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vulturesgalaxy · 7 years

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It’s all a Fairy Tale

Two things before I start the story. One, this is only my second fanfiction, first one that includes someone else’s oc, and two I want to thank @wildcrisis for writing her fanfiction Lofty Aspirations, without that fic none of this would exist, and i would like to thank @omg-areyoukiddingme for letting me use their oc (whom I not sure I gave much justice but I tried). On to the story.

Some tales say the if you travel far enough through the forest to the west you’ll find the God of the Wild. Somewhere, where his temple is said to sit in a large gnarled tree, where feral animals run about in a sort of controlled chaos, where the trees are scorched and ground littered with bones of fallen trespassers. Leave a golden trinket if you wish to be spared, not for him but the blue beast that lurks.

This ruler, this king, this god among all is not to be feared but not to be toyed with. Nothing but a man, a teen, a child outcasted for being a beast that prowls. A beast from birth, with claws and fangs of an animal, an animal that strikes fear into anyone that encounters him. He was shunned and forced to leave the village. Abandoned and alone he set forth to prove himself to those who chose not to believe that blood doesn’t determine who you really are.

Now he sits on a wooden throne. Where animals lurk and a dragon roams. Protecting and finally understood, but never going back to an old life, one that’s far behind. Some tales say the forest to the west lay decorated with trinkets and baubles hung from trees to show gratitude, but others say it's a dark and desolate place, where the wild ones roam.

There’s another tale from the north, a place where there nothing but scenery. Where mountains and the sky meet like lovers, where wind stokes grass with a gentle cress, where the Queen of the River forever sobs in her mangrove castle. The tide of her river rises and falls on a whim, eating away at the land, cutting through the grass and leaving her mark. Some days the river weeps other days it wails, changing with a slight shift of emotion from the Queen.

No one knows why the Queen of the River cries. Some say it’s because she’s lonely, no one dare live there for fear of the ever changing water levels. Others say she cries for all those who can’t, for the one who put on a brave face and refuse to let grief stop them. But no matter what tale you choose to listen to the Queen of the river is always loved.

She is a muse to many and repaid graciously, with fine colorful silks left near the river bank, with the joyous laughter of children who play and swim in her waters, with the dancers who tip toe at the edge of the bank, with songs that quell the babble, and art that captures her simple beauty. Some tales say the river to the north is home to a morning queen, others say she shed tears of joy for life couldn’t be better than it already was.

Our final tale comes from the east, where silver is mined and everything is pleasant, where brawn rules over brains and the flashier the better. Where people are praised for their natural gifts of strength and mystical abilities, where there’s a twisted sort of structure that outcast those who refuse to follow and fit in. No one knows this more than the Prince of Tales.

A weaver of lies or truths one can not tell, for you follow every word that fall from those lips. Some tales say he’s a monster, a physical embodiment of evil impulse and intention. While others stand at his side, ever at the ready. Everyday is a struggle, when people whisper behind his back, twisting his past deeds and spewing fallacies so that no one was none the wiser of his false true nature.

He struggles and strives, throwing off the chains they placed on him, shaking off the hateful and hurtful words adding them to his fire to prove those who chose not to believe him wrong. Some tales speak of a kingdom of silver where a weaver, weave tales that you can’t help but follow, shrouded in mysteries and not to be trusted. Others tell the tale of a prince robbed of his place on the throne like so many before but not willing to back down.

These three tales are now interwoven, as a young man wades through a river that passes through a dark forest. The God and Prince are no longer feared accepted for what that have and what they are and the Queen is no longer lonely with company at her side. Together they will remain until other matters pull them away.

“Malcolm that was amazing!” It was Ikeko who broke him from his post story trance, dabbing at her face with a tissue trying to stanch the flow of oncoming tears.

“You really think so, I haven’t done something like that since I left america?” Malcolm let out a small laugh. They were suppose to be studying for the next test not listening to the tales he made up about them, when Ikeko pointed out the shelf of tiaras.

“Is that how you see us?” It was Hitoshi who spoke up now, the eraser end of his pencil tapping against his notes.

Malcolm ducked his head an embarrassed blush marrying his cheeks, as he fiddled with the hem of his sweater.

“I mean yeah. I always think of fantasy version of the people around me. It comes from having to make up our own games from when I was little. Is that weird?” He looked to both his friends for reassurance.

“No I think it’s cool, you made all of that up on the spot.” Ikeko again was the first to speak, the tear flow coming back with revenge at her excitement.

“I don’t want to tell you to stop pursuing your dream of becoming a hero but you would make a great author.”

He could only chuckle at Hitoshi’s words. He had thought about dropping his dream of becoming hero, it would be easier for someone with a quirk like his own to get but if he didn’t have to readily rely on it, or have it flare up at the most inopportune moments.

But then there people like his friends back in America and Hitoshi who all struggle to become heroes, they didn’t have it easy and they power through like tanks.

“Maybe I’ll do it as a side thing. It’s always fun to write what you see. Anyway before er get anymore sidetracked let's get back to work.”

#zee writes #fanfiction #oc #Malcolm Lane #shinsou hitoshi #Arashikai Ikeko

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