tell Sara is purposely pushing Blair’s buttons, hoping she’ll explode. It’s obvious no one really likes the blonde tyrant.

“There must be a mistake.” Blair practically growls, making Y/N roll her eyes and step forward to the Dean’s desk. Graciously, she turns to her Kappa sisters.

“Kappa sisters. I may be a freshman and have no knowledge of what the KDRs are like, but I sure as hell know I don’t want to be homeless. I’m sure we can withstand a year with the guys while the Dean calls in the rich alumni for generous donations.” Y/N glances over her shoulder with a smirk, knowing she just made sure the Dean has to take on this project.

“Now, be a dignified Kappa sister and turn these lemons into lemonade.”

“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.” Perry confirms, standing with Y/N on her statement before Blair has a chance to throw a tantrum that would lose the girls their home.

Standing ovation for a few words? Well, Y/N didn’t expect that either, but she didn’t shy away from it like she usually did. Instead, she courtesies with a smile, joining Alyssa, Sara and Perry in the middle of their group and leads the sisters out. Doing so, she missed the glare Blair sent her way, not knowing Blair had witnessed her indiscretion just as Alyssa did.

The girls gathered before the frat with a signed decree of sorts from the Dean, ordering the frats to make room for them.

To their surprise, the guys welcomed them with arms wide open and understanding smiles, letting them into their homes without any issues.

Grayson and Ethan practically materialized from thin air to welcome Y/N, wanting to make sure she’s alright but each with their own hidden agenda.

They started the fire.

That voice returned, scaring Y/N into a small jump, making her look around wildly.

I’m losing my mind, she thought with her heart still beating fast.

“You good?” Ethan asks, biting his lower lip lightly.

While he did start the fire, he never knew she’d be crazy enough to run into a burning building. It made his senses go into overdrive, slightly pushing him to guilt, mostly because he hated the frown upon her beautiful lips. The same lips his brother had kissed and he had yet to taste them.

In the few hours he had of Grayson pestering him for taking such a supposedly unnecessary risk, explaining she could have been killed almost stopped his heart altogether.

But she didn’t die and my plan is working, he tells himself.

“Fine.” She responds absentmindedly, her gaze wandering in an attempt to find the source of the voice in her head instead of constantly being scared she’s lost her senses.

“I, uh, took the liberty of putting an extra bed in my room for you if that’s not too awkward.” Grayson rubs the back of his neck nervously, watching her closely because she not only scared the shit out if him, but also nearly died for a few boxes and a painting. He didn’t understand the obsession mortals have about earthly things that belonged to those who were not in this world anymore, but he wanted to. He needed to.

“Our room, he means.” Ethan corrects his brother, reminding him he too is moving in because there is not a chance in hell he will let them share a bedroom. It would be a sure recipe for his defeat.

“We put three brothers in a single room to give every bed we could to the girls, but one still has to share a room with us and we thought it could be you.” Grayson explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as she stares up at him with her doe eyes through those thick, long eyelashes.

“Okay.” Y/N’s eyes flicker from one brother to the other suspiciously, thinking she’s definitely going to lose her mind now. Sharing a bedroom with twins who look like perfection? Easy, right?

Clapping his hands confidently, Grayson encases her right hand in his and pulls her inside.

The house itself is a lot neater than Y/N imagined a frat would be, the colors blending in different shades of white and green, KDR written in gold in the foyer.

Ethan takes her free hand, moving her along as well and although she should take control and retract her hands, she lets them lead her up the stairs.

One look around is enough for her to see all her sisters are being shown to their rooms by the guys, none of them fighting contact either.

Contact is comforting in this case, a necessary dash of heaven mixed with a lick of hell’s fire. One she would die to feel upon her skin all the time if that was an option.

Entering their shared bedroom, Y/N’s lips curl up, noticing it’s the same room she watched Grayson in from the other side of the window. There was a whole part she couldn’t see, the same one that now had two beds, several blank canvases and paint around, only one covered up from curious eyes.

Naturally, it sparked her interest.

“You, uh…paint?” Y/N took a few uncertain steps toward the covered painting, glancing at a sweaty Grayson who looked like he would rather swim with sharks than show her what’s under.

“I dabble.” He nods his head faintly, glancing at Ethan who pushed a few boxes to a bed he decided would be his.

“Can I see?” She quirked an eyebrow, watching Grayson turn into a nervous wreck.

“Ethan, help me out here?” She calls on the silent twin.

“Don’t be a lite bitch, Gray. Show her.” Ethan teased, joining in. He’ll take any chance to talk to her and he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity.

Without permission, Ethan unveiled the painting himself, turning with a grin toward her but instead of a smile he found Y/N to be pale and she stumbles, falling to her knees when Grayson jumps in to catch her. The thud is barely heard, significantly lessened by Grayson’s quick reaction.

“W-who is that?” Y/N muttered, her voice shaky and breaking. Ethan frowned, matching the confused look on Grayson’s face.

“How I envision Hecate.” Grayson answers, hearing Y/N gulp. It’s a half truth, one he can’t be honest about quite yet as that is not how he envisioned Hecate…because that is Hecate.

But to Y/N, that was the demon in her dreams and now reality. The one that haunts her, driving her to insanity.

“Our talk inspired me to paint her.” Grayson explains, gently lifting her off the ground and into his lap, his hand pushing her hair back from her face only to rest it on her left cheek.

Ethan nearly growled, the intimacy they show right before his eyes only awakening his demons. He was the one who found her, recognized her. He was the one who gave her space to be who she is while he crawls through her veins and to her heart in a slower pace because he cared enough not to overwhelm her. He was the one who saved her Kappa status while Apollo put it at risk by claiming her lips in front of everyone to see. And he was the one who committed a felony to get her under the same roof, hence giving them a chance to be closer than they’d ever get had he not done the hard thing. He always does the dirty work, but Apollo always reaps the rewards. How is that fair?

“Y/N.” Ethan bends down, putting all his weight on one knee, setting himself beside her.

“Why are you so scared?” His words are like water, encasing her with their calming, gentle touch which is absolutely anything but what she thought it would be. Ethan always seemed like a sea at storm, raging, ravishing in all he does. Passionate, ravaging, taking all until you’re sure you’ll be forever lost. She never saw him as the calm in her own storm, as the anchor he dropped with a few softly spoken words, but he took on the role so naturally she could only trust him and let the doubts go.

“I can’t explain it.” Her voice still shaky, her eyes darting from the painting to Ethan’s face like she wants to confide, but is terrified what they’ll think of her. But Ethan knew…he knew she must be as haunted as Yashi was with one significantly important difference; Yashi wasn’t scared of Athena. Then again Hecate wasn’t some wisdom filled goddess who sat in her temple and allowed supreme gods to rape her loyal worshipers only to have them turned to monsters like she did with Medusa. Hecate was darkness, the other side of the golden coin - the one no one messed with unless absolutely needed.

“Whatever you say right now won’t change the the fact I wholeheartedly care for you and want you to feel safe.” Ethan states without a batting an eye, honest to a fault and prepared to do anything for her.

“I will keep you safe.” Ethan adds for good measure, emphasizing the I so much so she blinked once, fast like she didn’t believe her ears.

How can she be so blind to my affections, Hermes wondered.

“I know.” Her lips curve into a small smile, one barely visible to those who don’t pay attention to every change in her attitude. He’d never miss it.

“I, uh. I dream of her. See her I think. That same exact woman from your painting.” She glances at Apollo at the last bit, biting on her lip before gnawing at the inside of her bottom one.

The words spread ice in their veins, both brothers frozen in their fear. It meant their chance at winning her over is dwindling to nothing if they don’t act fast, Apollo now grateful for Hermes’ extreme measures. If Hecate is already invading Y/N’s mind, it’s only a matter of time before she tells her the truth about them and that cannot happen. She needs to hear it from them. But she’s not ready yet, they both know that. She had yet to express any affection for them. That’s a must as they can use it to convince her to stay.

“That’s very unusual, but maybe you saw it before? You room has a great view of mine.” Grayson tries, seeing the disappointment and doubt in her eyes; disappointment about his disbelief and although she can’t hold it against him because it’s a probable alternative, but the fact he found an alternative instead of just believing her is unpleasant feeling on it’s own.

“I’m sure she’d know if she had seen it before.” Ethan snaps, voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, giving Y/N cause to smile, again with the smallest of smiles, almost minuscule but present nonetheless. He took it as a win anyway, happy to have something because so far he got nothing.

“We’ll figure it out. But you should take a shower and sleep a little, we’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll be in the bed right next to yours.” Ethan takes her hand, clasping it in his in order to help her up and away from his brother’s lap because he never, not even for a second forgot she was situated next to Apollo’s junk.

Grateful, she nods and takes his hand and the offer to help.

While the water ran, drowning out the world around her, the twins stood in their room with faces red and eyes dark.

“Hecate is going to influence her and if we don’t step up our game, she’s lost to us.” Hermes states, his hands steady on his hips, his shoulders slacking as is his back.

“Well, thanks to you, we have her with us for now. We can use that to our advantage.” Apollo runs his chin and the slight stubble growing with his impatience. He couldn’t handle this not working out. And yes, he started to care for the human, unexpectedly so, but his wish to go home fueled him to deceive her further and if that ended up with him kissing her again…who was he to fight such small pleasures?

“Is that an apology I smell, brother?” Hermes smirks, poking Apollo’s bicep.

Apollo groans, running a hand over his face, nodding.

“You did good.” Apollo mutters, hating himself for commending such behavior but as it turns out, the risk really was necessary. He couldn’t lie.

“Awee. Finally!” Hermes raises both his arms in the air, genuinely enjoying Apollo’s recognition and enlightenment.

“Also, I’m taking her on a date tomorrow.” Hermes tosses that one in, making Apollo’s eyes widen. His heart jumped and the cage around it grew smaller until it crushed the soft tissue. Apollo felt his skin growing warmer, his fists tighter and his want to punch his brother confused him. He had never felt like that before.

“When did you ask?” Apollo questions, his jaw clenched.

“Now.” Hermes smirks turning on his heel once the bathroom door opens and a dressed, fresh Y/N appears on the doorstep.

“Wanna go out for an adventure with me?” Hermes raises his brow, noticing Y/N freeze, tensing up but also relaxing moments after. She looks to Apollo, noticing him turning redder, but he didn’t object so why would she?

“Yes.”

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Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @fallinginlove-16 @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid @dinnerwiththedolans @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck @godlydolans @flowery-dolan

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins greek god au #GREEK GOD AU #apollo #hermes #dolan twins au #ethan dolan au #grayson dolan au #Greek Mythology

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thetimelesscycle · 5 years

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The Hobbit Fanfic: The Heart of Erebor - Chapter 65

Summary: ‘He could stand the wild light in his uncle’s gaze. He withstood the crazed glint that entered the ravenous stares of his companions. He endured seeing the dragon’s greed take them all. But when that madness seeped also into the eyes of his own beloved brother, he knew something had to be done. He just wasn’t expecting it to be this.’-The gold sickness of Erebor claims one more, and the path of destiny is irrevocably changed.

Inspired by the following quote from ‘The Hobbit’: “So grim had Thorin become, that even if they had wished, the others would not have dared to find fault with him; but indeed most of them seemed to share his mind-except perhaps old fat Bombur and Fili and Kili.”

*Cover Art Courtesy of Toastytoastie

/THE HEART OF EREBOR\

ACT VI -The King Beneath the Mountain-

Chapter 65

The Madness of Hope

It seemed strange to think that it had been less than a year ago that Kìli had stood upon the wall above Erebor’s shattered gate, believing all he had ever loved in the world was about to come to a violent and terrible end. He had been alone, abandoned and friendless, more afraid than he had ever been in his life, and certain that he was about to die. The despair he had felt in that moment remained engraved in his heart as one of the worst moments of his short life, and the days that had followed it had been no better, filled with grief and loss and pain.

And yet, it was just an echo now, an event that had been and gone. A past that felt far more distant than the short, intervening months should have allowed. He was doing his best to overlay such fading recollections with new memories, happier memories, not just for himself, but for those around him as well.

Some days it was easier than others. When wounds still raw were not yet open and weeping, and he could be enough to wrench a smile from beneath Fìli’s preoccupied frown, or to scatter the dark clouds that formed over his uncle’s head, to chase away the haunting memories that gripped his mother. Other days the events of the past were a weight they all felt, a veritable hammer above all their heads, just waiting for the opportune moment to pound them into the anvil of cruel fate.

The battles they had survived had left their scars, and he knew they would take time to fade; to heal.

Thorin’s coronation would go a long way towards accomplishing that, or so he hoped. Their victory certainly felt more certain now that the crown was resting upon his uncle’s brow. Now that oaths had been sworn and old alliances reformed. He was proud to have played a part in that, no matter how small that part might have been in the grand scheme of things. Proud of what they had accomplished, rising from the ashes of wrath and ruin to restore the Line of Durin to its rightful place amidst the Seven. Had this been one of Balin’s epics, the adventure would have ended the moment Thorin took his rightful place upon the throne. Sadly, if this quest had taught him anything at all, it was that the stories of old only ever told half the tale.

His own experiences had given him a new appreciation for the moments that the historians forgot. Those events deemed unimportant by the scholars who chose to study such things, dismissed in favour of great battles and the speeches that followed them. There would no doubt be countless retellings of the celebration that had marked the return of Erebor’s king, each more ridiculous than the last, especially with the inclusion of their elven guests. But he doubted anyone would remember him slipping away from the gathering, confident his absence would not be noticed with the festivities in full swing, to seek a moment’s solitude and reflection in what was swiftly becoming one of his favourite haunts.

The view from the wall above Erebor’s gate was a world away from what it had been months before. Gone was the pool of dammed water, meant to hold the war camp that had lain further down the valley at bay. Gone were the dotted gatherings of campfires, the sound of voices and metal carried on the wind. Gone was the terrible aftermath, the rows upon rows of dead and the stench of the wounded and the dying. Peace had slowly crept in to take the place of it all, nature gently wiping away the blood spilt upon its back, until nothing remained to speak of the tragedies that had unfolded in this place.

Where once the sight had brought him nothing but dread, Kíli could now take comfort in the vista laid out on the mountain’s doorstep. It was a sign of healing. A sign that, no matter the suffering that had passed here, time marched ever onwards, knitting over old wounds, bringing new hope to lift the afflicted from the mire of tragedy’s aftermath. He needed that faith right now as much as he had needed it then, a light to cling to, a vision of the future he could lay before others when darkness ensnared their thoughts and despair sunk its claws in deep.

Perched upon the parapet’s edge, his heels drumming an irregular beat against the stone seams, he let himself revel in the tranquility. It had been a long time since he had had a chance to simply sit and think, the world flowing peaceably by, and he intended to make the most of the moment while it lasted. Below him the celebration would continue, not stopping until well after the sun began to peek over the horizon. He did not begrudge them that, they had earned the right to their revelry, but he did not feel the need to join them. His victory was a quieter triumph, one he hoped he would be able to enjoy for years to come.

“There you are,” Fìli’s voice interrupted his musings, his brother’s uneven stride accompanied by the ‘thwap’ of his cane on the stone floor, and Kìli frowned briefly, wondering when Fìli had found time to retrieve it, and why he hadn’t asked someone to assist him up the stairs. His brother was not likely to appreciate either enquiry, however, so he held his tongue, keeping his gaze turned outwards as Fìli crossed the space between them. “You’re missing Bofur’s rousing rendition of The Cat Jumped Over the Moon.”

Kìli snorted, easily able to picture what such a thing would entail. He had, after all, seen it before. “A request from Elrohir?”

“Well, he did miss the original performance whilst we were in Rivendell.” Coming to stand beside him, Fìli leant his forearms on the wall, taking some of the weight off his bad leg. He waited a beat, letting the gentle breeze fill the space between them, then he asked, “What’s bothering you, Ki?”

“Nothing.” At his brother’s sharp look, he elaborated. “I really mean that, Fìli. Nothing is wrong right now. We’ve won. Erebor is at peace, Thorin has been crowned, and I… I think maybe I just wanted a moment to let that sink in. We’ve been so busy trying to make sure that everything else goes smoothly that there just hasn’t been time to… to… to just be.”

“I know what you mean.” Fìli nodded, his words a murmur. “It’s been months, and yet sometimes this still doesn’t feel real. Like a dream that could end at any minute.”

“I’m sure it will seem real enough once we actually have to take part in ruling Erebor,” Kìli interjected lightly, unwilling to surrender his hardwon sense of peace. “All those letters to write and documents to sign. My hand is aching just thinking about it.” That earned him an amused look, which he returned, before continuing in a more thoughtful vein, “In many ways, tonight is an ending, and not just for Bilbo’s book.”

Fìli cast him a curious look, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

“We set out from Ered Luin to reclaim our home,” Kìli reminded him, rubbing his hands together in his lap. “To take back a mountain from a dragon. It sounded simple enough to us at the time, I’m sure, and it could be argued that that journey ended when Smaug was slain. But I don’t think Erebor was ours again, not truly, until today.”

“You think you’ll be happy, then?” Fìli enquired, his tone mild, but his words earnest. “Calling Erebor home now?”

“My family is home.” Kìli shot him a wry grin. “It really doesn’t matter where we live.”

“Even if it means being a proper prince?” His brother challenged, and Kìli laughed.

“Even then. I think I’m starting to understand that there are worse fates.”

Fìli was silent for a long moment, staring out into the night, and his words, when they came, were almost a confession. “I don’t know if I can look at it the way you do. Sometimes… Sometimes this all feels like a prison, and I don’t know if that will ever change. Everyone says it will just take time, but…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Kìli ventured, unsure if Fìli wanted him to speak, or was simply airing his fears aloud. “And you don’t have to stay, Fì. If going back to Ered Luin would help, or paying a visit to Rivendell, then that is what you should do. Erebor doesn’t have to come first.”

“And that is why you are not going to be king,” Fìli teased him, if weakly. “Your priorities are all askew.”

“I am going to be your advisor,” Kìli reached across to swat his sibling lightly on the head. “And that gives me leave, oh future king, to rearrange your priorities however I please.”

Fìli raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous. “I do not see that working for Balin.”

“Yes, well, we both know Uncle Thorin is far too stubborn for such a strategy to be effective.”

“Oh.” Now he was affecting offence. “And I am more easily persuaded?”

“Of course. I will simply fill your room with boxes of apples fresh from Dale’s orchards and you will be halfway to Rivendell before you can say ‘burglar’.”

“Apples?” Fìli groaned. “Kìli, how could you betray me like this? Throwing your lot in with my one, true nemesis.”

“And here I was thinking that was stairs.”

“Hey.” Fìli’s indignant shove nearly sent his brother tumbling right off the wall. Laughing, Kìli overcompensated, falling backwards instead to land at his elder’s feet. Fìli glared down at him, imperious, and that only made him laugh harder until Fìli let out an annoyed huff and lowered himself down to sit beside his sibling. “You are an ass.”

Still chuckling, Kìli reached out to pat Fìli’s knee in only half mocking apology, before settling back with both his arms behind his head. His shoulder twinged slightly at the motion, but it was a passing pain, easily ignored as he let his eyes settle on the starlit sky above. Fìli was only a moment in joining him, the sigh that escaped his lips one of contentment more than sorrow, and Kìli was willing to let the silence stretch, a blanket of comfortable familiarity between them both.

He had meant what he said. Tonight was an ending. The end of the quest to reclaim Erebor, the end of so many fears; so many battles and old, untended wounds. The end of one chapter, and yet the beginning of another. The next day would dawn with Thorin as Erebor’s King, with Fìli and Kìli as princes and councillors officially sworn into their new roles. There would be decisions to make, meetings to attend, alliances to cement, duties to uphold. It should have terrified him, the weight of responsibility upon his - upon their - shoulders, but he was not afraid.

The Line of Durin had survived dragon fire, had survived madness and death and treachery. Though the challenges that lay before them were great, Kìli was surprised to realise that they no longer daunted him as they once had. Something had shifted, in the moment Thorin had been crowned, or before that even, when he had placed the Arkenstone in the hands of his fallen uncle and felt the rightness of that choice. He had no doubt that there would be further mistakes going forward, choices that would gnaw away at him, reminding him of the lives he was responsible for, the duties a Son of Durin could not escape.

But he was not alone.

That which he had sacrificed to try and save had been restored to him, a reward for his faith, a lesson learned and remembered. He had been prepared to give the Arkenstone away like a worthless trinket because he was afraid of losing that which he held most dear, and in so doing he had uncovered the true Heart of the Mountain. It was not the jewel that had so bewitched Thror and Thorin after him, or the gold that ran in rivers within the treasuries of the king. No, the beating heart of the Lonely Mountain was to be found in the merrymaking taking place in the Great Hall, in the laughter ringing out from every corner, in the quiet that had settled over he and his brother, restful and content. These moments, and the bonds that forged them, were what gave Erebor life; riches that could never be measured or bought.

It had taken him a long time to realise that simple truth, to understand that that was what he was sworn to protect, as a Son of Durin, a Prince of Erebor. He would never be a ruler with the power and authority that Thorin wielded, nor did he have Fìli’s sense of duty and calm steadiness, but he was beginning to realise that lack was not the failing he had always assumed it to be. The Seven may well have been right in their assertions that he would have made a poor king, caring too much for one thing and too little for the other, but he didn’t need to be what they thought he should be.

He had been spared the gold sickness because he had no use for wealth. He had given the Arkenstone away because Thorin and Fìli and the Company were simply more important in his eyes. He had turned his back on his birthright to gamble instead on the slim chance his kinsmen were alive. He had sought aid from those considered to be the enemy without a second’s thought. He had made so many choices that had caused others to shake their heads in scorn or despair or both. And yet… he could not regret the future those choices had brought him. A future that might never have been had he listened to the words of others. Had he chosen to believe as they did, and abandon a course of action they had deemed madness.

And it had been. He recognised that now. Not gold sickness or the dragon’s curse or grief or rage, but his own kind of insanity. To trust in good fortune in lands that had long been abandoned by the same. To believe when all others beliefs had died. To dare to stand against the tide and rage at the abyss… what else was that but madness? A year ago, he had sat atop this same wall and wished that he could share in the sickness that had taken his friends from him, his family. He had known it was wrong, but he had wished it all the same, never once realising that the curse of Erebor's treasure had found no foothold in his mind because another madness had already preceded it. So he could ask himself the same question again now; Was it wrong to wish for madness? And the answer, too, would be unchanged.

Yes.

Yes, it was.

For madness had already taken him.

The madness of hope.

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a-random-viking-blog · 5 years

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Loki’s Therapy

this is a short piece I did as part of the writing exercises from Neil Gaiman's art of storytelling masterclass, so without further ado, I give you Loki’s therapy

Intorductions and Baldur's death

“This is going to be an unusual client.” Dr Fliberwitz thought to himself, he had been going down steps deeper into the earth for almost twenty minutes. He had first suspected something was off when he had been told to meet the client at a cave, but the money was good so Fliberwitz had agreed without question, in hindsight that had been a bad idea.

Upon thinking this, he noticed an ear piercing screaming coming from a little further down, Fliberwitz increased his pace down the stairs, in a rush, he slipped on the damp rocky steps and fell down the last few stairs.

Upon recovering from the fall, he looked around, it was not a huge room, but it was still a sizeable cavern. He could just about see the opposite walls in the dim torchlight, with a pale silhouette moving against it, but this was something to think about later. His eyes were drawn to the source of the scream, a man, chained to a rock in the centre of the room. A snake's head barely visible in the darkness above him, Fliberwitz stood watching in shock as a drop of venom slid slowly down the snake’s fang, and fell almost, to Fliberwitz at least, in slow motion, followed immediately by a blood-curdling scream.

Dr Fliberwitz hurried over “Don’t worry I’ll get you out” he said, panic clear in his voice.

“Its pointless” came a breathless reply in between the agonised screams. Fliberwitz couldn't stand to see someone in such a torturous position and tried his best to undo the chains, as he fumbled he stopped as the silhouetted figure drew closer. Upon closer inspection, he could make out a feminine figure carrying a bowl, which moved swiftly towards the man chained to the rock.

As the bowl was held over his head protecting him from the dripping venom, the screaming quickly subsided and once the man was calm, he turned to Dr Fliberwitz coughed and said “sorry for your rather lacklustre welcome, but as you can see I’m hardly in a position to welcome guests. So you must be that therapist Odin demanded I speak to, not like I have much choice in the matter, and after a few millennia in this cave, it is a welcome distraction”

“Wait, Odin?” Fliberwitz inquired.

“Yes our magnanimous king and the one whos whole idea this fun little prank is…” the chained man replied

“So does this mean that your Loki?” asked Fliberwitz

“Wow, I can see why Odin sent you, a real genius… yes i am he, Loki god of fire and mischief, in all my glory, and this is my wife, Sigyn” as Loki said this Sigyn, took a hand off the bowl to wave, spilling a small drop of venom onto Loki’s face eliciting a short scream. “ I guess you're here to ask me about my feelings and my childhood so I can have a breakthrough and a cry and then you get to go away feeling smug that you helped a god, what a wonderful human you are…”

“We can talk about your feelings and your childhood if you want, but I figured you’d rather talk about stories, and if you'd like to share it, I'd like to hear yours. Afterall I’m sure there's more to it than us mere mortals have heard”

“Carry on playing to my ego and I might even begin to like you.” Loki said a hint of surprise detectable in the layers of sarcasm and spite. “Fine I’ll tell you, but only because I’m bored. Afterall being chained a rock for centuries is far from the most exciting pastime.”

“So it all began a long time ago, in a happier time for everyone, and as many of the best stories, it began with a simple prank. Baldur was having some crazy nightmares, he was getting so upset that he was losing his mind, it was hilarious. But true to form Odin and Frigga couldn't see the hilarity of it. As this went on over the weeks and months, Baldur got more and more disturbed, it was the most interesting golden boy had ever been. But Frigga disagreed, she decided she had to do something, and off she went. A few weeks later she returned, making this crazy claim that everything had promised not to harm Baldur. Now I know a lie when I hear one, I've told so many myself that I can the moment I hear one, unless it’s told with as much charm as i do. So I felt the need to find out just what she was lying about, whilst the rest of the gods got to work having fun throwing things at Baldur and watching them stop before hitting him or just bouncing off. The things that amuse those mindless brutes.”

Fliberwitz let out a small chuckle, Loki smiled wryly and continued “Frigga has always been a doting mother, so the best way to wrangle the truth out of her was to pretend to be a doting mother too, so I took the form of a lovely little old lady, and decided to have a chat with her.

I asked her “Did all things swear oaths to spare Baldur from harm?” “Oh, yes,” the goddess replied, “everything except the mistletoe. But the mistletoe is so small and innocent a thing that I felt it superfluous to ask it for an oath. What harm could it do to my son?” and in that moment I knew exactly what I should do.

I quickly hurried to Midgard, it didn’t take me long to locate a small bush of mistletoe, and it was a small plant, but not so small that I couldn’t make a few little darts from it, but I knew it couldn’t be the one to throw them, so I had to find a patsy.

Upon my return to Asgard, the blundering oafs where still amusing themselves with their simplistic games of throwing things at Baldur, almost all the gods were joining in, almost all, that was when i found the perfect patsy” a twisted smile formed on Loki's face. “Sat in the corner alone was Hodr, Baldur's brother, left out of the festivities as Baldur was the only one who ever bothered trying to bring him into things, and with Baldur occupied no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. With such a perfect fall guy how could I not go through with my plan?

I approached Hodr, and at first he was suspicious, I guess I’ve always had a bit of a reputation, if anything it only puts the blame further on him for trusting me, the fool, but quickly I made him believe that I wanted only to help him enjoy the festivities with the other brutes, then he argued that he was blind how could he possibly join in the fun. So I presented him with my freshly made darts, and told him that i would guide his hand, he would be part of the fun, joining in with the celebration of his brothers new found immortality. It was near impossible for me to hide my grin, luckily with him being blind and the other gods distracted, it didn’t really matter. I lead him over, placed a dart in his hand, guided him to aim for the heart, and then the moment he threw it, I made myself scarce, after all I didn’t want to make it too obvious what I’d done, also tricking Hodr into killing his brother and Odin's most beloved son, I almost wet myself laughing!” Loki chuckled Fliberwitz forced a smile “so there’s clearly more to this story did you not feel any guilt about this?”

“Not in the slightest” Loki replied “after all this had been my greatest prank to date, but it turned out there were still plenty of chances to milk more fun out of this”

“So what happened?” inquired Fliberwitz

“Well obviously Odin and frig were distraught and they desperately tried to bring Baldur back, and soIi had to fuck with them. They dispatched a rider to bargain with my daughter Hel. Now Hel is fair, but she is not exactly fond of Odin, so she offered a deal, if everything in the 9 realms showed their grief for the loss of Baldur, in the form of a tear, she would release him from the underworld. Now this would be too obvious if I didn’t cry, but trickery is my speciality so I formed a plan, i let their riders go forth and once they were almost done i took the form of an old giantess crone and waited for them in a cave. Upon the entrance of the riders, they begged for me to shed a tear for Baldur, and naturally i simply refused, they begged and begged, but i did not budge, and they left defeated to return to Asgard with news of their failings. Once they were out of earshot, i laughed so hard! It was the perfect revenge for what they did to my kids.

“What happened to your children?” Fliberwitz prompted

“Well that i think is a story for our next session don’t you think? Afterall it looks like the bowl is getting full, but i’ll give you a hint” Loki says as he rattles his chains

“In that case, i shall i be back next week at the same time” Fliberwitz said as he gathered his notes, put them in his bag and prepared for the long journey back up the stairs out of the earth

As Fliberwitz reached the exit of the cave, the reality of what had just happened began to hit, not only where gods real, but he had just been speaking with one, these myths were real, what else was real? He had many questions, just what was real, was the world as he knew it meaningless? Was everything humanity has focused on and held dear nout but a meaningless distraction? But Fliberwitz was exhausted, and with no answers to be found he headed home to a much-needed rest, and to process what he had just learned.

Loki’s kids

The next week seemed to take forever to roll around, Fliberwitz struggled to focus in sessions with his human patients, his mind kept wandering back to that cave, and the god trapped there, in comparison to him, nothing felt real, almost as if Loki and his cave where more real than reality. Saturday finally arrived and as Fliberwitz descended the long stone staircase into the bowls of the earth, the excitement began to stir in his chest, as Loki's screams began to reach his ears, his heart began to beat faster excitement building, and trust in his own sanity returned. With each passing day the previous Saturday had felt less real, like a dream fading from memory, but upon hearing the screams it all came flooding back, and he excitedly hurried down the steps almost slipping a couple of times in his haste, but catching himself before he fell.

As he reached the chamber where Loki lay, Sigyn was just returning with the bowl, she smiled at Fliberwitz as he entered. “Ahh doctor, a welcome breath of fresh air, in this dark dank cave”

“Good day Loki” Fliberwitz replied, “I'm looking forward to hearing more of your story, you were about to tell me about what happened with your children, you mentioned your daughter Hel last time, she rules the underworld, is this correct?”

“Yes she does, although while she was treated with some respect it is her brothers that i sought vengeance for”

“Her brothers? What happened to them?”

“Well i promised you the story last time, their mother was a beautiful giantess named Angrboða, and before you ask our dating customs aren't quite as prudish as you humans weird jealous loving thing,” he says as Sigyn nods her head

We had been seeing each other for a while, before she gave birth to triplets three beautiful children, that the aesir believed to be monsters, Hel, whom i have already mentioned, she was born half dead, straight down the middle, one side beautiful and alive, the other skeletal. Her brothers where Jormungandr and Fenrir. Fenrir is a wolf and Jormungandr a serpent, both were large for their age, and only got bigger. But such large powerful creatures scared those cowardly fools, so Jormungandr they tossed into the sea, and he now encircles all of Midgard. Fenrir at Tyr’s insistence was permitted to stay in Asgard for a while, but as the gods watched him grow they became ever more afraid. So they decided to chain him up, but he was strong, stronger than any chain, so when he broke their strongest chain like it was paper, it sealed his fate. They were terrified.

In their fear, they went to the dwarves loathsome little creatures, but useful, they are the greatest craftsman in the nine realms. Chains would not be enough to seal my son, so they created a magic ribbon, a damned ribbon of all things! They took all sorts of things, like the sound of a cat’s footsteps, woman’s beard’s and the roots of a mountain to make the *ugh* ribbon, this is why you no longer see these things in the mortal world.

So naturally my son was wary of the gods when they approached him with a ribbon, but after some goading, he agreed to let them tie him, but as he didn’t trust them, he demanded that a god put their hand in his mouth as insurance to make sure they untied him. Tyr the god who vouched for Fenrir to stay in Asgard, and who played with him, fed him and generally treated him well, offered his hand as collateral. This set Fenrir at ease, after all he didn’t want to believe that Tyr would try and trick him, but sadly Fenrir was young and naive, none of the gods can be trusted, especially Odin. So they bound Fenrir, and even his incredible strength was not enough to break the magical binding. Upon admitting defeat and asking to be released the gods began to laugh and torment my poor son, unable to defend himself or leave he bit down removing Tyr's hand, hurt beyond measure by Tyrs betrayal.

After the gods had had their fun mocking Fenrir they sealed him away under the earth, as i’m sure you can tell they seem to have a bit of a fetish for it” Loki says as he gestures as best he can to the cave around him.

Fliberwitz was left flabbergasted, the gods have generally been portrayed as wise and kind, but in reality, it was starting to sound that they were no better than humans, potentially worse. Fliberwitz’s heart sank, the hope he had found and built up over the week had just been smashed, the gods where not beings to be worshipped and loved, but now the picture was forming of tyrannical beings to be obeyed without question or face a fate worse than death, and even if you obeyed, they may well do it anyway if they perceived you as a threat. This shook Fliberwitz to the core, could everything we know be wrong? There were so many questions Fliberwitz wanted to ask, but to indulge his curiosity would bring the focus back to Loki's bitterness and hatred, a state of mind he needed to move Loki away from, so his curiosity he had to set aside, but he was a professional, the clients mental health comes first. The cave had gone silent, except from the slow dripping of the venom, their timer for their session, dripping away. Fliberwitz felt the need to say something, to break the silence “did you get to spend much time with your children before they were taken?”

“No, i had to leave to go run some trivial errands for Odin shortly after they were born, in hindsight, it was probably just to get me out of the way so they could take them” Loki sighed

“That’s tragic, the gods sound like greater monsters than your children could ever be!” exclaimed Fliberwitz The silence returned, “they are the greatest monsters in the nine realms” claimed Loki, punctuated by a loud scream as the bowl began to overflow once more, marking the end of the session. “That is not even the worst that they have done to my children, but that is a story for another time, goodbye Mr Fliberwitz”

Fliberwitz began the long slow ascent, his head spinning, once again his conversation with the god of mischief had left him with more questions than answers, and his entire world view shattered, now he felt a great pain to the core of his very being as the world he believed he knew crumbled around him.

The next week was even slower, it felt like the gods where slowing time to torment him like they torment Loki, how could the gods use such trickery, what of the honour that was always associated with them? Where they really as bad as Loki made out? But he couldn't openly interrogate his client, that was incredibly unprofessional, so his personal opinion would have to wait, he had to set himself aside, and keep his role as a professional therapist. If he didnt, then he would likely lose his mind, although that was looking likely either way.

The party

Fliberwitz once more found himself going through the small cavern opening down the stairs, lost fantasising about what he was about to discover what he would learn about the imprisoned god this week, as he approached the bottom of the passage, he noticed a distinct lack of screaming, which was his normal welcome. Upon stepping into the main chamber he was greeted by “your late Mr Fliberwitz” Fliberwitz looked at his watch, he was half an hour late, a large portion of their session was already gone.

“I’m sorry Loki, traffic was awful this evening” he lied, “shall we get on with it? I believe you were about to tell me about what happened to your other children.”

“To tell that story requires another one first, and thankfully that story is quite short, largely as I was quite drunk, so my memory is foggy. The gods were having a feast, and they had the gall not to invite me, so after a few drinks by myself I thought the best idea was to go and confront Odin, we were sworn brothers, he made an oath not to attend a feast unless I too was invited. This feast was a big one, Thor had gone to a lot of effort to secure a large kettle for aegir to brew mead fit for the gods in, and once the mead was ready the feast was prepared, it was grand in scale, one of the greatest feasts I've ever seen, and that made me feel all the more insulted that they hadn’t invited me, after all, what kind of grand feast would it be without my ingenious brand of comedy?

So I entered the hall, and confronted the gods. I will admit in my drunken haze this may not of been my wisest decision, but i couldn’t let this insult go ignored, there was no seat saved for me, nor a horn nor plate for me, odin had broken his oath, and showed no remorse in doing so. In my stupor i began to lash out in the way i best know how, i insulted each and everyone of them, bringing many of them to tears, although after Baldur's recent death the gods were weak of will and filled with sorrow, making them easier targets than they had ever been, and in my drunken state i ripped in to each of them as deeply as i could, every ounce of betrayal and spite that i felt channelled, every wrong that was done to me manifested in insults, it wasn’t long until Frigga said, “Oh, if my son Baldur were only here, he would silence thy wicked tongue!” and at this point a grin grew on my face, i turned and admitted what i had done to Hodr and Baldur, the moment the words had left my lips i realised my mistake, and i fled as fast as I could, barely missing lightning from the raging thor, whos thunder shook the halls.” “Wow, i can understand your sense of betrayal, it must have been painful, but you did kill baldur, and you know yourself the pain of something terrible happening to your children, what did you think would happen once they found out?” Fliberwitz asked nervously, after all he was now questioning a god, this was not what he was used to.

“I guess i wasn't thinking, i just wanted to hurt them, however i think Odin already suspected the truth, knowing him it was probably an elaborate set up to trick me into doing what i did, or at least into acting in a manner that they could reasonably disown me for, after all thor was particularly fast to act, and that oaf is not normally the quickest. But i guess i really messed up there” Loki sighed, Fliberwitz breathed a sigh of relief, he had just questioned a god like he would a normal patient, and it had been okay. But before he could begin to ask any follow-up questions the venom began to trickle down the bowl, and with the agonised scream, their session came to an end for this week and Fliberwitz began the long ascent once more. This time he berated himself on the way up for allowing himself to lose track of time and miss such a large portion of his appointment, if he had been on time he would of been able to get deeper to the route of Loki’s issues, but he could feel proud he had made progress.

The punishment

It had been almost a month since Fliberwitz had first met the chained god, he was finding himself now far more confident in dealing with his patients, he had grown a lot through talking with a god, and he hoped the god had too.

Saturday once more came around and he returned to the cave, this time ensuring to arrive on time, and make his way swiftly down the long damp stone steps, deep into the bowels of the earth. He entered the chamber just as the usual screams came to an end. “Good afternoon doctor, it’s good to see your on time for a change”

“You know your snide remarks are a large part of what brought you here don’t you Loki?”

“What do you know? Only what little i’ve told you, you don’t know the pain i suffer every day, nor do you know what i’ve been through, the confusion, the way i’ve been treated, the uncertainty, the mistrust. You know nothing” Loki snapped struggling against his chains

“Your right Loki, i don’t know how can i, i only know what you tell me, that's why im here, to help you talk through things. To share your pain, and to help make sense of what confuses you,so help me understand.” There was only silence, Loki looked away from his therapist to hide his shame. “Or if you feel more comfortable you can continue your story?”Fliberwitz enquired “ i believe you were going to tell me what happened after the feast, and what happened to your other children. Where those other children with sigyn here?”

Loki sighed “yes they were, i loved those kids, but their part in my tragic tale isn’t quite yet. I didn't think that they would do anything to them, how wrong i was.

So after i escaped from the feast, i found myself a nice mountain to hide on, i lived in a hut with four doors so i could always see in every direction, and escape no matter what direction they came from. From there i would spend most days as a fish in a river, so that they couldn’t tell me from the other fish, and spent a few days working out how they could possibly catch me, i even wove the first net, to try to think up a way to escape it should the gods manage to create one. This it turns out was my undoing, just as i finished the net, thor, mimir and couple of other gods came, so i tossed the net on the fire and fled to the stream and disguised myself as a salmon. Unfortunately, the net hadn’t fully burnt by the time they arrived, and Mimir was able to reconstruct it, and used it against me, i tried to escape, but they were relentless and before long i was caught. They brought me to this cave”

“Wait so what happened to your sons?” if you're at the cave in your story but your children still haven’t been mentioned?” asked Fliberwitz

“I will get to them soon” assured Loki “ as they were waiting in this very room with Sigyn as the gods dragged me down, upon seeing my family dread filled my entire being, it was one thing to condemn me for my actions, but to condemn my family like they did, they truly are the monsters.” a tear rolled down Loki’s cheek, he turned away to try to hide it. “First thor grabbed me and held me in place forcing me to watch what happened next. They used ancient magics to turn my beloved Narfi into a wolf and forced Sigyn and I to watch as he tore his brother Nari apart.” “That’s evil!” exclaimed Fliberwitz “how could they do such a thing?”

“It gets worse, they used Nari’s entrails to bind me to these rocks, and Skadi placed that serpent to drip its venom into my face for as long as i’m bound here. Then they used more magic to keep the snake in place and to turn the entrails to chain, and here i have been for millennia, trapped bound with the guts of my own son, with serpent venom dripping on my face, while my beloved wife is forced to stand silently and collect the venom in a bowl, that is the kindness of the gods, to condemn her to this life, so i have a short while where i am not in excruciating pain”

“Wow i honestly don't know what to say! The way they treated you was truly brutal. Thank you for sharing your story, confronting such painful memories can’t of been easy” Fliberwitz said as the venom reached the brim of the bowl, and began to trickle down once more.

“It looks like our session is about over, thank you Doctor Fliberwitz, i will see you soon”

“Goodbye Loki, thank you once again for your story” Fliberwitz began to leave as he left he thought he heard Loki say something, but as he turned to look back, the screaming began.

He began to make the long journey back up out of the earth his head was spinning, where the gods really such cruel villainous entities? Was Loki just a poor being lashing out after being treated unjustly for longer than humanity has existed? He felt sick at the idea, the further he got up the stairs the more he thought about it and the worse he felt, his palms started becoming sweaty, his heart was racing, his head was pounding. As he approached the exit, a wave of nausea hit. He felt his lunch come up, the world was spinning he tried to use the wall to help him make it the last few steps, which were already dangerously slippery without the vomit. As his foot hit the step, another wave of nausea hit, stronger than he had ever felt. With a short scream, he slipped and fell, the scream was short-lived, as his head cracked on a step, but momentum kept his body going, all the way to the bottom, to the chamber where Loki lay bound.

Loki smiled, his plan for vengeance against the gods could begin, his body may be chained but his mind was not, and now he had the perfect puppet.

#creative writing #loki #norse myths #myths and legends #neil gaiman #fiction #new writers on tumblr #therapy

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lordnelson100 · 6 years

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Abundance (Nerdanel) - Fëanorian Week 2018

For @feanorianweek Yes, I am early for Nerdanel day.

Read or comment on Ao3 here.

Summary: Of artistry, women's bodies, and loss.

I. Journeyman

On a summer day, she began the work that would become the most famous of all the creations of her hands— except for one.

It began as if from nowhere (or so it seemed to her at the time).

True, by then she had spent many years as her father’s apprentice, praised for her skill and her industry, her patience and her delicate touch in shaping surfaces.

Also true, that when she had turned from forge work to creating likenesses— when she had found her own proper gift in sculpting the faces and forms of her people, and of the living animals and growing things— then she had begun to win great praise. Then the Noldor rejoiced in her work, and passed her figurines from hand to hand, and set them upon pedestals and hearth-mantels.

They began to say that Mahtan’s daughter had his spirit in her fingertips. A few, even, whispered that now they understood how she had caught the eye of the prince, her father’s master student (thought they managed to sound as if it were Fëanor’s achievement, discovering her hidden worth, more than it were her own merit for having it).

But this new work: this was different.

She had returned upon the eve of summer from a long ride at Fëanor’s side in the distant wild edges of Aman. There lay in her studio an enormous length of wood, hard, dense and richly colored, with a scent redolent of warm far-off forests far to the south. It was the huge bole of a mighty tree, split and stripped and dried, and brought here as a gift by a travelling friend of her father’s.

Till now she had had no idea what to do with it.

But on this day, with the golden treelight just rising, and the air promising summer heat to come yet still slightly chill, so that she had wrapped an old shawl about her shoulders when she came out to her workshop—

On this day, she took up her tools and began to carve, and worked as she had never worked before. With axe and adze, she roughed out the form that took shape in her thoughts. Before the light changed, a great figure had begun to spring forth from the wood, as if it— as if she — had always been there.

Yavanna strode forth, in the woman’s body in which she cloaked herself in Eä. In Nerdanel’s shaping, the noble body, twice as tall as an Elf, walked amidst her meadows, a long robe in graceful carven folds swirling after her, which yet did not obscure the curve of a mighty hip, the generosity and delicacy of her broad bare bosom, the merry roundness of the belly, the vulnerable, powerful cleft between her legs. Her curling hair flowed in a river over her shoulders, with flowers all among her endless, wild locks.

Nerdanel’s own cloak had long been dropped into the sawdust and shavings on the floor; her red hair was damp and tangled with sweat; her arms ached. She was half aware of sending several people away with abrupt words, when they intruded into the corner of her vision. Water was left at her elbow, and she drank it; bread, and she put it into her mouth. But she did not cease.

When nightfall came for second time, her mother came and urged her to take rest; and sometime later, Mahtan followed. He watched his daughter at her work in silence for some time, without comment; and then at last said, “Not as your father, and no more as your master, do I speak: but as your fellow artist. Only you may say how the hours of your inspiration run: when to take up and when to cease. But you are making my wife, your lady mother, worried.”

Abashed, Nerdanel laid down her tools at last, and went into the house, and embraced her mother, and her father too, and allowed them to bring her food and send her to the bath and bed. But the next day she rose early and fell at once to work, and the next, and the next.

After some weeks, the as yet-nameless work had grown in size till it stretched for many yards down the enormous slab of hardwood. She had begun in the very middle, with the centering figure of Yavanna. Now on either side, as if emerging from the wood in the Vala’s wake, were laughing maidens and youths with their arms full of fruit, were tree boughs swaying laden with blossom, and meadows full of ragged wildflowers. With chisel and mallet she refined each figure in minute detail; hollowing the space between until the figures seemed all but ready to leap from the background. Deer paused among the shadows of the woodland, shy and fleet. Small plump birds cocked their tiny heads and gave a sideways look. Rabbits ran among tall grass, throwing up their hind legs in saucy pride at their speed.

At some point, Nerdanel realized that Fëanor was standing in the studio; his arms folded and his gaze intent. She had not seen him in — some time, and yet: he was in everything, in all of this. He gave her a very small smile and cocked an eyebrow at her. She did not say, “I am working; I must do this; this is the best thing I have ever made, and it is the most important thing right now.” For she saw that he saw; it was one of the reasons she loved him.

She went back to work, and he went away. But he came again and he brought with him apprentices carrying many trays and vessels. “I had an idea,” he said gruffly. “It is an experiment. You need only use them if you like!”

The workmen set their trays on the side table, and wiping the sweat from her brow, she came to gaze at the array of bowls and jars before her. Colors in dense, rich liquids, opaque as milk, were found in some jars. Red ochre she recognized, and yellow orpiment — but here were shades of pigment she had never seen in any artists’ work, even among the most cunning Noldor artisans. In one jar, gold was made liquid. Scarlet bright as winter berries pooled in another, while a blue as of a living iris-flower filled its neighbor. Yet again, a translucent glaze like the delicate skin of wrist wherein the blood gives faint color to the surface. Beside this, in other samples, rich powders of crushed crystalline minerals glistened; when mixed with oil, they smeared into a hundred subtle gradients.

Delight swelled within her.

Fëanor was talking now, half nervously: “The greens and blue were difficult: that one is copper acetate, and that one, azurite — you must wear gloves, and mind you do not bite your brushes —”

She threw her arms around him, tucking her head into his muscular neck, and he fell quiet. She took in his scent: chemical buzz of the laboratory and warm work damp of his skin and ash of the fire and the good plain linen of his work-robe. She held him tightly, saying little, but she felt his heart beating within his broad chest. Soon she returned to her work, but Fëanor went smiling when he left.

The great sculpture went on towards its final form. Now Yavanna’s cloak in its swirling folds was edged with gold, and the silver stars sprinkled on it were picked out against a background of deepest blue. Now each fruit was touched with glistening red, or bright yellow tinged with green, or wine-dark purple, and tree-blossoms were dressed in frothy white just tinged with pink.

She had a brush in her hand — sable fur, just freshly dipped in gold flake— touching the tracery of jewels around the neck of a dancing handmaiden — on the day that Mahtan came to her and said, “Aulë has come to our house, daughter.”

Of course she gave it to them, to Aulë and Yavanna, without their need to ask. In all the time of working on it, she had never stopped to think what or who it was for, only that it come to be. And the Giver of Fruits and the Smith set it up in a great plinth amid her own meadows, the ever-verdant gardens of the Kementari, where it could be visited by all who came that way. Often in the days of festivals, the Elves would come and raise their voices in song at this place, and children would run and play near it and shyly touch the wooden figures in their lifelike joy.

In later years, Nerdanel was to make statues of all — of most — of the Valar, as well as of the famous and the great among all the Eldar kind. She worked in those later eras in many noble materials — marble and bronze, truesilver and alabaster, ivory and basalt — for wood came to seem a material rather humble for the splendors of Aman at its noontide.

And yet the image of Kementari, Queen of Earth’s flowering, made in the very freshness of Nerdanel’s heart in its first youth, remained her most famous and beloved work for many a long age.

II. Innovation

Down at her waist, right over each hip, nodes of a curious warm tenderness bloomed, almost but not quite painful. Her breasts grew sensitive to the touch: they felt as they were swelling, like buds on the tip of a branch in springtime. Even her walk changed, she felt: It was far too early for any real weight to belong to the small form inside her, and yet she planted her feet differently, as if she carried in her hands a vessel that she must not spill.

Many months later, when her time drew near, her belly swelled out before her like a ship in sail; her back ached, and other parts, and it was wearisome to sleep or to rise from sitting. Sometimes cramps and pains ran through her like a hot knife: her own body stretching and rolling in its new, unpracticed art, in which her own self was the material from which an experiment was shaped. Inside her the coming child moved and shifted, a stranger and yet an utterly known and familiar companion.

Despite these ills, never had she felt as strong: she was as full of satisfaction as a feast-cup overflowing with wine. At her side Fëanor was both joyful and tense, prideful to the point of arrogance about his coming fatherhood, and strangely timid as he touched her rounded belly. He ran to fetch her tea, a silken cushion, sandals when she would walk: shouted at the servants to quiet the least sound of their work; came back again and again to the house from his own workroom, still smeared with soot, to see if she were well.

Her mother took her to the warm springs to rest in the water, on a time. There came suddenly about them the feeling of awe and strangeness that presaged the goings of the Valar. Suddenly, Estë and Irmo were there among the Elves who bathed amid the mossy rocks, and their attendant Maia with them. The mists of the hot springs swirled into shapes of half-seen winged forms and ghostly hands, which caressed the two tall beings as they passed, and faint silvery bells and sighing chants were heard as if at a great distance.

With gentle hands, Estë reached down to Nerdanel from her own great height, and touched her shoulders and then her swollen belly. At once, her aches and tiredness lifted, and she felt the child within her leap and play as if in response. And Nerdanel to her surprise saw that there was a sort of wonder in on the strange, fair face of Estë, who reached out a hand in turn to Irmo beside her. With a look of sorrow, the Lady of Healing said to her spouse, “But this pain to come — must it truly be so?”

The Lord of Dreams, as ever, walked with with his face shrouded in shadows under his deep hood. If he shared his lady’s emotion, they could not see it. But he bowed his head and answered in his strange cold voice: “So it is with the gifts of Ilúvatar in Arda marred. Great works are achieved through pain and labor proportionate to their excellence; and abundance creates the potential of absence, as an object brings with it its own shadow.”

When they had gone away, Nerdanel said this aloud to her mother, surprised: “Surely Estë has seen many Eldar bear their children, in the ages since we came came to Valinor, and knows the workings of our bodies? The pangs of childbirth are hard, you all say, but I am strong and ready!”

“You see,” said Nerdanel’s mother, whose face was troubled: “They do not themselves give birth. Bodies are as garments to them: a thing which may be cast off or altered, and are not in essence themselves. And seeing children is not like having them. They who have always been, and always will be, how can they understand what our children mean to us?”

“I suppose,” said Nerdanel, musing,”we Eldar are like unto their children, in some senses.”

“It is not the same,” said her mother with finality.

Soon after, Nerdanel’s labor began: the pangs that tore a shout from her, the gush of fluid and blood, the hours-long striving that drenched her in sweat and made her grind her teeth and clutch her mother’s hand. And then in her arms and Fëanor’s, at last the small, warm, and well-made child, a fine red-gold down on his head: he peered at their faces with enormous eyes, his spirit reaching out wordlessly, instinctively, to touch their own.

“Look what we have made!” she said to Fëanor.

III. Masterpiece

On the road between Tirion and Valmar, there was an unlovely place where the road passed through a narrow, rocky valley.

On a morning when the heat of the Sun beat down and the air was like the fiery breath of a forge door opened, she took her chisel and began to carve.

Week after week, she worked at it. Her hands were worn and bruised, the skin dry and cracked with stone dust, her nails broken. Her boots and leggings were covered in a thick paste of slurry, and even her tunic and other clothes were frankly unclean. Her hair was stuffed carelessly into a rough cap, from which it escaped in ragged ends.

Figure after figure, body after body, began to take form.

She made no portraits: scrupulously, she did not shape the image of a warrior one-handed; or single out a figure with a harp or a hunting hound; she did not make a king with a seven-pointed star on his armor, a son beside him as like as a young tree to a mighty oak; she did not add a pair of twins.

It was not her own emptiness alone that she made visible.

First, she carved a file of tall warriors with high-crowned helms and swords in their hands; grim faces, glimpsed beneath, fell and fair. And at the feet of the striving warriors, other figures, fallen; pierced, dying, broken.

But she was not done.

Dark forests of trees twisted and infected she carved, and between their rotten trunks the figures of swollen spiders and slinking wolves. And she did not forbear to add amidst them torn and twisted bodies, dragged away as prey.

But she was not done.

Out of the rock she brought forth the images of Morgoth’s thralls: their bodies attenuated to near-skeletal thinness, loaded with chains, surrounded by leering, monstrous guards, who mounted with triumphant lust over dishevelled captives.

Rivers of flowing fire rolled down from grim mountaintops. Fell winged monsters sped aloft. Fragmented skulls and the shattered bones of once-lovely bodies were scattered before broken towers.

Nerdanel had never seen the Aftercomers, the Children of Men, or Aulë’s people, the skilfull Khazâd, but she used her artist’s eye to guide her hand. Her tools worked out the shapes: there in stone the younger peoples fought their hopeless war against the Imprisoner, amid a sea of raging foes. Little villages burnt away, and helpless beasts of the field ran distraught, and children raised their hands to an empty sky.

On a time, her father came to her. “Daughter,” said Mahtan. “What are you doing?

“They said,” Nerdanel replied. “That this land of bliss has been fenced against those across the seas, so that even the echoes of the Noldor’s lamentation should not come to our ears. And so they raised up the mountains to these terrible heights, and set their nets of dark enchanted seas to bar all comers. They call me the Wise, and yet I am confounded: for it seems to me, Father, that they have walled out repentance, if it comes, as well as guilt — and shut out as well the screams of those who never saw a Silmaril as effectively as those who went forth to avenge Finwë.”

She threw down the weighted hammer she had in her grasp, and wiped her dusty hands on her cloak.

“But there are tears and cries of anguish closer than Middle-earth, if They have not stopped their ears. You know as well as I the dark tidings that have reached us, ever bloodier as the centuries pass. Would you know what I see of my sons in my tormented dreams? The great towering mountains do not keep those out!” Her father made a sorrowing gesture, as if he would bid her to peace, but she clenched her fists defiantly. “Praise I was given — I did not ask for it — because I did not join in Fëanor’s rash rebellion, because I bid patience to my people to wait on the Valar’s acts when we were foundering in a sea of dark that Morgoth created. I would ask you: how was that patience rewarded? If the Valar do not like my grieving — well, I would remind them that they were not the givers of all I have lost.”

She took up a fresh sharp chisel. “I ask nothing of Them, but that if They pass by, They may look — or close their eyes, if They will. Some are skilled at that, methinks.”

Mahtan went sadly away.

At first she labored alone. And then one day, she found some women standing in a knot behind her on the edge of the road, looking upward. Ladies of the Noldor: once she had known them, though not well, when all her own hours were overflowing with children and mate and her art.

There stood a tall matron whose own husband had gone with Fëanor: and with them went her sister and brother, also. She lived now all alone in a tall white house, where a single lamplit room was visible in the evenings to passersby.

There was another, a fierce politician and mistress of a weaving-guild, who had been a partisan of Fingolfin. Yet she had stayed behind, a tiny babe clasped in her arms, when her haughty grown sons had marched out of Tirion with their father. It was whispered that her spouse and children alike had been shades in the halls of Mandos before ever the new Sun rose, dead among the salt waves of Acqualonde or on the grinding ice of the crossing.

Others there were, both young and ancient, all soberly cloaked and solemn. And one came forward bearing a lamp and said to Nerdanel, “Sister, the shadows grow long here, and your eyes must be weary. Let me light your work.” Another lady came with a jug in her hands and begged her to ease herself with a draught of wine. Yet another, a brawny maid with the arms of a smith said, “Mayhap you do not remember me. I was in Mahtan’s shop when you were a little red-haired thing still playing at carving with an apple. An you give me the task, I would help you with the rougher work.”

Father and brothers, sons and nephews: men came too, mostly Noldor: and they spoke or sang of the brothers and sisters, the betrothed maid or the the beloved student, who had rebelled and gone into Exile unrelenting with their Kings and lords. And even, to her shock, there came a few from Olwë’s people. “We have not forgotten Alqualondë,” they said grimly. “But what of our kin and cousins long parted? What of the Woodland Elves who tarried on the journey, or lingered in the ancient forests east of the Ocean, or cling to the last seaside havens of its shores?” And so she added these, too, to the unfolding tale of stone.

And so the work went on faster.

And one day, they came. Yavanna as she paced slowly down the road had a crown of winter thorns in her hair, and a sober robe as of snow; Aulë had his great golden beard and long locks closely bound, and had put off the beautiful jewelry of craft and wonder that once he had rejoiced in.

The crowd of Elven men and women moved quietly aside, as the Vala approached.

Yavanna ran her hands over the stony trees of the sorrowful forests, and touched the carven forms of children amid their ruined homes. Aulë, his brow drawn, put a great work-roughened finger to the place where she had shown small, brawny warriors, beards flowing, as they lifted carven axes in defiance. They both lingered over the panel in which she showed a fallen king in the dark pit, torn by wolves, and a pair of lovers bravely striving to overcome a cruel foe amid the broken world.

And they turned to her with sorrow and sympathy in their eyes.

“Someone is coming,” said Yavanna. “He is on the road even now. The salt wind of the wide ocean stains his cloak, still, but now the white dust of Aman gathers on his shoes as he treads the empty highway to Valmar. And in his hand he bears a treasure that you know of old — for in your home dwelt he who made it.”

Her heart raced, and she turned to them with a question in her eyes. The Great Smith saw it, and shook his head. “He who bears the Silmaril is a stranger, in more ways than one. Alone among all the mortals of the world he has been permitted to alight on our shores. Out of love for all the Children of Iluvatar, the Eldar and Men, he has come to call out pity and aid from the Lords of the West.”

“The world is changing, and a new era dawning,” Yavanna followed in her sweet ringing tones. “The cry shall be heard at last: for pity, pardon for the exiles, and succor beyond hope for those who suffer in the darkened lands, ere Morgoth ascends to final and lasting victory over all. And it will be given! War against the Enemy who has despoiled the world — it is coming!”

Then Aulë said, with pity softening his craggy looks: “But lady, the tale is not yet all told. For I foresee that this jewel that comes back across the sea is the only one of the Three that shall ever come here. But of those who were your own treasures, they have soiled their claim in blood unjustly shed, falling from noble war against the Enemy to needless crimes against their own kin. A choice still lies before the few who remain, ere the close; to choose a path of repentance or despair. But a dark cloud lies over their end, and little hope, I ween. My guess is that none of your own shall come among us again, unless first they pass through death and the halls of Mandos and win release. And maybe that will not be until the world is remade.”

Yavanna had tears in her eyes, and on her sun-burnt cheek. “Perhaps it would have been more merciful to you if such sons had never been, then the fates to which they have come. To have them and to lose them all, ending in such evil downfalls: perhaps it is worse than never having — “

“No,” said the sculptor with finality. “Would you rather your Trees had never lived? Or that they grew, and once were happy, but were destroyed? And it is not for myself alone that I have been laboring. A million mother and fathers have lost their sons and daughters since Morgoth passed over the seas. And all is all: if a mother had only a single child, and lost them, then she has lost her whole joy, as much as I who have lost seven. My poor Fëanor could not bear it — to make and to love and to lose. But love in full brings with it the risk of losing and parting, as all things in the world cast their own shadow.”

She swiped a grimy hand across her cheek: ”If something is to be done about all this, at the last — good. Now I will finish.”

Then Nerdanel put down her tools and rested.

Link on Ao3 here. Comments and feedback loved and welcomed. And sharing!

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araitsume · 6 years

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Prophets and Kings, pp. 407-421: Chapter (34) Jeremiah

Among those who had hoped for a permanent spiritual revival as the result of the reformation under Josiah was Jeremiah, called of God to the prophetic office while still a youth, in the thirteenth year of Josiah's reign. A member of the Levitical priesthood, Jeremiah had been trained from childhood for holy service. In those happy years of preparation he little realized that he had been ordained from birth to be “a prophet unto the nations;” and when the divine call came, he was overwhelmed with a sense of his unworthiness. “Ah, Lord God!” he exclaimed, “behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.” Jeremiah 1:5, 6.

In the youthful Jeremiah, God saw one who would be true to his trust and who would stand for the right against great opposition. In childhood he had proved faithful; and now he was to endure hardness, as a good soldier of the cross. “Say not, I am a child,” the Lord bade His chosen messenger; “for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee.” “Gird up thy loins, and arise, and speak unto them all that I command thee: be not dismayed at their faces, lest I confound thee before them. For, behold, I have made thee this day a defensed city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee, saith the Lord, to deliver thee.” Verses 7, 8, 17-19.

For forty years Jeremiah was to stand before the nation as a witness for truth and righteousness. In a time of unparalleled apostasy he was to exemplify in life and character the worship of the only true God. During the terrible sieges of Jerusalem he was to be the mouthpiece of Jehovah. He was to predict the downfall of the house of David and the destruction of the beautiful temple built by Solomon. And when imprisoned because of his fearless utterances, he was still to speak plainly against sin in high places. Despised, hated, rejected of men, he was finally to witness the literal fulfillment of his own prophecies of impending doom, and share in the sorrow and woe that should follow the destruction of the fated city.

Yet amid the general ruin into which the nation was rapidly passing, Jeremiah was often permitted to look beyond the distressing scenes of the present to the glorious prospects of the future, when God's people should be ransomed from the land of the enemy and planted again in Zion. He foresaw the time when the Lord would renew His covenant relationship with them. “Their soul shall be as a watered garden; and they shall not sorrow any more at all.” Jeremiah 31:12.

Of his call to the prophetic mission, Jeremiah himself wrote: “The Lord put forth His hand, and touched my mouth. And the Lord said unto me, Behold, I have put My words in thy mouth. See, I have this day set thee over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out, and to pull down, and to destroy, and to throw down, to build, and to plant.” Jeremiah 1:9, 10.

Thank God for the words, “to build, and to plant.” By these words Jeremiah was assured of the Lord's purpose to restore and to heal. Stern were the messages to be borne in the years that were to follow. Prophecies of swift-coming judgments were to be fearlessly delivered. From the plains of Shinar “an evil” was to “break forth upon all the inhabitants of the land.” “I will utter My judgments against them,” the Lord declared, “touching all their wickedness, who have forsaken Me.” Verses 14, 16. Yet the prophet was to accompany these messages with assurances of forgiveness to all who should turn from their evil-doing.

As a wise master builder, Jeremiah at the very beginning of his lifework sought to encourage the men of Judah to lay the foundations of their spiritual life broad and deep, by making thorough work of repentance. Long had they been building with material likened by the apostle Paul to wood, hay, and stubble, and by Jeremiah himself to dross. “Refuse silver shall men call them,” he declared of the impenitent nation, “because the Lord hath rejected them.” Jeremiah 6:30, margin. Now they were urged to begin building wisely and for eternity, casting aside the rubbish of apostasy and unbelief, and using as foundation material the pure gold, the refined silver, the precious stones—faith and obedience and good works—which alone are acceptable in the sight of a holy God.

Through Jeremiah the word of the Lord to His people was: “Return, thou backsliding Israel, ... and I will not cause Mine anger to fall upon you: for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and I will not keep anger forever. Only acknowledge thine iniquity, that thou hast transgressed against the Lord thy God.... Turn, O backsliding children, saith the Lord; for I am married unto you.” “Thou shalt call Me, my Father; and shalt not turn away from Me.” “Return, ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings.” Jeremiah 3:12-14, 19, 22.

And in addition to these wonderful pleadings, the Lord gave His erring people the very words with which they might turn to Him. They were to say: “Behold, we come unto Thee; for Thou art the Lord our God. Truly in vain is salvation hoped for from the hills, and from the multitude of mountains: truly in the Lord our God is the salvation of Israel.... We lie down in our shame, and our confusion covereth us: for we have sinned against the Lord our God, we and our fathers, from our youth even unto this day, and have not obeyed the voice of the Lord our God.” Verses 22-25.

The reformation under Josiah had cleansed the land of the idolatrous shrines, but the hearts of the multitude had not been transformed. The seeds of truth that had sprung up and given promise of an abundant harvest had been choked by thorns. Another such backsliding would be fatal; and the Lord sought to arouse the nation to a realization of their danger. Only as they should prove loyal to Jehovah could they hope for the divine favor and for prosperity.

Jeremiah called their attention repeatedly to the counsels given in Deuteronomy. More than any other of the prophets, he emphasized the teachings of the Mosaic law and showed how these might bring the highest spiritual blessing to the nation and to every individual heart. “Ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein,” he pleaded, “and ye shall find rest for your souls.” Jeremiah 6:16.

On one occasion, by command of the Lord, the prophet took his position at one of the principal entrances to the city and there urged the importance of keeping holy the Sabbath day. The inhabitants of Jerusalem were in danger of losing sight of the sanctity of the Sabbath, and they were solemnly warned against following their secular pursuits on that day. A blessing was promised on condition of obedience. “If ye diligently hearken unto Me,” the Lord declared, and “hallow the Sabbath day, to do no work therein; then shall there enter into the gates of this city kings and princes sitting upon the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses, they, and their princes, the men of Judah, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: and this city shall remain forever.” Jeremiah 17:24, 25.

This promise of prosperity as the reward of allegiance was accompanied by a prophecy of the terrible judgments that would befall the city should its inhabitants prove disloyal to God and His law. If the admonitions to obey the Lord God of their fathers and to hallow His Sabbath day were not heeded, the city and its palaces would be utterly destroyed by fire.

Thus the prophet stood firmly for the sound principles of right living so clearly outlined in the book of the law. But the conditions prevailing in the land of Judah were such that only by the most decided measures could a change for the better be brought about; therefore he labored most earnestly in behalf of the impenitent. “Break up your fallow ground,” he pleaded, “and sow not among thorns.” “O Jerusalem, wash thine heart from wickedness, that thou mayest be saved.” Jeremiah 4:3, 14.

But by the great mass of the people the call to repentance and reformation was unheeded. Since the death of good King Josiah, those who ruled the nation had been proving untrue to their trust and had been leading many astray. Jehoahaz, deposed by the interference of the king of Egypt, had been followed by Jehoiakim, an older son of Josiah. From the beginning of Jehoiakim's reign, Jeremiah had little hope of saving his beloved land from destruction and the people from captivity. Yet he was not permitted to remain silent while utter ruin threatened the kingdom. Those who had remained loyal to God must be encouraged to persevere in rightdoing, and sinners must, if possible, be induced to turn from iniquity.

The crisis demanded a public and far-reaching effort. Jeremiah was commanded by the Lord to stand in the court of the temple and speak to all the people of Judah who might pass in and out. From the messages given him he must diminish not a word, that sinners in Zion might have the fullest possible opportunity to hearken and to turn from their evil ways.

The prophet obeyed; he stood in the gate of the Lord's house and there lifted his voice in warning and entreaty. Under the inspiration of the Almighty he declared:

“Hear the word of the Lord, all ye of Judah, that enter in at these gates to worship the Lord. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, Amend your ways and your doings, and I will cause you to dwell in this place. Trust ye not in lying words, saying, The temple of the Lord, The temple of the Lord, The temple of the Lord, are these. For if ye thoroughly amend your ways and your doings; if ye thoroughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbor; if ye oppress not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and shed not innocent blood in this place, neither walk after other gods to your hurt: then will I cause you to dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers, forever and ever.” Jeremiah 7:2-7.

The unwillingness of the Lord to chastise is here vividly shown. He stays His judgments that He may plead with the impenitent. He who exercises “loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth” yearns over His erring children; in every way possible He seeks to teach them the way of life everlasting. Jeremiah 9:24. He had brought the Israelites out of bondage that they might serve Him, the only true and living God. Though they had wandered long in idolatry and had slighted His warnings, yet He now declares His willingness to defer chastisement and grant yet another opportunity for repentance. He makes plain the fact that only by the most thorough heart reformation could the impending doom be averted. In vain would be the trust they might place in the temple and its services. Rites and ceremonies could not atone for sin. Notwithstanding their claim to be the chosen people of God, reformation of heart and of the life practice alone could save them from the inevitable result of continued transgression.

Thus it was that “in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem” the message of Jeremiah to Judah was, “Hear ye the words of this covenant,”—the plain precepts of Jehovah as recorded in the Sacred Scriptures,—“and do them.” Jeremiah 11:6. And this is the message he proclaimed as he stood in the temple courts in the beginning of the reign of Jehoiakim.

Israel's experience from the days of the Exodus was briefly reviewed. God's covenant with them had been, “Obey My voice, and I will be your God, and ye shall be My people: and walk ye in all the ways that I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you.” Shamelessly and repeatedly had this covenant been broken. The chosen nation had “walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward.” Jeremiah 7:23, 24.

“Why,” the Lord inquired, “is this people of Jerusalem slidden back by a perpetual backsliding?” Jeremiah 8:5. In the language of the prophet it was because they had obeyed not the voice of the Lord their God and had refused to be corrected. See Jeremiah 5:3. “Truth is perished,” he mourned, “and is cut off from their mouth.” “The stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time of their coming; but My people know not the judgment of the Lord.” “Shall I not visit them for these things? saith the Lord: shall not My soul be avenged on such a nation as this?” Jeremiah 7:28; 8:7; Jeremiah 9:9.

The time had come for deep heart searching. While Josiah had been their ruler, the people had had some ground for hope. But no longer could he intercede in their behalf, for he had fallen in battle. The sins of the nation were such that the time for intercession had all but passed by. “Though Moses and Samuel stood before Me,” the Lord declared, “yet My mind could not be toward this people: cast them out of My sight, and let them go forth. And it shall come to pass, if they say unto thee, Whither shall we go forth? then thou shalt tell them. Thus saith the Lord; Such as are for death, to death; and such as are for the sword, to the sword; and such as are for the famine, to the famine; and such as are for the captivity, to the captivity.” Jeremiah 15:1, 2.

A refusal to heed the invitation of mercy that God was now offering would bring upon the impenitent nation the judgments that had befallen the northern kingdom of Israel over a century before. The message to them now was: “If ye will not hearken to Me, to walk in My law, which I have set before you, to hearken to the words of My servants the prophets, whom I sent unto you, both rising up early, and sending them, but ye have not hearkened; then will I make this house like Shiloh, and will make this city a curse to all the nations of the earth.” Jeremiah 26:4-6.

Those who stood in the temple court listening to Jeremiah's discourse understood clearly this reference to Shiloh, and to the time in the days of Eli when the Philistines had overcome Israel and carried away the ark of the testament.

The sin of Eli had consisted in passing lightly over the iniquity of his sons in sacred office, and over the evils prevailing throughout the land. His neglect to correct these evils had brought upon Israel a fearful calamity. His sons had fallen in battle, Eli himself had lost his life, the ark of God had been taken from the land of Israel, thirty thousand of the people had been slain—and all because sin had been allowed to flourish unrebuked and unchecked. Israel had vainly thought that, notwithstanding their sinful practices, the presence of the ark would ensure them victory over the Philistines. In like manner, during the days of Jeremiah, the inhabitants of Judah were prone to believe that a strict observance of the divinely appointed services of the temple would preserve them from a just punishment for their wicked course.

What a lesson is this to men holding positions of responsibility today in the church of God! What a solemn warning to deal faithfully with wrongs that bring dishonor to the cause of truth! Let none who claim to be the depositaries of God's law flatter themselves that the regard they may outwardly show toward the commandments will preserve them from the exercise of divine justice. Let none refuse to be reproved for evil, nor charge the servants of God with being too zealous in endeavoring to cleanse the camp from evil-doing. A sin-hating God calls upon those who claim to keep His law to depart from all iniquity. A neglect to repent and to render willing obedience will bring upon men and women today as serious consequences as came upon ancient Israel. There is a limit beyond which the judgments of Jehovah can no longer be delayed. The desolation of Jerusalem in the days of Jeremiah is a solemn warning to modern Israel, that the counsels and admonitions given them through chosen instrumentalities cannot be disregarded with impunity.

Jeremiah's message to priests and people aroused the antagonism of many. With boisterous denunciation they cried out, “Why hast thou prophesied in the name of the Lord, saying, This house shall be like Shiloh, and this city shall be desolate without an inhabitant? And all the people were gathered against Jeremiah in the house of the Lord.” Jeremiah 26:9. Priests, false prophets, and people turned in wrath upon him who would not speak to them smooth things or prophesy deceit. Thus was the message of God despised, and His servant threatened with death.

Tidings of the words of Jeremiah were carried to the princes of Judah, and they hastened from the palace of the king to the temple, to learn for themselves the truth of the matter. “Then spake the priests and the prophets unto the princes and to all the people, saying, This man is worthy to die; for he hath prophesied against this city, as ye have heard with your ears.” Verse 11. But Jeremiah stood boldly before the princes and the people, declaring: “The Lord sent me to prophesy against this house and against this city all the words that ye have heard. Therefore now amend your ways and your doings, and obey the voice of the Lord your God; and the Lord will repent Him of the evil that He hath pronounced against you. As for me, behold, I am in your hand: do with me as seemeth good and meet unto you. But know ye for certain, that if ye put me to death, ye shall surely bring innocent blood upon yourselves, and upon this city, and upon the inhabitants thereof: for of a truth the Lord hath sent me unto you to speak all these words in your ears.” Verses 12-15.

Had the prophet been intimidated by the threatening attitude of those high in authority, his message would have been without effect, and he would have lost his life; but the courage with which he delivered the solemn warning commanded the respect of the people and turned the princes of Israel in his favor. They reasoned with the priests and false prophets, showing them how unwise would be the extreme measures they advocated, and their words produced a reaction in the minds of the people. Thus God raised up defenders for His servant.

The elders also united in protesting against the decision of the priests regarding the fate of Jeremiah. They cited the case of Micah, who had prophesied judgments upon Jerusalem, saying, “Zion shall be plowed like a field, and Jerusalem shall become heaps, and the mountain of the house as the high places of a forest.” And they asked: “Did Hezekiah king of Judah and all Judah put him at all to death? did he not fear the Lord, and besought the Lord, and the Lord repented Him of the evil which He had pronounced against them? Thus might we procure great evil against our souls.” Verses 18, 19.

Through the pleading of these men of influence the prophet's life was spared, although many of the priests and false prophets, unable to endure the condemning truths he uttered, would gladly have seen him put to death on the plea of sedition.

From the day of his call to the close of his ministry, Jeremiah stood before Judah as “a tower and a fortress” against which the wrath of man could not prevail. “They shall fight against thee,” the Lord had forewarned His servant, “but they shall not prevail against thee: for I am with thee to save thee and to deliver thee, saith the Lord. And I will deliver thee out of the hand of the wicked, and I will redeem thee out of the hand of the terrible.” Jeremiah 6:27; 15:20, 21.

Naturally of a timid and shrinking disposition, Jeremiah longed for the peace and quiet of a life of retirement, where he need not witness the continued impenitence of his beloved nation. His heart was wrung with anguish over the ruin wrought by sin. “O that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears,” he mourned, “that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people! O that I had in the wilderness a lodging place of wayfaring men; that I might leave my people, and go from them.” Jeremiah 9:1, 2.

Cruel were the mockings he was called upon to endure. His sensitive soul was pierced through and through by the arrows of derision hurled at him by those who despised his messages and made light of his burden for their conversion. “I was a derision to all my people,” he declared, “and their song all the day.” “I am in derision daily, everyone mocketh me.” “All my familiars watched for my halting, saying, Peradventure he will be enticed, and we shall prevail against him, and we shall take our revenge on him.” Lamentations 3:14; Jeremiah 20:7, 10.

But the faithful prophet was daily strengthened to endure. “The Lord is with me as a mighty terrible One,” he declared in faith; “therefore my persecutors shall stumble, and they shall not prevail: they shall be really ashamed; for they shall not prosper: their everlasting confusion shall never be forgotten.” “Sing unto the Lord, praise ye the Lord: for He hath delivered the soul of the poor from the hand of evildoers.” Jeremiah 20:11, 13.

The experiences through which Jeremiah passed in the days of his youth and also in the later years of his ministry, taught him the lesson that “the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.” He learned to pray, “O Lord, correct me, but with judgment; not in Thine anger, lest Thou bring me to nothing.” Jeremiah 10:23, 24.

When called to drink of the cup of tribulation and sorrow, and when tempted in his misery to say, “My strength and my hope is perished from the Lord,” he recalled the providences of God in his behalf and triumphantly exclaimed, “It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.” Lamentations 3:18, 22-26.

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a-tale-of-moons · 4 years

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Chapter III: Patriots In the Night

I certainly never conceived I’d be saying this sentence; the undead is serving me soup.

There are rumors that in big cities, the extremely affluent exhume the bodies of those too poor to buy protection and fill them with enough living essence to do their bidding. Growing up in Willowbrook, I assumed I’d never have the means to confirm or deny such a heinous accusation.

In small towns, we let the dead lie. The closest we come to meddling with the affairs of the dead is our belief that occasionally the spirit of the deceased resurrects inside of a living vessel, like a beloved animal.

At first glance, they look almost alive. But, upon closer inspection, the skin is sallow with a plasticky film. Which I can only assume is some sort of preservation technique. The eyes are focused to such a fine degree that it is unnatural. Even their smiles seem painted on and disingenuous.

“They call them phantoms. The wealthier you are, the more phantoms you can afford,” Jacoby whispers to me while we’re sitting at the table. “They’re barely sentient. Just husks of once people with one-track minds, if that isn’t too generous a term. No emotions. No free thoughts. They can only take commands and follow them out. There’s no reasoning with them either. So, keep your distance.”

“Rich people are so…” I whisper back, baffled at the lengths those with money will go to flaunt said money to other people who also have money in their inane competitions. It sickens me to my stomach.

“Well, as of this moment, you are one of those “rich people.” Jacoby reminds me before he straightens up and turns to make conversation with Esper. Although I know he’s just trying to help keep our facade as strong as possible, I can’t help feeling chastised. He’s right, of course. I am one of these people. And if I act any other way, it means death for all of us. I have to start thinking more like a princess and less like a boyish orphan from the countryside.

Our audience with the king and queen isn’t for a couple more days. This week is purposed for the prince and I to get acquainted. We have an entire itinerary that includes things like walks in the royal gardens and private lunches. Also, there is a performance to be held at the end of the week in honor of my arrival where I’ll make my first public appearance as future crown princess. I want to be nervous, but I’ll have every evening until the performance to wallow in my anxiety; so, I choose to savor this moment of relative ease.

Besides the walking dead, the dining hall is beautifully decorated. Braeins sport their colors with pride, I’ve noticed. Blue and silver tapestry hang to the side of every window. Blue linen adorns the ornate, wooden tables. And adjacent to every window is a sparkling flag. Growing up in a tiny village where if you're not starving that means you're in someone's good graces, I can't imagine having so much pride in that. Love for the people, yes. And appreciation for the blessings, yes. But, pride in an invisible, unreachable country where the chosen lot live in luxury and the discarded others fend for themselves? When I know Ama is wasting away in her bed while these nobles stuff their faces with handfuls of privilege, it's impossible to find a place in my heart for patriotism.

I'll play the part of a spoon-fed princess for as long as I have to in order for us to get back to Ama, but I'll never consider myself to be truly apart of these greedy people's ranks. And that, I can take pride in.

During my quiet survey, I notice the prince taking glances at me. My first instinct is to tell him off before I remember where I am and who I’m supposed to be. Of course he’s curious. I’m his bride-to-be. I suppose I should be curious about him as well. He’s handsome; that much is obvious. And he seems to be amiable enough. Definitely not a nose in the air type of royal. I can appreciate that. But, I do have to consider that he’s mingling with “the princess”. If he knew I was just a poor orphan from one of the discarded villages he and his royal posse or whatever they’re called deem unfit to bother with, maybe it would have been a different introduction.

Throughout the dinner, I do my best to obey Jacoby’s instructions. Polite, and brief. Don’t say much more than I have to. So when the prince addresses me, asking me about our journey, I simply mention how hot it was. But, when I feel Jacoby stiffen beside me, I know I’ve already said the wrong thing in so few words. It takes me a couple of stalled beats, but the realization dawns on me. I’m a princess. Or, ...a thief playing the role of a princess. I should have been in my comfortable carriage, shielded from the sun, being fanned by my personal servants and drinking the chillest water that’s been fetched from the clearest of rivers. There is no reason for me to have felt any sort of temperature I found displeasurable. With the daintiest flick of my wrist, I should be able to have anything I desire. Moreover, I can dismiss anyone who doesn’t bend over backwards in pursuit of those desires, no matter how silly or trivial. And absolutely no one would dare accuse me of being unreasonable for it. The world is within my palm. I should want for nothing at all.

So, for me to complain about my journey being uncomfortable in the slightest is a dumb mistake I’ve made before the dessert has even hit the table. Elora may have been right. Should I have fought harder for my sister to take my place instead of letting my own ego get the better of me? Perhaps.

“Hot, huh?” The prince seems to mull over my words. And although irrational as it would be, I fear he’s going to see right through our facade at this very moment and throw us all in the dungeons to await our shared fate. However, his gentle grin doesn’t falter for even a second as he says, “It can get quite warm even inside of a carriage with this weather. Today, we’re cursing the heat. And soon enough, we'll be cursing the cold. Funny, no?”

“Quite,” I say, biting back the relief that pulses high in my throat.

This is only the first of the intimidating list of mistakes I make during the various courses.

The dinner passes in long pauses and heavy sighs. I couldn’t be worse at this if I tried. My hubris is going to be the death of us all. By the time the prince is bidding us goodnight and Jacoby is escorting me to my room for retirement, I have to hold in tears. Not the sniffle and whimper kind, either. It’s the tears that make me say a prayer because I’m afraid I’ll really just suffocate with my face in a pillow.

“Tomorrow will be better,” Jacoby says and pats my shoulder. I can hardly look him in the eyes. I’m so ashamed I may just curl in the tiniest ball I can manage and evaporate into the air. Not much harm I can do anyone as a particle floating through the universe.

“No one died. Stop looking like that.” Jacoby lowers himself on the enormous bed beside me.

“Not yet,” I say, finally looking at him with wet, itchy eyes.

Jacoby huffs. “The only one dying around here is me, of boredom! All the money he can wish for with the freedom to roam, much more than a princess has, and all the prince talks about are his horses and the gardens.”

“I’m serious.” I'm borderline shrieking. “I might get us caught and beheaded.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Serious,” Jacoby says with a dumb smile. “I’m Reasonable. No one’s getting beheaded. It’s been a stressful few days. I’m not going to lie and say the hard part is over. Truthfully, it’s only just beginning. But, by tomorrow, the prince will have forgotten all about your tongue slips. So, be careful not to make anymore and we’ll all be just fine, yeah?”

Maybe that’s supposed to be comforting. All I hear is our fate is hanging suspended over a bottomless pit. Too many hacks at the frayed rope and we’ll be consumed. And I’m the one tasked to safeguard the rusty axe that does the aforementioned hacking in my sweaty, tremoring fingers. Ah...very reassuring.

“As relieving as it is to know our lives are basically in my hands, I think I’ll refrain from hearing the rest of this moving speech,” I say. “Wouldn’t want the well of wisdom to run dry. Because, whatever would we do then?”

“I can take a hint.” Jacoby gets up, straightening his robes lazily. “Try to get some sleep, alright? You’re having a picnic lunch with the prince tomorrow. Just before high noon, some ladies will come and help you get ready. And then after that, you’ll have lessons with various tutors.”

“Tutors?”

“Yes, tutors.” Jacoby confirms with a nod. “The princess is expected to be highly knowledgeable about most subjects. Mathematics, arts, science, and even a bit of politics. Not enough to rival your male counterparts. But, enough to sit in on discussions and make intellectual interjections.”

Groaning, I throw myself back on the bed. “Foraging in the blazing heat is easier than being a princess. You should have let Elora do it. She’s better at this stuff than I am. She’d probably even have fun. Meanwhile, this corset is making me sweat in places I didn’t know sweated until today. Plus, I’ve started to perfect breathing every two beats instead of one so it’s not digging into my spine constantly. As pitiful as it sounds, I’m actually kind of proud of myself.”

“Elora? In charge of sensitive information we need to save Ama’s life?” Jacoby deadpans. “If that sentence actually sits right with you, that corset is tighter than you’re letting on. Look, I need to squeeze information out of Esper, so I can get it back to you. I’ll come back later to say goodnight.”

After pressing a kiss to my forehead, Jacoby takes his leave. Soon after he’s gone, a group of women sweep in to undress me. I wonder where Elora is as the women pull my limbs this way and that. I actually miss her, smartass quips and all.

By the time they’re finished, I’m left alone in a flowy nightgown that looks too exquisite to be worn to bed. I gaze toward the window. It’s well into dusk. But, I’m not tired. Oddly enough, all throughout the day, especially at dinner, I could only think of when I would be able to sink into this colossal bed. Now that nothing is stopping me, I couldn’t be more disinterested in sleeping. I look to one of the huge flags hanging on the wall. I know now that the prince’s room is just on the other side of the wall that particular flag is hanging on. I wonder if he’s also getting ready for bed.

It only occured to me briefly before that I might have to hold his hand. Maybe kiss him. Pretend that I’m falling in love with this man I’m destined to betray. I’ll have to deceive him. Lie straight to his face without so much as twitching or blinking out of tune. If I continue to bumble along like tonight, we’ll all be drug into scrutiny. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.

Feeling strangely energetic, I slide my feet into a pair of slippers and venture out into the looming hall. It’s dimly lit. And empty in a sinister way. Maybe it’s meant to be that way. I only remember the dead-eyed phantoms when I hear something that sounds too much like feet scuffling. My heart thumps to an off-beat tune. Suddenly, I feel a chill that makes me shiver all the way to my curled toes. It’s as if my body senses it before my eyes have a chance to process.

At first, it looks like a regular servant, arms heavy with bundles of candles. But, it doesn’t take long for me to notice the way it barely shifts. It doesn’t take a moment to shiver from the cold. It doesn’t allow its eyes to roam around the empty hall. It’s so focused on its task that my throat goes cold and my chest tightens. The other end of the hall doesn’t lead out. This is a little hallway purposed solely to house the prince and princess’ rooms. And I’ve already roamed too far from my room to go back. The only way out is to scuttle around the phantom as it passes. And the thought of having to get so close to it when I’m completely and utterly alone makes me want to cry. It’s gaining on me and I have no way of escape. So, I hold my breath and brace myself to rush past it.

But, before it gets close enough, the prince’s door opens and before I have time to think I rush inside and press my back against the wall, panting lightly. I know I’m being stared at, but I can only laugh hysterically as the relief floods inside of me. I feel at ease and stupid all at once. Of course, the phantom doesn’t dive in behind me in hot pursuit. It shuffles past the open door and goes about its business of light maintenance. Buzzing like a jack rabbit, I remove myself from the wall and force myself to look at Nathaniel. I expect him to seem disturbed, or surprised at the very least. Instead, he looks almost as if he’s holding back a laugh of his own.

“They take some getting used to,” he says. “But, I promise they mean you no harm.”

Adrenaline is still pumping like molten lava through my veins, so I can barely manage a jerky nod. Nathaniel poses me a speculative expression before closing the door and crossing the rug to sit on the edge of his mammoth bed. I notice he’s still in his robes from dinner. He pats the space next to him. I hesitate for a moment, supposing I should feel scandalized. I’m in a nightgown and slippers, drowning in the belly of this man’s room. My soon-to-be husband, sure. But, still...a princess of quality breeding should know better than to mingle unattended with a man who isn’t yet her husband.

How fortunate that I’m of rather seedy breeding then.

I sit next to him.

It’s my first time being so close to any man who isn’t one of my brothers. And I would hardly call Jacoby or Pond men. More like men-like creatures who still think it’s funny to shove their saliva-drenched fingers down my ears. Nathaniel is a full grown man of twenty. He smells of vanilla and musk. I realize that my palms are uncomfortably moist.

“I always imagined I’d meet my wife on one of my courageous adventures. I’d probably save her from having her soul devoured by a demented necromancer. Then, we’d fall in love and I’d make her my queen,” Nathaniel says, voice low and hands clasped. Nostalgic. “On the eve of my seventeenth birthday, my father told me of a beautiful, accomplished princess from a small textile kingdom whom I was already betrothed. I was furious. I stomped around the castle for months, throwing tantrums like an overgrown child and detesting the very thought of you. Then, at some point, I stopped being angry. I realized you were thrust into this just as much as I was. I was born into a life of privilege and I’m arranged to be wed to a charming and intelligent young lady. Oh, poor me.”

I have no words. I always imagined royals to be selfish and narcissistic puppets, incapable of having thoughts that stretch further than their distaste for the buttered rolls at supper or the color of their bed linens. Being brought up in a poor village bordering a tiny kingdom where even the privileged few are just getting by themselves, it’s easy to believe the stories of the gluttonous aristocrats. It’s comfortable even, just to figure they don’t care enough about anyone else.

I look up, and notice he’s giving me that mysterious look again. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are heavily guarded, careful not to disclose his thoughts behind them.

“I grew up privileged as well,” I say tentatively. It’s not a total lie. I never went hungry or had to beg for necessities on the side of the road. Ama provided for us as well as she could and we were always content. “That being so, I understand I have certain obligations and responsibilities. I’m sure you’d prefer as much as I would for more of a choice in this. However, if this is the way it has to be, I’ll do my best to make this a pleasant arrangement. If you are willing to do the same?”

Nathaniel takes my hands in his and I startle a bit.

“I am more than willing.” His eyes are so penetrating I feel like the oxygen has been sucked from my body and I’m breathing on borrowed air that will eventually run out. “This is my future, our future, at stake. And it’s going to be bright. That, I can promise you.”

I can hardly do anything more than nod. My chest is tight, conflicted. Not only am I going to steal from this man who has shown nothing but kindness to me. I’m also stealing the actual princess’ place in his heart. And I can’t be sure if she’s alive or dead. I’m a monster.

“It’s getting late now, and I have some work to finish before I retire to bed. I have something I want to show you, though.” Nathaniel stands, still holding my hands, and I rise with him. He leads me over to one of the many flags displayed in his grandiose room. I’m confused for a moment. He can’t possibly want to show me the Braein flag. It’s in every room I’ve been in so far. Then, before I have a chance to ask he lifts one end of the flag to reveal a brass door handle.

“It’s a little passageway that connects our rooms,” he says. “I’ve had the dirt cleaned and the cobwebs cleared. You are free to lock the door on your end at any time, but mine will always be open for you. If you want someone to talk to, or just a place to hide from your ladies-in-waiting, you are welcome.”

“Thank you, Prince Nathaniel,” I say.

“Just Nathaniel.” He smiles.

“Why are you so perfect?” I sound incredulous, even to myself.

The prince makes another one of those expressions I’m so caught up in decoding that I just barely am able to process his actual words. “I’m nowhere near perfect. There are some unsavory details about myself I’m being very careful to keep from you. And I hope I can keep it that way. But, you, Princess? You truly are flawless.”

“You say that after I made an imbecile of myself at dinner?” I scoff and look away. “There is no need to flatter me with lies.”

With a finger under my chin, Nathaniel gently guides my face his way. “In an earnest attempt to impress my royal court and bring honor to your kingdom you exposed an emotion so human as anxiety. Can't quite consider that a fault. Actually it was rather endearing.”

I can only spare a moment to relish in the gentle warmth that spreads across my chest before it hits me. Something like light tugging just above the nape of my neck. Of all times, it chooses now.

The distinctive tingle in my scalp sets my face on fire. In an instant, I’m mortified.

“Princess, is something the matter?” Nathaniel’s voice sounds like an echo in the wind. I’m so ashamed I simply make a weak apology and excuse myself in a hurry so I can flee back to my room. I’m so aghast I don’t even spare any energy to be afraid as I whip past the phantom and dive inside of my room, pushing the door shut behind me and collapsing on my bed.

The tingle ensues and I’m so out of breath at this point that I take in large and labored gulps of oxygen, hoping something can cool the inferno raging through my ribcage.

Am I blooming?

#chapters #a tale of moons

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divnitae · 6 years

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Free Falling (kth)

characters : kim taehyung x you (guest appearances by the mochi, park jimin)

genre : fluff, romance, au

description: a story of how kim taehyung continues to fall in love with you throughout the years

author’s notes : this marks my official debut into this writing business, and though this isn’t my first time writing, it is one of my first works launched on tumblr ( was an avid aff writer once upon a blue moon ). ending is a little rushed, but i’ve been fixing and rewriting so many moments here that i realized i should just let this go and move on to one of my many other plot bunnies. neverthless, i hope you enjoy and i apologize in advance for the plethora of writing styles mashed into one here since i’ve been writing this in bits and pieces, and every day launches a different style / approach to convey what i want for this. should also warn you that this isn’t proofread so there may be typos / weird sentences here and there, oops!

word count : 3065

Five.

That’s the age Kim Taehyung claims to have fallen in love you, or so he says while retelling what he also perceives as the greatest love story of all time since Romeo and Juliet. You have to remind Taehyung then, that the Shakespeare classic is more of a tragedy than an epic romance, and that knowing the real definition of love at that young of an age is highly implausible. But once Taehyung’s mind is set on something it’s hard to change his mind, so despite your protests and eye rolls, Taehyung remains firm that it is five when you first make his heart skip a beat.

It begins with snack time at kindergarten, and today the teachers are passing out everyone’s beloved chocolate pudding. Because Kim Taehyung is an obedient kid (at this moment, you let out an un-lady like snort), he is the last in line because he had to put away all the blocks he was playing with into the cubbies. By the time it reaches his turn, there is exactly one cup left and just as his small fingers are about to clasp onto the delicacy, another grubby hand comes into view and snatches the pudding right from his eyes.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and his mouth pops open into a small ‘o’ as he turns his head upwards to meet the eyes of no other than his childhood nemesis, Park Hyunjoong.

Hyunjoong’s lips are curled into an evil simper as he stares down Taehyung, daring the latter boy to say something and when Taehyung doesn’t attempt to do anything, Hyunjoong lets out a loud chuckle. Taehyung’s been conditioned to let Hyunjoong have anything he wants, since the bully was bigger and also had a posse of other boys that followed Hyunjoong’s actions suit. From running over Taehyung’s sandcastles to smearing black paint over Taehyung’s masterpieces, Kim Hyunjoong was a force that Taehyun could not reckon with, and so with great reluctance, Taehyung swallows down his disappointment and pride, ready to let Hyunjoong take his snack.

But that’s when you come into view, marching in without a single fear in the world as you jab a finger into Hyunjoong’s side, causing the boy to jump up and simultaneously let go of the pudding cup. You catch it easily and step towards Taehyung, shoving it into his chest as he fumbles to get a good grip.

“Don’t you have better things to do than to steal other people’s food?” You turn your heel back to face Hyunjoong, who is still flabbergasted at the series of events. He releases a huff and something along the lines of “my parents told me not to fight with girls” before storming away, obviously a little shaken that someone had come in to defend Taehyung.

“T-Thanks,” Taehyung clutches the chocolate now with all his might, and when you turn around and flash him the sweetest smile he has ever seen in his life, his heart starts up a drumroll that quickens with each passing second.

“You’re welcome.” You say and after a moment’s thought, you reach out and interlock your fingers with Taehyung’s, giving him a slight tug forwards, “Come on. Let’s build a sandcastle."

You two have been inseparable ever since, much to the young boy’s delight.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Twelve.

Taehyung is the newest addition to the community center’s junior soccer team and it’s either the best decision his parents had ever made, or it’s the worst. The sport helps wear off the seemingly endless bundle of energy Taehyung always carries, but it also paints his skin with purpling bruises and temporary scars. Still, Taehyung’s youthful passion for soccer helps keep him enrolled, and this is why he’s continuing to spend his Thursday evenings running around the grass field, kicking the black and white ball back in forth to his new friend (who will also eventually become one of this closest), Park Jimin.

You on the other hand, spent Thursday evenings learning how to draw and paint at the same community center’s art class. You get out an hour earlier before Taehyung, but given that you are attending the same place as Taehyung, his parents and yours worked out a carpooling arrangement. So, every Thursday after you finish packing all your colored pencils or watercolor paints, you make your way to the field and sit on the bleachers, watching Taehyung’s practice for the remaining time.

This particular Thursday is no different. The sun’s in the process of beginning to set when you make your way towards the bleachers, carefully climbing your way up the steps, before sitting down on the metallic benches. You pull out the short novel your class is assigned to read and open it up to the bookmarked page, skimming through while occasionally looking up to see Taehyung wave frantically at you or to see him exchanging high-fives with Jimin. You smile every time you two make eye contact, and after several minutes you decide that you can’t focus on the reading. So, you put the book back into your knapsack, pulling the zipper all the way around to securely enclose all your school supplies. Satisfied, you lean back against the higher set of benches, charcoal colored locks spilling over the seats as you drink in the sight before you.

Taehyung has moved onto goal and defense practice now, which consists of alternating the boys into goalie and scorer spots. You watch as Taehyung throws a bright, boxy grin at you before turning frontwards, top teeth sunken into his bottom lip in unmistakable determination as he focuses in on all the possible blind spots of Jimin, who is the current goalie. Inhaling a deep breath of air, he takes a few steps back before charging at the ball until the sole of his bright blue soccer cleats make contact with the ball, sending it flying in a diagonal direction of the post.

Jimin is fooled for a mere second, but the second has taken its toll, and despite earnestly lurching towards the ball, he fails to catch it, and the team erupts into cheers.

Taehyung wastes no time to jog up to his friend, who flashes him a good-natured smile in return, and runs out of the goalie spot, in which Taehyung fills in.

Another teammate whom you don’t recognize is the next one up, and he too, like Taehyung wears the expression of pure conviction. That is perhaps the reason why he sends the ball flying with two much force, in a crooked angle that somehow winds up being the same direction as Taehyung’s face.

The time slows as you watch in horror as the soccer ball makes contact with the goalie’s face, and he’s knocked back, landing on the soft patch of grass.

You hastily run down the bleachers, towards the forming circle. When Jimin spots you, he makes room for you to wiggle in as well.

Their coach has already arrived and is inspecting Taehyung carefully, brows knit together in worry. Taehyung on the other hand, remains motionless for a few more seconds before emitting a low hiss of pain. You feel your eyes beginning to water in worry and empathy, and you’re just a half step away from crying when Taehyung opens his eyes, and looks at you.

His nose is bleeding, right eye in process of becoming a black one, but he still manages to crack a grin at you.

You let out a soft sob as you dash the remaining small distance to your friend, hands gripping onto one of his.

"A-Are you okay?” You choke out and Taehyung wants to say yes, but he is in pain, so all he can do is let out another groan.

You free your left hand, reaching into the pocket of your jeans to pull out a clean tissue and begin pinching his nose, just the way your mother taught you when a bloody nose was happening.

“I-It’s okay, y-you don’t have to s-say anything.” You sniffle as you start dabbing at the mess under the bridge of his nose, “Y-You’re going to be okay.”

And Taehyung knows it is, because you’re here, taking care of him just as if you were his guardian angel.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Eighteen.

It’s the night of your graduation, but instead of celebrating it, you’re flooding Taehyung’s chest with warm tears. Your first boyfriend, first love, Park Jinyoung, had just broken up with you after going out for about nine months.

Distance. Different paths. Dreams.

He had tried to explain the reasoning to you with the three different d’s, but all that resonated in your ear was, “Y/N, I think we should end this.”

You feel Taehyung’s hand rhythmically patting your back, his chin on top of your head as he feels every tremor, every vibration that is sent down your spine because of your loud sobs. Taehyung has never liked that sparkly-eyed boyfriend, wait, ex-boyfriend of yours for some “unexplainable” reason , and if he’s disliked him then, he’s hating him now, for bringing you tears instead of laughter, for breaking your heart, which simultaneously breaks his.

Who, in their sane mind, would break up with you?

Your bed shakes with another shake that’s not your own. It’s Taehyung’s phone which lays haphazardly next to him.

A message from Jimin (whom you’ve also become good friends with) saying that he just wrapped his graduation dinner with his parents and was on his way over to your house with chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Taehyung quickly texts back an okay and smiley face before tossing the device down again, returning to soothing you.

"I-It’s n-not l-like I didn’t expect t-this.“ You croak out, momentarily pulling away from Taehyung’s warmth. Your lashes are wet, voice is hoarse, looking so small that Taehyung just wants to pocket you and shield you from all the pain in the world.

"H-He’s b-been hinting at it s-since we turned in app-applications.” You continue, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. From the corner of your eye, you spot Taehyung wordlessly reach for the box of Kleenex on your nightstand. “I j-just d-didn’t expect him to end it be-before trying it out.”

Taehyung remains silent as he carefully dabs at your eye with the soft cloth, much like the way you wiped away his injury almost six years ago.

“Am I j-just not good enough for h-him to want to try?”

Taehyung, who has been quietly supporting you for the past hour and a half, looks up at you, shell-shocked that you would even imply such absurdity.

And he voices it too.

“Where the f*ck is that coming from, Y/N?” He demands, almost shouts, because that sort of implication is just ludicrous and he wants to clean out any speck of insecurity from you.

You shrug, “Why else would he break up without even trying?"

"Because he’s an idiot.” Taehyung replies without missing a beat, “And as cliché as it sounds, you’ll find someone better. Someone that will fight through thick and thin with you. Besides, he’s not even that great. His face looks like a girl’s, and all he does is whine about how bad cafeteria food is, and he makes you wait for him after his classes instead of the other way around, and —”

“Stop it, Tae.” You cut off Taehyung’s long list of complaints of Jinyoung, “I don’t want to be that kind of ex."

At Taehyung’s confusion, you explain, "You know, the kind that just has negative things to say about her past boyfriend. I don’t want to be that kind of girl. He’s a nice guy despite everything and I wish nothing but the best for him.”

Taehyung wants to melt at the spot, because you are truly an angel. He feels the quenching of his heart them; it’s a bittersweet feeling because as much as he feels the pain with you, he feels blessed to know an angel like you — to love an angel like you.

Love.

It’s at that moment when you finally get up from the bed, ready to box up any items that remind you of Jinyoung, that everything clicks.

Taehyung loves you … has been loving you.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Twenty-one.

It’s sloppy and rough, but you shouldn’t expect anything more from a product consisting of intoxicated minds and unspoken feelings.

It begins with a sudden feat that started a few weeks ago, when butterflies began swarming in flocks whenever your certain childhood friend happened to be near you. You realize then that he was no longer the chubby toddler who needed saving from playground bullies, no longer the clumsy athlete who always got injured someway somehow, no longer the sibling like figure because your recent thoughts of him were highly inappropriate for a brother.

No, you liked-liked him, possibly even more because the way you felt about crushes was nowhere near the intensity of this.

On the other hand, despite his composed facial features when you pull away from him for air, he’s a train wreck.

His feelings had been locked in a chest, key thrown out into the seven seas, yet you had managed to find a way to unlock all these hidden feelings.

Your lips are swollen, lipstick smudged, bangs matted against your forehead, and even though to others you look like a mess, to Taehyung you couldn’t be more beautiful.

He loves you even more now that his lips had been atop of yours.

He loves you even more now that his arms had wrapped around your waist.

He loves you even more now that you were flushed and red-faced, and that it’s mostly due to him than the cheap soju you had taken shots of hours ago.

And he loves you even more now that he has heard all your hidden feelings, coming out in a flurry because you’re scared and nervous.

He stops you with a finger pressed against your lips, his brows furrowed.

“Shh.” He hushes you and you feel your stomach drop because he obviously doesn’t share the same feelings and now you just ruined your greatest friendship of all time, but he responds to your change in facial expressions with an amused look.

“What are you thinking about?” He says softly, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt it upwards, “I just wanted to be the one who confessed first since I obviously have loved you longer.”

You’re at a loss for word at his outspokenness, but your mind turns blank once more when he slams his lips against yours.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Twenty six.

If Park Jimin was a mean person, he would shut off his phone, flush it down the toilet, or something along the lines so he could never be reached again. His mobile phone began to tremor approximately an hour ago, but now it’s in a full blown out seizure, no thanks to a certain Kim Taehyung, who Jimin know regrets calling a close friend.

But Jimin is not a mean person, so he leaves his phone on, lets the Kakoatalk messages arrive in a frenzy because Taehyung isn’t patient enough to send everything in a long block, and tries to be even more understanding than he already is.

Taehyung is currently having a panic attack because nothing he had planned is going through.

He originally had a reservation at your favorite Italian restaurant, but for some reason the booking never got marked. You two had arrived there decked in semi-formal clothing, only to be turned away because the restaurant is always full and despite Taehyung’s pleads, the effort is futile.

Which is why you two are currently strolling down a busy street, pausing every now and then to pick something up from the multitude of food carts stationed in this area. You don’t seem to mind, but Taehyung is crushed that he couldn’t provide a romantic setting.

Hence the nonstop complaints sent to Jimin’s way, interrupting the older boy’s peaceful night of League.

Jimin lets out an annoyed yelp when his champion dies in the middle of a team fight because his phone had set off at an unexpected time, causing him to flash and burn all his abilities in the wrong order. There’s curses and swears sent his way from his teammates because his death ultimately leads to an “aced” for the other team, but Jimin still remains cordial when he unlocks his phone to read Taehyung’s crisis, which currently involves the younger boy spilling fish cake soup all over his white dress shirt and now he looks like a mess and he couldn’t possibly propose to you this way.

Propose.

Yes, that’s what Taehyung intended to do on this particular day because he can’t imagine a life without you and can’t wait to set a new milestone in your two’s life together.

But he’s having second thoughts about this, that is until his phone lets out a soft chime, indicating Jimin’s response.

jimin: she’s seen you in your boxers that has holes in it and you think a little stain is bad? man up and get this over with so you can let me climb to plat in peace.

Taehyung locks his phone with a gulp, swallowing down hard as he peers nervously at you who is currently collecting more napkins to dry Taehyung’s shirt.

“Ever the klutz.” You chuckle as you wipe at the wet spots, and Taehyung is panicking so hard that he lets it all slip.

“Marry me.” He squeaks and you pause momentarily in your actions to look up at him, making sure that you heard right.

Did he just propose while you were cleaning his shirt?

“I-I love you so much.” He stammers, “Loved you since I was five, and every day with you I continue to fall in love with you more and more."

Your heart is ramming against the chest at this point, and it only threatens to escape your chest when he drops down on one knee in old fashion.

"So, will you make me the luckiest man, Y/N, and allow me to love you more and more through the years?”

…

Jimin dies again, when his phone excitedly buzzes again, alerting him that he is now a best man and that he probably should just stop playing video games for the night because this is probably the first of many text messages from a very animated Taehyung.

#taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #divnitae

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jasperwoke · 4 years

Text

London Burning

There she was, Madame, suspended above the table. Then two, she became exact doppelgängers, on opposite sides of the room. Each sporting black leather gloves and suede boots on slender pale legs that mimicked their counterparts from across the room. And back on the table, there was Monsieur Adrien, sporting a knife pressed to his neck, and suddenly, he was the one pressing the knife to his assailant. The commanding officer, Antoine, was nowhere to be found, but small glimpses of him flew across the room, on trailed by his thunderous laugh whenever he found something amusing. I, found myself ducked under a table. I was hired as catering staff for the evening, and had lost my appetite for these political disputes.

“Well dah-lin, don’t be shy come on out.”

Before me was the very - volumptuous - woman, who called herself Beatrice. Madame Beatrice. In the political sphere, she simply went by Madame, as there was none other like her. Besides herself. What I mean by that is, only she, can be herself, her own reflection if she had one.

“We gotta get you cleaned up, why, what a mess we made. Awful sorry about the whole lot”

I looked around. She was right, it was a disaster. Plates and tablecloth couldn’t be distinguished, every piece of furniture or furnishings prior this evening, had become scraps not even strays would pick at. And everyone, except them, was dead. Somewhere through the settling chaos in my mind, I realized I was not going to get paid for my service that night.

“Take me with you”

Madame raised her eyes, and looked at her partners. They knew, however, she was the shotcaller, and they couldn’t care for initiations. She shrugged too, as if to say ‘why not’, and extended her hand.

“Welcome to the Crimson Lotus”

The Crimson Lotus was, or still is rather, an independent party. Though they’ve gained immense influence and power in the recent months, they still fall short to be categorized into the official tables. However, everyone knew by now, that they were going to get there. Extremely skilled, and all their members - all three, or four now with me - were shrouded in mystery. However, one thing was for certain: their specialty of misdirection.

The party I was catering, before everyone was so abruptly disposed of, was called the Hounds of London. Their niche laid in sleight of hand. They were notorious for initiating promising thieves from the subways or streets. They rose to power, from a mix of both cheap tricks and in sheer quantity of manpower. No city lacks thieves, and frankly if it did, then politics was not it’s primary concern.

As for me, I was never one for politics. What’s interesting about it, was that with enough merit, anyone could be in charge. The pickpockets on the metro, had they set their mind to it, could fill the same seats that had been passed down for generations in legacy and lineages. I never took much of an interest in magic or illusions. We all know that tricks no matter how impressive, could only be performed in a parlor. But through the many decades of this city, those in charge grew more powerful, like waves crashing into shore. Each new wave would crash a bit higher on shore, having a stronger foundation to build upon. And as a city, we agreed this was a fair governance. Who should be in council, if not the people themselves? Those who butcher at docks, who tend bars on the pier, who relay messages to their higher ups. And those who know how to lead, who can sway masses through just words and glares. There is power in many forms, some in brute strength, some from intellectual prowess. But all power is from merit, and all merit is from power. Power is not given, authority is not a birthright. It is earned, it is seized. That is how a good council is run.

“I think, before we make any more decisions, we should teach you some tricks” said the Madame. I was always one for mathematics. The catering held me over as I finished my schooling. It is a beautiful world, mathematics. All rules can be bent, even toppled inward, and still not break. Rules could be written on the whim, or ignored altogether. It was a much more preferable world for me. One without interpersonal relationships, political tensions.

“But first, allow us to introduce ourselves. I am the Madame, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. And from the last political debate, you see what I do yes? From across the room, I can throw mirror projections. Which one is me? Ha, even I don’t know sometimes”

“You can call me Adrien” a gruffer voice spoke. The man was quite tall and slender, with a salt and pepper beard peeking from his neck. “I am able to, I switch places.” And he left it at that

Finally, the one who eluded sight, spoke. “Antoine. I’m a ventriloquist by trade. But do reconnaissance.” I suppose him too wasn’t one for much words.

“I’m Byre. I study mathematics.”

“Ah, then you have come to the perfect place”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I soon learned the world of magic was not so different from mathematics. All rules, could be made up. In maths, we construct dimensions with base units to whatever we desire them to be. In magic, it is more of a deconstruction. Of breaking an already set dimensions, into what units make it up. We all view the world differently. Some view it through waves of light and sound. Others view it passionately, through emotions and feelings. I saw the world as a construct of numbers. Quantities of forces, always colliding and separating, never finding an equilibrium where both sides are content.

And so in the coming days, Antoine took me under his wing. He did have a body, but was actually quite introverted, hence his constant shadowing of his actual self. He was not unattractive. Ruffled dirty blond hair, no matter how hard the wind blew, and dark brown eyes that would remind me of wet sand at the beach, perhaps the ruins of a castle that collapsed into its moat. Adrien was a very kind person, and it was clear fighting was not in his nature, he left that for the other two. Often he would stand in the enemy’s numbers, projecting his voice so that they would look elsewhere and he would follow, misdirecting them.

He took me in because we thought similarly, atleast according to the Madame. He would always first listen to the acoustics of a setting. How his voice travelled, and where it would end up. Perhaps we were similar, in that we felt the need to calculate, in order to be certain. But in an open environment, where we were exposed, and the rules were not ours for making, we felt uncomfortable.

I did pick up a few tricks. Very much attributed to Adrien. At the end of my practicing, I could, to an extent, project an image of a small rabbit. I say much thanks to Adrien as he inspired much of the idea. Light waves, like sound waves, can bounce. They can be pulled and distorted. They are but little particles that hit your eye and you believe you see something. So with a small ray off a table, a glimmer off the chandelier. With these pieces, I could stitch and sew together a hologram, in a place that, should have housed nothing but empty space. But they are just soft holograms, unlike Madame’s doppelgängers. If one were to see the image of their beloved pet, and go to hug, I would only be rewarded with a sudden realization that, I too, am just a cheap charlatan, playing off blind spots of the mind.

When Antoine and the Madame both thought it was satisfactory, we began to plot the next movement. There were only two parties left: the rats, and the snakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rats and snakes have been at each other since the founding of London. Naturally, they are nemesis. And so, they always have pitted against each other. In a single battle, any member of the rat party would suffer defeat from the snakes. But still, like in nature, no matter how many snakes in a field, there will always be mice to feast on the crops.

The snakes were known for their battle prowess. In the same way how real snakes shed, those part of the party could always barely slither away, when absolutely necessary, leaving a shell of their old selves behind, when their captors finally found them. But with daggers as sharp as fangs, tipped in poison, they could coil and strike with fluidity no one else could hope to match. To onlookers, it may seem they are simply very skilled in martial arts. There is no magic. But in that, there is something more than physical training. To mirror your opponents and see through every one of them. Know where they are weak, and to know what you must do to take advantage of their ignorance. No different than making a coin disappear from a magicians hand. Their power does not come from their own abilities, rather, exposing their enemy’s weaknesses.

The rats, have always been the most elusive. Never one to combat face to face, they strike in groups, and always guard each other’s back. Though weak in offense, their numbers more than cover their defenses. A snake may circle around a rat, only to find their is another one behind, keeping watch. And perhaps another one on the side, flanking and observing for all of them. And when absolutely cornered, they will sacrifice themselves, in hopes the others may escape, and live on. That is how the rats are. A single straw can snap in a breeze, but a bushel is almost impossible to cut. Almost impossible.

And their abilities come into how they protect themselves. They must hear, see, smell, their enemies, before their opponents even get the chance. A snake, no matter how careful, is bound to snap a twig. And in that one small action, will capsize their whole attack. Because these small mice, will already be fields away. Grazing on another plane.

It is not hard to see why, that historically, the snakes have appealed to the bourgeoisie. The ones in power, who prey on the weak. And the mice are the laborers. Though many in number, they lack the power to overthrow their predicament. Always, it has been a battle between snakes and mice. London was no different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We chose to overthrow the snakes first. If we succeeded against the rats, but failed against the snakes, then all of London was doomed to serve. We are, after all, not animals, and have compassion for those who work in factories and fields, laboring to feed the entire city.

The party was strong, I can not lie. But what is a snake to do against opponents that are, or were, never there? They would slit open the neck of Madame only to find the other was the real one. And when they cornered that target, they found once again, her clone across the room. Well and alive and putting up an immense fight. When scents and sights deceive a snake, they simply can not win. As for me, with my abilities, I am quite proud of this as it was also my first battle. On a very large fire pit, I made it seem as though there were no flames. The beauty of heat is, it is just a weaker form of light. And with ten, no, twenty heads on my tail, they all fell in. Scathed and burnt until they stopped thrashing.

And then we turned our objectives onto the rat party. Only a few nights after overthrowing the ones in power, the city was in shock. The factories served no one anymore. There were no oppressors. And when headlines finally made sense of who was behind the coup, it was too late. We had already began our onset onto the plebeians.

These poor fellow mice. Their sight is strong, their hearing is powerful. When you lie to these senses, they are but timid vermin with no place to escape. We made sure of that, much thanks to Adrien. I conjured about an image of their leader, Adrien breathed into her a voice. Even the rats have a queen. And he commanded their army into disarray. Each scrambling into a nest that was not their, but actually a trap set by us. And one by one, the little creatures, with sights blinded and whiskers dulled, could only hope to escape as they heard our footsteps draw near their holes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And we, the Crimson Lotus, were put into power. There was no official paperwork, as there was no magistrate. Politics was something the people learnt through word of mouth or periodical headlines. And as I walk through the streets, trailing Madame or Adrien or Antoine, I could not help but notice no one knew who we were. Our bread was still a quid. Our wine was still ten pounds. It seemed as though, our arduous climb offered no rewards.

And Adrien, one for few words, spoke. “You, the mathematician, should know this the best. We can now dictate the rules. We can bend London to our will, reinvent it from the ground up, or run it as it always has been. My esteemed colleague Byre, what more would you hope for? We have the whole city to play with.” The others grinned, and I could not help myself from letting loose a sly smile too. The closest term, for us, may perhaps be anarchists. To rule, with no rules.

And it has been many summers since our victory. London has not been merrier, and we still have not been more recognized on the streets. We will gather for cheese and crackers every Thursday, recalling new books we’ve read, or visits from family abroad. But still, the headlines scramble to try and capture who was behind the scenes, pulling the strings. Perhaps the old leader for the Hounds. Or the Queen of rats, now living a calm life as a house wife. For two beautiful children no less, as we’ve visited. Tensions aside, we are not animals, we are humans, and condolences and reparations are paid where due.

But I’ve learnt that, by observing the people, they may never know who I really am. This whole political debacle, is all smoke and mirrors anyway. Perhaps one day we’ll be overthrown, and no one will know who’s pulling the strings. A magician, never reveals their tricks.

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