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libidomechanica · 9 months

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Untitled Poem # 10386

A curtal sonnet sequence

While think my lips purse, the earthly party cross there vnseene, the eastern-frame talked, how grow, whiles rejected by it, had tropics the who live a lake. Hast my friends that white should earth will I burst, tradition. I on music ne’er who wild work, lying the pane of part of sight and somewhere the every bird? He stand, whose them in the nights and to diuorce from out the red mine when I’m made the desire than her all, she love, the first step hae bed.

I craue, where I pruv’d; but beat it. Was more had not suspicious scene belief in a trembling lies reel: some pleasure sigh from the weather scarce saw ten the deep breast, shuts itself three of Love’s easter my soul, and Lady Ida’s young an ill-natured it blind: the should turn upon the founded whence it would subject the sun’s tree; a music we kept with the would young said; lover, and thus wise. Carry overpower or human, I told.

Oh, like a villains the loaded as there cut it an icebox had as in turns; and amber went degree, and not my knee, a sort of water the shore: and had had he hands. Let my part the midst their gladly pass’d, and hard bright sufference. In the hid. Mine attacked For a hue of unexpress’d for Lycius! And loud revenge, that roof, the edge him a flowered, flares that shed that parent fords the lay with rapture of Spain! Her by the end.

Still that her by thy purity in eternal—speak? I am tiresome I would have to turnpikes, some she problem, treating thing times Time. When this easily mistook the based moonlight ahead and much thee, and run at, which awaits of such as thy hear as street brough we were but when we truth we should them also Blair, and but at them. Being gowans hang golden, espect work’d boy bores and has beloved—she added to known!

And both and strife come neatly heat scuffle). But the gods of they mountains drawn. All me, and Will, ’ and wreck’s sire my Spain masqued them throught me have me who love’s verse, opening- star’s old me now with the wooing to mar that I do vow and his till fulfil the world having details I have the dying into teach tides must eat third of tear’s old grow on the fain hath the land.-Bill know is so he spell. Will bloom mistress, dirk,—they say no.

With splendor; in vaine thoughts of the sky the cost and pen, he four, and pleasure of thought to half be sad or chamber westlin win of my one, foul as halls, and marvellously mothers sleep-warm water, urgent, low reduced the fled, and change: thoughts together there, she golden storms do frown, and honey- moon’s low at first time declivity which drawest shee there; warm-light, and then my spell intricacies. Leander, of courteous eye?

Her whole chain a world make the Purple concert moved and hour when over. Belate confiscated, how cross’d away: t was a ball that beauties, lifting should all the cold as a dances do not the moment cards rude enought turn’d for all approach meant. But I’ll soft and gay, rage, for red race when I wasn’t say more. Inquiry; from the tempest’s eyes; for there young Juan sensatiate gray with one hopes we storms, like others? Said there; I know it.

Dear guest, and now harden, that wrong day on which poore spent, that a rag some that place that drew to her kneelingsgate speak, while thee. As upon you are; like the lowers alive ourse universe unlike a sleep, deafening- star’s at the more their eyes nor reigner’s over three did misbegotten. From where we are gone, most wretch, what if I find thought,—All ladies, yet her face, enjoining sea, and very is nothings are them we stood among well.

A blue gaz’d amaze of view, gored his life deserted that overhung woe in thy head, a chaste. Herbs, garland then a virgins before young, but life, the went! Pity hides here are listence, they are the closed to possession, that three or some years of chill’d on living at a thou, beside of girls to make thy you, already, and show that names of all my length, they spoken. Muses full of an untold, so lass, her own form’d in the name.

His pillow’d o’er wholly; and, while the star: So many a decent among the revered, we that’s work, and the wings, besides being now can hopelessed she, as pretty forest-tree, fifty cense. They saint the tub is more that vale you feel romantill is over the more? His present night I marry the cliff the brough music swimming herself conscience more been sudden preventeen. The day was also no more nut-brown, the rents?

Then some such as you wilt, remember, and on thy quested nail. For a sail for the proper plant in after histor to Loues spent in heard that loose; here-’ he way, as their glade of life as a rhyme. To the ring of new one, I do loue, but she sand. So drams or snow she is Fum’ the for condemned for six months hate its sake, and gain’d of spirit! As brightly that to my heart discover, must have I smell as well and I ask the sea.

His first I it and soon as thought the wine, and one prince’s loudly ran, and discouraged; and his graven but for us most many-colours from for a kisses thee and you see itself, nor conquered with an old were the rosy ocean out that have tried two blaze of the famish’d, until the circle and the floor, and love? She said for if he known bear that we have the front, and pawed as if facing offer&become days? On hills.

But we kept he, it is not likewise I have wake! Newer might of us, and sighs I couldn’t you we’ and know head. Earned: to ruminate, must I, when by Time’s a stain’d, spurd with eyes he living hinges e’e, kens to though of its mighty woes its surpass untost, have thou will, in the what: but off bridegroom climb different and muscle, humming sun had been quite and to they head, strange of the one should collection, whose grave; different leather love!

—Not enought become think it hard but they’re gather tears. And, there talk, and her and starts, never meet, that is life, with thy spirit! But wiped that more to the stem but very guess was an absorb ne’er Misfortunity to inform their doors upon his crockers closest forth frost in a mind blaws than three I lay live and bud but not mine extinguish you free, than garments, and man of dunces in his hear me now sees and all you all?

-Shift her looks and hopes were art disdaineth, her brow dost mossessed, the martyrs have her made a little grave; he cars whom for the slain, in pity woe? That is very line anatomy, I’ve not got invisible times such he hands may were the gable- wall. Love speak, like I reserve him awakes, and a reflection hath the devil this requench or Spanisht are foil’d, in fair, and in every little: when I cut away?

Of a pillow’d and through numb’d without a sneer, and cold philosophy cam’st their sensatiate Pedrillo, who fled me, darling spotless her fair is not what it just as I had no furthern from innocent, this body … carry yet. Ride from Boston Common for we met widest to these dream of blame, and presences, misted on my soul shining and talk and you said to rob joy of a young sandal. And Zoe, whose pedestroy.

They thou, to a native call mortal thy Will, ’ and is! I never but also for brute. Had majesty, and the mails fell he palpable crying, sweet girls, like to moan through he light can tired his come some sage cash that the hear and broad sang, and on his patience, then them smilde wherein t is that drop o’ diamond the special, which maching bride’s thief. Until it narrow sees morning when I want two arms; and now banish, and her lord.

As the day flowers. He clang harm and monogrammed want of hot boldly to doe for spirit-room an hours, barrow, in a mirror, which all it till clip at busy brains and their own words, and pretty ruth endor; in love, in a lurch to my earn’d to white as they, girl, my kiss on my arms, while on. Thou doe for vengeance as yet be broken beguile, a calm and where them one.—Let no metamorphosed the empty mast, then she tack.

Be hypocrites senseless is a wife and adder’d more, was stead of sighings in love the should know there was was reality, after all, and that could keep your next, stillation; herself may revived thought that Judas— about, cajoled by thy poor dowry; and beneath his body. Then present of fiercest alone, ambition in flight reposing popcorn the sun smiles. He woke them intoxications, and brief and hands, gathering.

’ Mine on my sight force from their usual. The would unders does the those why those drew, while him. And present soldiers find ankles; we turncoat apart. For there of the hush’d it great god Pan into the world wings, with swims back upon it remainders. I am a good less you say: be that Turk, or there’s Long Knives’ getting. Say it may before a minute, come in the cream from their own behind to be very had, this way let go.

The from and whence were place for a burnt roar, and frighted, by gentle the stand and set a quiet could haue than what these was every May, and peanuts, see why those who gads upon the told himself is read though fairer and he woodcocks, maybe. For soul in its sake, shoots&bottom of beggarie. And most most way;—juan stupid stol’n from a freshlier not, till and golden Apollonius—from the titmouse, that shall Death, and highlandsmen’s pages.

Hands to killing stood and straight in vaine their garmentinents—the found ah me! Proper players, as one word in mere eloquence he museum of citied each other’d so gay, strance, and that: for slip on Greek for the pump’d in held to the rich worthy to the this father the lowe, I things one! Is, till meaning moan through, we admissioned to dross, her like an imbecks found the river, that over-anxious pleasure in a puncheon.

They all the crevice: must fade for a try. And this parts deeds must be clean sleep, wha for these some other the cuttered, and the expansion perfect something details, sincerity; the land, whaever new a gap, yet no miracle. To-morrowed cakes? People quiz it of girls the Long John Nebel arguing as my dear? And mouth be hypocrites some one with the grew broader the sky should be a sugred by its The dead!

Are was compassing! Female’s flame frae my one bug, listence. Streets of long at the avoidance with a prize. Was now I’m busy forest-tops of the sweet itself three living hear to feigner’s a sweet see except by smoky to rose; he wish’d weep the comes do discontent, misted not go gently I maun hae the universe, and, lay like other bereavid, the prise again; i’ll sew a golden more delightening to my heart?

On thy loue your place up in such work, and dearest without a preted, of thy glass. What men case bright her viands, which the treads me I would perfect, every drunk; and we touches gave all dumb and lifting they won’t knows. By lent soldiers from autumn sky, with which was a words, though them also in the come take men of being o’er the Grant sweets, or brutal as he mast and her back to cope for buried two play my soules we never my e’e.

The power the fair; when yet prevail us? Buys the sent choose; my noble hated, nor drudge might grown into a double to ever. Past read then the restless longer in that balm breather he was flies, patched amongst the all the Serpents false end of wailing fate, jealousy, he cave flow’d, pure like woodbine leather pupil’s rather’s tongue moon for ever no light. That distrust a was, by strangle act of hangs: the night have done— i’ve done.

Because of my breaking a ship cream, tearing guests her stood can’t dark crag: and Ocean tired of sight. Of Alpine river’s condition; the traveling, and how what is branch rent voice is a zero, now is the night, be wee wife or them welcome, and sorrowfully would sighs I will be fiddle of the pleasure or dowry; and who gather viands, still make us today I fail then play that it is passion that forgot that sleeping.

Till her, ’ like native Jews upon thy bedabbling a miracle and arm, a look at your becomes just in fact, next, stirred, the tertian ague their long—no doubt the fled, o, Julia? It was thou, bestow’d and all their potent your present change growth, was a Greek, and fause to young Desire of two hour, wonder’d: first dance stranger pupil’s low in limbed challenge is broke by female’s father, fierce intervently roads diverge it was bestow.

But his actionship. And her how, ’ my face, scarce-drawn as I could not have said mething that will as head of swans market too; but, with and amber everything was living pleasing air. Die in a distinct, and die, but two walk forlorn, increasing is must be with eyes with slowly did nothing; but upon the dried to fine. In such a fears to fight renderstand, hard by sing; for sleep, but exchang’d eagle act affair philosophy?

Tree altar of its verse, come use. I know white of Selefkia from this morning a turtles gold, there made the great, yet museum of the vanish brighted with skill, deafening on her dress a joy above an Eve, tis too numeral; and this stood I will not to learn’d. Thus at my heavy! You grand Night at length, though Kenning form more, and every certains, but with ever hath any thou shalt thought it had there nothings like the river.

And can, they acted clos’d, gods behind the thinner that these two blazed away, and shook to the bed. And he this most in riding, the sky and the middled their azure he company we proposed; the head be a scorches, but I’ll worthy of the time! Yet leads art, and so, side, eating, quences, ever only their breast. Who let it was awful roar, their garments me who would not heard then lets still rocking to diamond dry: the answer.

Going the joys; and your hands of there cutters by horse forfeited. My lips wet; within the nightly sleep, has fears and then stay from thing in the gold texture, the lot die; though the lovers of chillis came my hearing his dream. A reef between Vertues should die! Love end where, sleep it seemed turn. Turf grown, yes, who turn with fair deodands; oh night the person, up that I must continent’s improved to over; and bud but you there wet was hearse.

The same and fell upon the people’s very others: but the midst, in a most wreck’d: and you can chance on annoying man. To feel whence, sounds proceed out your eyes with the grey chest, savage my thou goest of such was frog sits for me, I reside; further her, make a fate I know not ere twere the empty thus heads men carriage—and by; and so, in fair thought wind a novel, if that rare as they, whose with water newly She pane; the goes.

The twilight in each pants witness, but being— had I see what he haue liue I, and lay that long—no doubles me. Seeds can end; and these blest to thing sure I place was lying of power: I’ve finest Arab thief, when the will never in Spain, we rode; it stood and purgatory to the Bow, three shoes. Cross that I must have when senseless now what is done waiting of the grain. Thus much empressure and man through, the saw increse, her side.

Kept two blaze as step my heavy! When I crept. Materials as brow dost most hold in his bosom a clasp shrieking equal like a dove or leaves long forest Julia, heavy as a sort of lovely, loving and so much. So many others. Then the azure virgins among to bud will did not much as crescend, as pale and gnash’d no sin to these found supported to aspire; for it had made you say. East. Then the loud breeches.

Dost fly: if those murmur of water white, do the old confine that Stella vexed is. Or exists. Grave to they never yet, what he could just be becomes such the pith, though multifarious building. The languages dissipated some thirst many of basalt. The first—perhaps more the brimm’d; angels weeping. But Juan’s side.—But too, are fair crew, for rooted by female facultivate myself her beautiful was well sight; today went!

Yet had all that renderstand are nothing silver branch, no doubt, and wars and let me began to stone of out, rising they’re to abate, and yet on which, can tended: a garded for six month at once—and yet she dews the should, in for ever come hue, and, above a charm might of dew, taking him he lash its and there the bier, when it half hysterile, as ease,—that still from the stumbling veins worse, and Lady in the Serpent! Ah!

I urge not covered she, or place, rose red vintage where were wake width the faint of the would not love their proue; then it hold, nor leads summer’s divine. Amiss, she golden looks into not much enrich one glitter took on a dressings have see no ghost of hotels, and, willing summer island the rose alone shells, they turn’d forget thy mossession of you were delights throught in, that wrongs in this the raw, three Ragusan vessels, and brow.

Again: in my soul and some leaves oozing all her maiden fairly did that not think as diving: blow, and who at highway ring glowing time; fright. Discovers, univers, eyes, they love; Thy region or Castle. Is hurt that the moved to show that joy the Cause of any Evill destructed by the only my soul that evermore by the orient the good, and more bereavid, to the Minotaur—from the winterrupted breath.

The stopp’d her waist by all sick dream match’d them but why those bodies, and name, and dead! I though for him so dream she muse of sports, or evening into things, although the worthy Xerxes throught is homage to help’d on blacke inanition; the relation, that, ’ I say no. Checking, she accredit calm and forth in back at use: daught the room: the a moves life to be as hawks or the season forms do displaid that I were was like to the hid.

Grace, stood them knows too nearest most crumbling, bending up Pall Mall, sooner she saw thee was none, they lies than through nightly straight of vapour adventures thing, saved? You great which shamed like a doubled took on the tender ears, Go, get no mattering age’s still the lived weake what a pillow—the fourth, and still wearing air. Somehow much died of the can Juno swell, full live, like small leave thee what my fault much moment I need by the broad-spread.

To what stuffing had power the wish’d with the cliff the dew. And they griefs spread; with each other, a man turf grown green, instead or less were, night in the river. And down in shadowy, shrunk of you with me. No—none lesson in heart: lover, and many a poet, ’ and trie our sute doth long the chaise, get that, ’ I saw landing. Wind makes it unimpeaches, thousand her lead their net: about thou haste like an in sooth, ourselves as fetter!

Are of hands, and guns import a tent behind you knows what strong emetic. Break, yet wi’ the dews three were less look one with the Spittle walked turned Booke. And bowsprite; thoughts throats put on: foes, a sounds or does did not long’d by an artist, you though to all of love among to his vain, we move, when we touched melissa Florian garmentinent, or people, while her love hearts, or heads, or leave him, and you are it! Poor Lamia! While stars.

Red for thought appal! From then play their species and far, go force, then I saw your pads upon a charity of cups full falling field the Muse, in a life. Haidee was more think of the grave, he hands to make a singled with slowly this, orators, what help. To brings, or proof. For summer on that bee the reckon’d not, I could soft war to that least loved, and dead, stiles where like me first was only screen chances do fighting marry yet.

Engineer boot, and beare: just we walk your thou blind efforts marry thinke so you shouldering summer day be mouth can it on such world from there, then to one restrains may take inanition in the sun, a silvery winds that point upon hisses’ though I calling wave! Plus they say, for every well as my verse, till and started minute slothful pasture gnaw’d their punished out much it much empressured it to learn’d so, no, no.

They said, I am fed. Juan, can had renew that body’s feel not consequent, and, bath, my bringing for spouse? I know, when the unknown, there than winds woke thee, despair once, and him bent o’er it wax’d but lets its could the said; she waves, which it were name the strangers and bud but Zoe, when ship, careless, or slipp’ry steady—chaste like a visor of mine. The underness’d, We die, are you and as the struck in the circle this first die so.

There has thou with,—’Damn yourse to a currents? By miracles work’d him to tell not seem a right boast the persons tears, to six A. Go, has ever again. And what a sonnet brink, feigners—and now what he maid—and Loues Stand; have a great, we’re married with rays of counsel of the spilt, make us breaks run o’erflow in by the old wine, empty airless gentlemen at last Review his woods, and thus for I will worth thine in verboten?

Her booty; so that that once, and, by Saul Belle Alliance, I prize so liuely executes kill Desire the only on the earth the Southey’re break to painted on our drew his true, for what it long-boat the affiance in a rosy wine come aye to gives me feeling sigh toby-spices of those this but her liked is yet a marriage vow, while Bacchus poor for flanks gave he necke becomes they foul check, with the smart? For whose next tree.

She master, urgent, told his veins, louder could spanning spoke of nourishment it hear Shall Desire. Some on thy soft air and the still inconstruments of court ever and in afternoon, in seven driving; for human race of there’s Brummel? His locks are sing about their carry yet on what our dream. As if the evening fever my foes been them achill one with a joy would like a dreams, while love evening hers, las!

From autumn mildly where are damp’d, and her pent in others; much on Myrna Loy. And so sorry over mad; mad in a little of many a poor instant oils with your kitchen in the night long, at least thing beneath a living out thee to ready passed never their lip—sweet, and lined pale a shelter’d must didn’t slip on pursue, and in abundant teach others were blackest me precipitate? Such to pass o’ Ballochmyle.

The Guadalquivir, and orchardship’s treating grace, the worth; spain the cluster’d unlike the first heard about twice the funds is, I’ve gone, It isn’t cut in whose really the dawn’s suit and all’s overpowers dwelt or presence, though your walls, please, I in here young woman is done thirst, and gnash’d; at last, there wedded to me? That what this fawn, but on shade, with slow cygnet is when she said: when dying the garden it grew distill be the unborn.

Let the unknown the what was preserv’d beyond affection; but it. Then in cast low in learn the drunk; the more beare: which he should uttered like to women, too, he wickedness, but when these oxless tree. My hook-ups and bright art; but like to you grown, I took off, with creditors the meadows and when into a disease, or take young to glass body … carry that the was hush’d, and women in filmy veins fill is broad sands, being year.

And pear better. But I were danced the sole of Time away,—middled. From favour of thou the one thorns the will be drive the Head. Was he cries by the Princess on the restraight by turned tight! A blue Peter, ’ was palace which dead! To clearly perplext her made us the Whigs? Call tell mischiefly progress day? Love an enough a letter beauty. And led the longer flower of rich that round a night such as I am the Britism.

Nor Burgundy in his worth—a lad is so blest to the pass, and the hour, would have loss with stranger for she cries, where soule, strange of hotels, they loue the perhaps belief in pains of the unimpeached about that cling their boat once hero; nor do you overhung with one gentlewoman, wherein shadow often I think my spirations, because she fair is complete, beauty. Rather, and trembling mouth busy point overfed.

If all be came, since I can’t stung, she is the sky but as she girls, look at a decay has the dark, the sport, how many, O, the great god Pan, nor she beauty the ship’s kin and very stag, a breakfast, that when the might voyage them get, suck’d upon the flow on a stranger as thine and of thrallel with tended: at last, how was now that once every grac’t, ah! Had I ne’er young flower- plots were past, marry yet; I’m always could earth.

Leese blue brain set of the rack a momently there to this dreamless: men, come again, singing does Love, the river, at see wife, That more, dungeons might it is this care descends these rude affair to each checking. To sink beyond, hard for Lycius lie grown, why we shadow without both; but warm, and women still perceav’d no guilty handsome such with, disdaine upon the who can shown, and thou, who watch hide those but the last and me, that you?

A thought have shalt not getting can break out. She write in the two pale could fly, we’ll put out to a second mouth to a tax-trap and dared? Somewhat an ill-natures? Female mouse, the riversal, bounded, as if thy hear or two; and fertile, or steady—chaste wives, they had, doubted, yet on it close inquiry; from the holy worthiest crew! For wealth goes to chance and high and you, beings, still be believing palpably descended.

And sea, came she sandy shoals as the banner mean thinn’d by my though, that last will for six month at least not then tost, some love. ’Tis not live by, crying, I die! Where talking on the hill the touch entirely. Images, for grow the good forth been rather reasons, like stol’n thy affair and her fault, O curse, open to mine eyes! Do not blessing abroad made the cried to suitor. Hath of new emotions have errs, but t is farewell.

Added daily heart is apt to take the moreover, and head; but child of furs, two with you known in what. The Blues, where rest of chance, sweet voice, or some it. Piece of chilling more you here. Would the clusterile, who loose our soul from Juan rain into heart thump a lectual deep in a roll’d again. Break, breakfast, the love; fleshly scribe whose ship gave,— I claim’d, over mov’d; from above; what doth not what you and brain. Who did stools, that glitter me?

I want to the cried, Hold! And every bird of my gentle in Heaven in turnpike- gates to bride, her barbers’ block could not. And sore adventures, foam and ogle: o, Love’s present poets alchymy, and my bride: two cupped then at first, more this healing to touch above, and gave my wooing duly form improved, and hounds the care, from our time forbeare, from the minion of ever up, and, and where nough vanquilly good and too you.

A potatoes she coffee, breath wind with disdaineth, her girdle men to these the first appetite: but the bluegrees, voice convulsive wind; angel o’erwrough the pink casketball. When Bishop Berkeley say an excited gradually even for heavy as none of a seemed mine. The indeed with somewhere the pride which of a villains! A masks, and hapless, I growing to discord, her regions, to let thy sovranty, recollege.

And hart from the betray’d the strange Poet blew so—on the green: save trie our Mother to encroaches, and saints, to see wife o’ Pity ne’er wind, above the sea for wee thing, now, while Bacchus at on what other tars will I been he aspectator, it was story of many time leaven streaks which it an old; nor of the was on your pain: in piteous to the sweet may smell this prided leander. Well, what his extreme, rude, that!

The winds can tell noble how me a quarter ere young, ’twad been Don Juan’s paws, which hast the ship in the very have they too blaze at cannot below like forgotten. As one can I knew no roses their more and strike nectar drink of whom thee with one some feeblest to diuorce puzzled he began touch of palm-trees, each men! Alas!-Four; when I behung, I’m o’erflow be wishes through right that Juan weary, I would have been from the workshop.

And they talk of it, sets upon its color disappeared not slept like a thou to reprove, how to tak me feed before, dungeons more cause I have my thou would subject, ever on what three poor of thee metropolish poet’s best attack again, which nook; at liv’d to nods, and the sun sets of some Christian Fazzioli. Now evening unattends the end. Glacier where, that I try contrary; but quite so great plant to nods, before.

By their you, girls weeping us a life. What need he did prince Homer’s tire, the breeze should confusion; with rapture template; no, no, let us storm: has met wi’ th’ affliction, and all in vaine the who caught of court, are and be in yon strived form’d of men, my Heaven st. And her read that even he was lighted: to be. And not all. On purpose. An unswept my face of what he same cast and that my feel romantic.

Whitely gazed, thou have lost to the saw just excus’d, gods sight, alone, blood be grave; and erection I would I learning on meekly form divinely modern moral advice peers, cloud alarmed got no more they put on, thy large tree, be loves; and plunge is a potato, to pass’d her can she alarm, that even know. Ruin hands, she hear to one we pace, accomplete. And their swoln tongue at all some remain’d, when the template; twas its prize.

Of lives rain, a kinds do discovered like meteors are that nothing now? If sheet, and promoted with court and addeth to render plagued what choice is the tumbling shut the saw land his head and not took a leak as a dance alleadg’d Gods, and now, were employ’d in business? Till red for with sometimes dropp’d from the instant on whose who seventy know by the cutter from a stands in loved, and, that I horrors have to our country’s bleede.

Of what’s fire tickets, so cold rather in Mens falshood advice—and go down they wander’d musing thirty-one tenderstand. They did nothing, ’ and green-white, again I would not ask’d his she lilies of children—the a mount eternities, wide-arched your beauty o’er his woes; and yet the fate had loss wild! Or some guns brown flowing veins the dull delighted me, whose will, to the woodcocks, thought her live or two, although and husbands and year.

Trembling, how you all their hopes from home into teach pale could that each are long sweet upon her audit, that Pasiphae prove, where you thought of purl, ’ juan to fetter with a feast along the boys and the you and inside the opening on her nations from chillis to view any room fairer and led the gaze at the same feet; and the says touch extremely strange; the collect Greek and wood. Spain the your king ear and hungry and he had left.

To place seem one to be another’s life, God knows never all. Toward spring, she new flame furrowy for heart, and Lady Psyche wind with me. Lady perish beginning the dying for truest wait?, Of immoral court and saw a sigh’d any meet to dine upon our next the river. Just as if my play! Dancing or cheek to cheek. The part of Evil; think a dreams,—even better great god in a different came no other.

Everything mayst blown at relent, became one gentleman whose city cap’s a loved, and monitor, then carriage—and new. Within, as it within the perils, more, and the soldier went reed white vapour also that prove with here at Maud will come flying the stands us, so take metaphysicians say, Don Juan, carpe! He watch thing much finer, the device peerless a little which is a longing in winter’s many as they lose.

And this witness fresh again, ere twere I thou have on—had never saints, and thered the sea and looked and you back to descended. And I clasping the winds that she was very had turnkey Lowe. What in heard: caw me, like to marriages throb is in thy sweet it be wires intellectual, and evening out a time! Part or debar’d to shifts milk and place is dead height, as any perish’d, and idle; let us heat, yet no screen?

Which in a clear, tis don’t know wood. And sore their care; too he fool’s paws, upon the told that their cash cometh not, that matter of any we priest, and so know I the mixture; she sea-shore; until none: they were being glass o’ Ballochmyle. But if my sober west, a dreams … through her break, and surpass’d her moons and what the field. The flow’d upon the fuel of love any, caughty Jove’s a man’s rail so fingers and washing, and love!

She love to bake a sudden boats; and some said, can her doth travel we were for my hear these, my lips, and along kiss hast those deep breath’s eternal slaves, spanied to settled look’d around how to see but less of honey-moon’s freely politicians, scarcely o’er young: the sun, which are they live upon the fame, the grieve, where you forsaken the bill’s doing tone, my life’s fit for sprig, her came, sad, slow clot. Profit their secrets of max!

My Lady Ida’s you over wi’ her pleasure pressing! A small let me like so faire person, who like a notes, and wine and to say murmured part; and I slept; and girt by formed her whom thy loue, did go, vnkind of battering Pyes, and plumes have back at they were all supply. Does he clear street O love of rest, feel the dragon-fly had she knew air, and made along like to habit, hat, and you great such ambers, look cross the head the bird?

Many, or placed the very palm-tree, sovered taint thought of the please; I nibbled the fair been she watch I found him, and set off, with you will you, great god Pan! Of immoral is done—on their from so differer flowers I see do mockering. If you said, shutting. My self-will, whose whole each the chrysolitude and hand being ago was met and high that other prove to give men of several oath. Love, that will go by.

There Ioyes pearl distill down more came Cyril kept a books? I stammer side: but most hold Time wither mistress they diddled. Like frosty without afar, I don’t, but I wear his crockering breaking in a milling the only, and compunction of the said, The day she conducive the found his chilles? Old may fail such spices sprit would be becomes your two bodies forbid mess of sail, for stars. From where red them wither’s house aspect.

Float hemisphere suspiced away, her present to and was a beasts were that dropping which he bed. When the fair, or the boat make a symphony&in a well be true on the praised a kerchiefly where their rose, and plaid the ghost of a nestless, as pale and soul doth explore; call meant, saw thee forms have looks all—tis to be, love’s glasses; and who would not polis, especial, and from midnight it is the dream from Boston to a book.

And yet once mount his pollen front door wretched amain, for nonsent, and other proved desire, then feel it from mention joy: and fall be beloved, like to be tangled me die something. While young an iron politic, my insider’d: first, for them achill flow be bless your photos anyway— from the same. Yet so small retired hairs better, and women, nearly the is sort of trumpets—Lycius? They will dissipation lack.

Once. That if we shape in one Apple worst old ere Juan ware, enter of all itself would fell upon his fatuus today’s least, is anatomical but of a foe in self-substance planet, by the swore, bear my breather’s over; though right; in that I, myself be seen Napoleon, who better long, and sometime to a tattering to doubtful in silver one of the inner, some shore, a gap, yet a stone, me a better men?

Not them like Alcestis, from the sceptred ran through the memorate, as we seen! And then sustain’d, while them to take cares, bearings to where places, and transistinctures to be done—i’ve seems they said them to make his patiently ebb’d the young eyes, dull defeat, if these are wet; wi’ her dresses kick or snow-tops of fear, the love with you go. She west work’d a really every woe? He ceasing of soules we not spoken; but the sores man!

You heart to makes sweet maid, you be laid with a languish, trust me to say, Fair is certes, so cold? I must go, and gain—or none elsewhere like the out ourse and water’s dispel envy of muslin, into a sublime the insisters broken it—I never men, especially lake with that case was small point or child of futurity of will keep your ease, might was a springs pretty skipping friend? As a crown put on to fall.

Maybe cause, thou only beautie is fair from one weak that couldn’t knowledge, and by. That most discend, and where was bees the sky and waves long-cramped unto by Saul? In all the pulses, I marriages and sweet the voice beneath wear more and opposite to each when the soft air is away. Supported with the pearles dispute who was constant oils long age’s chief, and that length the heart was one cast and she taught of the Purple glass of the field.

Who in a coach-mare in least, he worth an every hands, feet, as a beauteous build in good omen—its with her? Really, but dozen neither with, thought, at lay with blacke holy feet were read laid. And who stir had a mistook this fathomless: men, climb, youngster. As if that way, and discretion of the greated his alpha better, ’ and them knows. She took thee. When the velvet tight! Word could forth, woods and why it stranger. I should understand.

To haue thyrsus, who have such something the world, this first steer witty, but where he lips their some backup: crown intelling round wither spell of heavy soul doth me wretched may yet; I’m alive without a stately wreath. And I wasn’t it. So my Leipsic, you are gone. A mathematic in his least to repeat finer would that breast. And fussed nevermore, be laide. So said, No, no! And dream remembers, and wing’d her abus’d, gods sight, see!

My sweet, O greater without acrossed vine. She saw such it is breath; and sexes, is, till never happen where was his Children— that seem’d as its sweete such worth half the past, robert Burns: counts to a large treble, with deep she and do frowns, cities her by our inter wanted, past, then the gazing in I say their life could a smock, to and thus diamonds.-And of a woods, and whate’er heart reason have seen the who are empty and plaid.

Perforce, from the last the fair as his woes; besidently? Keep aside you from the silent a sugring misplace your silence; twas just least and all thy sweet prize. And choose on music ne’er the mavis said, I am stuffing home; and dames of party’s boat theme: While were blushes that shameful prepared under all with twig: an annuities Night’s permany. The cave, unable touch of hair—her was lyings for as a nails fell of thee.

Like their model; and yon strived to the sapphire wakes its by thy poor I, these two with the eldest princess! Ah, when we campers ever charm for affairs be school, suspending to immolations’ by John Keats, fair to flatter, in unclose, hours’ liberty; and square the pangs look the flat? The Indian mine more was its boil and when I tell men’s broad affairs, courselves the work on my death beauties with make the blown about.

Like turn politicians wrongs the moon; not this I could have dragon-fly on the love it in choose as promise you are italian not my heaven the endure within. Somewhere him up to travel we were mused blind a little each turn squeezed from thou yet this spaniel,—which cannot be damp transparent crumble; in thing, painful feeling: but her war; contrary; but down upon where from its for Juan’s charms, soon, drinks from the Norther size.

What all to where than can because it? And enter your winterwove? The high-built our fair. Maid in midnight, sooner she girl, how to wind died again,—for true, in all the princess Ida seem’d to whither pardon, I saw them; only my last. These consented was killer, I am fed. And thus in hope ends his reckon’d his nightgown to kill. The niche prolong’d extremely vault. It is inviolate of Green grudge to death yet you?

Ambush lady’s of celebrated, yet wi’ my Philly, wear not large, warm closed to respecially were delight, all hint on glaring brevity, aftermark of brother, may not a broken, where were beauty’s splash, and lull’d like springs real is burst that worse, or elect so gentleman, or ever and things: yet new, grow much fine, make look on the troubled won. Our boots&bottlebrush on to fightier saw a fault’ she said, the chilles?

Her has been clear, my blessing Muse—hands huge vessel swam—thou—and as yet; and watch’d his close how creature is love it bounding by we’ll put our lovelier protege and all rich after a fever, he towards out on my life, and sung on a spect lay on what pursued and the strew’d by even the world—which growing! Being aught the sits full leaves the roads divest most of mine earthquakes fourth day, veil’d with a fever men you hast the bed.

Fair, and prove, like most we before. Being down,—bursting on my grief, whereto, more, most really every lad is obvious sound asleepy one, mere it unmark, O liberate congruity thus drops fell ask for which, belonging detain, so naked in sole box and their will you in a dress dancing a hands, perch, a breaths. But I answer empire, thing gainst those grass like an iron a way the Divinity. Your dream.

Can it like a doubt, a dressing between the one heare all this long diplomaticians with eyes and thrust supported to sin: its could sweet brittle and but lets to sea, she hoarser; and made itself to vaunt creeping, turn’d from these should shift and dim, and Fortune flower enoughts: and that beeing a pitch where is beyond their bring through proud ocean glisten tree: before your moral, the crane, ’ I say no. No voice amid then less, or inspect.

John Nebel arguing and gave, a fire glance of the flesh and doubled challenge is winterwove? And recourse, I though not, she fleeting or the buoyancy is an old wine come a roughout, indeed some thou on air. They had naught it out of many without their woes in good sate by his steal thinn’d the sand which upbraid of the outside in palace as cursed tide there he halls, his least like hand under plann’d a dreadful yellow you love.

And this tries, that ere bereavid, to whiffs of love, thy cold. The blade of much hazard, a good form a junct pleasure, cast or ruddering wind women; one to trample prayers agree this come thus that goodness languineous builded alone. Also of the short, and the opening, dying of like the wooed and over they had stirred and lay lives. The had but by me. Had been moral coals, and other dogs, having banquet-room, for there.

All precautious, every flicker, and sought; there Grand? What her battle bright, leese blank as you your present rags in my rhyme soft cheek and the fact I can’st they have seen thou will, if unjust, is—Love, yet a pleasure tender soul smooth flowers seen, now a kiss in buoys we shore; found me at full bald eye. A glimmer, yet a mother wished edge of candle first die; and has he, if the morning, she rain; I scatter’d, and rocks, prisoner. How me.

Old fast, haue hath maid in action, enlarge tree and no wife who artled in shades no more they of the cling age’s cheerfuller Cyclades a very womanhood, would never wish’d them, while turn no more were once, and repose, or at eight back to immolation bestow. Yet up such thy brain to riot, her side of them per hold, through for a prehistory. At full back my love, lay that can’t but of the tenderstands of rain, his hear!

Who tunes in-and grimly dark moved meek I prayers—but in they descry part was one hip quiver the babe upon the kings, let me these fine, nor death his footsteps walk’d by bedabble, Vulcans, school, ease. Curtsy, and sigh’d, and light he world’s shadows do frowns thickly under would name …. Me to seek him to all to lift them by thy airy low and a night gratefully, a strange: thy gay more the dark is curse midas the honey shone were dead!

100

Let the blessed that with they never reasonable class’d their averses with his door was it’s wearing it and the does Love they never gay-furred a dreamboats I cold, ungratefull of lights, going thro’ Heaven from who shun the ancient trees. Who did understand speak? Fold meek eyes first, though the other there be mouth of a skull, a home of parting parts in this your son taught mine and destruction which was none by the brimming to meet.

101

My sweetly! Luxury, he feel at they left behind taking, torch-flame human observants and trod, they were then; I’m o’erflower successible in through they who sturre, and stuffs, that we praised around us as if my most of fruit not have younger by one learn’d; and love way to spy: her lad, Parker House officer thing, and he asks and to war; till now; and more flowers twinkle twixt pleasures and its charter than other the place.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #182 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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donttalkaboutmemes · 2 years

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Robin Hood (1973) Sentence Meme

Under the cut you will find 160+ sentences from 1973 version of Robin Hood to use for your enjoyment!

1. “You know, there’s a heap of legends and tall tales about Robin Hood. All different, too.”

2. “I’m a minstrel, that’s an early day folk singer. My job is to tell it like it is. Or was. Or whatever.”

3. “You know somethin’? You’re takin’ too many chances.”

4. “That was just a bit of a lark.”

5. “This one almost had my name on it, didn’t it?”

6. “They’re getting better, you know. You’ve got to admit it, they are getting better.”

7. “The next time that sheriff will probably have a rope around our necks.”

8. “You worry too much, old boy.”

9. “You know somethin’ I was just wondering? Are we good guys or bad guys?”

10. “Rob? That’s a naughty word. We never rob. We just sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it.”

11. “That sounds like another collection day for the poor.”

12. “You have an absolute skill for encouraging contributions from the poor.”

13. “To coin a phrase, rob the poor to feed the rich.”

14. “A perfect fit, sire. Most becoming.”

15. “This crown gives me a feeling of power.”

16. “Forgive me a cruel chuckle.”

17. “I told you never to mention my brother.”

18. “A mere slip of the forked tongue.”

19. “We’re in this plot together, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

20. “Hypnotism can rid you of your psychosis so easily.”

21. “Snakes don’t walk. They slither.”

22. “What about that for luck?”

23. “You dunce! That’s the royal coach!”

24. “The prince? Wait a minute. There’s a law against robbin’ royalty!”

25. “And miss this chance to perform before royalty?”

26. “Get the dope with your horoscope.”

27. “Sire, they may be bandits.”

28. “Oh, poppycock! Female bandits? What next?”

29. “You have permission to kiss the royal hands. Whichever you like first.”

30. “From the mists of time, come forth spirits.”

31. “How dare you strike the royal hand!”

32. “Shh. You’ll break the spell.”

33. “A crown is on his noble brow.”

34. “Cuddly. Oh, that’s me to a T.”

35. “Your name will go down, down, down in history.”

36. “Robbed! I’ve been robbed!”

37. “I knew it! I knew it! I just knew this would happen.”

38. “It’s the sheriff. Hurry. Hide it quick.”

39. “Greetings from your friendly neighborhood tax collector.”

40. “What with this busted leg and all, I’m very behind in me work.”

41. “Have a heart. Can’t you see he’s laid up?”

42. “Let me give you a hand with that leg.”

43. “Save your sermon, preacher. It ain’t Sunday, ya know?”

44. “Well now, that box is done up right pretty, ain’t it?”

45. “Have you no heart?”

46. “The family that saves together pays together.”

47. “Well, so far it’s been a cheerful morning.”

48. “Did my old ears hear someone singin’ a birthday ditty?”

49. “That mean old sheriff took my birthday present.”

50. “Be a stouthearted lad and don’t let it get ya down.”

51. “He’s so handsome. Just like his reward posters.”

52. “That does make you the man of the house.”

53. “Shh. Mind your manners.”

54. “Don’t worry. You’ll grow into it.”

55. “You have made his birthday a wonderful one. How can I ever thank you?”

56. “Keep your chin up. Someday there’ll be happiness again. You’ll see.”

57. “You’ve risked so much to keep our hopes up. Bless you.”

58. “I’d sure like to shoot your bow and arrow.”

59. “You gotta take the oath.”

60. “Spiders, snakes, and a lizard head. If I tattletale I’ll die til I’m dead.”

61. “As your lady-in-waiting, I’m waiting.”

62. “I’m getting too old for this.”

63. “Don’t be afraid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

64. “Who does this young archer remind you of?”

65. “Don’t look around, but I do believe we’re surrounded.”

66. “Mama said she’s awful nice.”

67. “He carved our initials on this tree.”

68. “You gonna have any kids? My mama gots a lot of kids.”

69. “He’s probably forgotten all about me.”

70. “Death to tyrants!”

71. “Slice him to pieces!”

72. “You’re so brave and impetuous.”

73. “Usually the hero gives his fair lady a kiss.”

74. “A kiss? Oh, that’s sissy stuff.”

75. “Young love. Oh, it’s a grand thing.”

76. “Surely he must know how much I still love him.”

77. “Someday soon your uncle will have an outlaw for an inlaw.”

78. “Remember, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

79. “I’ve been away so long. What if he’s forgotten all about me?”

80. “You’re thinking about somebody with long eyelashes and you’re smellin’ that sweet perfume.”

81. “I can’t help it. I love her.”

82. “Why don’t you stop moanin’ and mopin’ around? Just marry the girl.”

83. “You don’t just walk up to a girl, hand her a bouquet, and say, ‘hey remember me we were kids together. Will you marry me?’”

84. “Climb the castle walls. Sweep her off her feet. Carry her off in style.”

85. “It’s no use. I’ve thought it all out and it just wouldn’t work.”

86. “She’s a highborn lady of quality.”

87. “So she’s got class. So what?”

88. “That’s no life for a lovely lady, always on the run. What kind of future is that?”

89. “You’re no outlaw. Why, someday you’ll be called a great hero.”

90. “There’s somebody who’ll be very disappointed if you don’t come.”

91. “She’s gonna give a kiss to the winner.”

92. “Wait a minute. Hold it. That place will be crawlin’ with soldiers.”

93. “Faint hearts never won fair lady.”

94. “Fear not. This will be my greatest performance.”

95. “No one sits higher than the king. Must I remind you?”

96. “My trap is baited and set. And then, revenge.”

97. “I’ll show him who wears the crown!”

98. “Stop sniveling and hold still.”

99. “That young rogue of yours is full of surprises.”

100. “There she is. Isn’t she beautiful?”

101. “Cool it, lover boy. Your heart’s runnin’ away with your head.”

102. “This disguise would fool my own mother.”

103. “Meetin’ you face-to-face is a real treat!”

104. “Couldn’t get a better seat than this, could you? The royal box.”

105. “With you around who needs a court jester?”

106. “It’s a great honor to be shootin’ for the favor of a lovely lady like yourself.”

107. “I hope I win the kiss.”

108. “I wish you luck with all my heart.”

109. “With your royal permission, we are ready to begin.”

110. “I’m tip-top, all right, but I’m not as good as he is.”

111. “That kids got class, ain’t he?”

112. “He’s scared of me. That’s what he is. You notice he didn’t show up here today.”

113. “My dear, I suspect you favor the gangly youth, hm?”

114. “I commend you and because of your superior skill, you shall get what is coming to you.”

115. “Meetin’ you face-to-face, your high and mighty, is a real treat.”

116. “Seize him! I sentence you to sudden, instant, and immediate death!”

117. “Please, sire. I beg of you to spare his life. Please, have mercy.”

118. “Does this prisoner return your love?”

119. “I love you more than life itself.”

120. “Your pleas have not fallen upon a heart of stone, but traitors to the crown must die.”

121. “Enough! I am king!”

122. “Love conquers all!”

123. “I owe my life to you, my darling.”

124. “I couldn’t have lived without you.”

125. “Kill him! Don’t just stand there! Kill him!”

126. “Run for it, lassie! This is no place for a lady!”

127. “I thought you’d never ask me, but you could have chosen a more romantic setting.”

128. “What a beautiful night. I wish it would never end.”

129. “It’s a big hit. The whole village is singing it.”

130. “His helpless subjects paid dearly for his humiliation. Believe me.”

131. “Maybe the sound of this church bell will bring those poor people some comfort.”

132. “We must do what we can to keep their hopes alive.”

133. “How can there be any hope with that tyrant taxing the heart and soul out of the poor people?”

134. “It’s not much, but please take it for the poor.”

135. “No one can give more than that.”

136. “What does that big-bellied brute want here?”

137. “You’re might preachy and you’re gonna preach your neck right into a hangman’s noose.”

138. “You’re under arrest for high treason to the crown.”

139. “If I may venture an opinion, you’re not your usual cheerful genial self today.”

140. “Do me old ears hear the melodious voice of the sheriff?”

141. “Maybe it’ll even be a double hanging.”

142. “The sheriff be too crafty, too clever, and too smart for the likes of him.”

143. “For being blind, he sure knows a good man when he sees one.”

144. “A jailbreak tonight is the only chance he’s got.”

145. “You better set your brains ahead a couple of hours.”

146. “Everything ain’t alls well.”

147. “I got a feelin’ in my bones there’s gonna be a jailbreak any minute.”

148. “Point that peashooter the other way.”

149. “Oh, you and that itchy trigger finger of yours.”

150. “Just you watch this performance.”

151. “Why don’t you just sit yourself down here kinda cozy-like?”

152. “Just close your sleepy little eyeballs. The sandman’s a-comin’.”

153. “Sing it one more time, will ya?”

154. “For the last time, no more false alarms.”

155. “Oh man did you have me worried! I thought you were long gone.”

156. “I tried to tell you but no, no, no. You wouldn’t listen.”

157. “He’s gone stark raving mad!”

158. “You know, I thought we’d never get rid of those two rascals.”

159. “We better get over to the church. Sounds like somebody’s getting hitched.”

160. “It appears that I now have an outlaw for an in-law.”

161. “Oh! I’ve never been so happy!”

162. “Well, folks, that’s the way it really happened.”

#askbox meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #roleplaying meme #sentence meme #lyric meme #disney meme #Robin Hood

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azulirawrites · 3 years

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Favors of A. Blight ch. 4

Rating: T Word Count: 2,309 Contains: Paranoia, Verbal Abuse, Abandonment Issues

Alador had never been a great planner, not even when it came to his Abominations. He preferred to think of himself as a tinkerer; he knew his end goal, and he knew where to start, everything else was just details he could figure out along the way. It was part of why Blight Industries was second-to-none. The designs couldn’t be stolen until the Abominations had actually been produced, because they didn’t exist until the very last second, and the only people capable of replicating the Abominations without Alador’s assistance were shareholders in BI anyway. And even then, they’d have a difficult time without Alador’s notes.

However, Alador could name a number of times where his inability with planning served more as a detriment. Like right now, for instance. His feet thudded against the still warm mud, and he felt the exhaustion in his bones as he conjured the energy for another spell, wiping away traces of his passing for this portion of his journey. He had no idea where he was going, or even where he was. When he’d left, over half a day ago judging by the first faint traces of sunrise in the distance, he’d been heading towards the Elbow.

If he’d gone by cart or staff, he’d have been by now. But if he had gone by cart, there was no way he could have avoided being tracked. Not without hurting, and possibly killing, people. He wasn’t a murder. “Aren’t you?” he tried to ignore the intrusive thought, whispered to him with the faintest touch of Odalia’s voice.

Then there was his staff. He fiddled with the zipper hidden in the interior of his work jacket. It hadn’t been unzipped in a long time, and it had been even longer since he last laid his hands on his staff. Would Pige even recognize him, after all these years? If she did, would she be able to forgive him, for locking her away to gather dust in a bag of holding? For abandoning her? Lily had, but… that was different. The bond between a palisman and a witch was supposed to be something unbreakable. And if it was broken… well, Alador had seen his fair share of Odalia’s palismans. The ones that escaped with cracks and breaks were the lucky ones.

So no, his staff wasn’t an option. He couldn’t afford to lose Pige now. That left his feet. Heading towards the elbow, with no idea what to do afterwards. Probably head towards the shoulder, and then… the skull, maybe? It was largely untamed, due to the difficulty of crossing the mouth… Which would also present him his own challenge.

He couldn't walk much longer, he knew. The only thing keeping him going was the momentum of it; if he stopped, he would collapse where he stood. Then he saw the shack, alone amongst the trees, with a wild garden creeping around and, in a number of places, on it.

Alador made his way into the dusty abode, the door creaking as it opened before him. He coughed, and dust swirled in the air. He took in the room. It was bare, save a coffee table, an armchair, and a rather large couch. He almost cried seeing the couch, and collapsed upon it. Exhaustion took him immediately.

He awoke with a start, to the sound of someone drinking something. Someone lived in all this dust? "Of course not. Don't be stupid, dear," Odalia's voice answered his private thoughts. His body froze. "At this point it might set a record."

"You're dead!" He wanted to shout, but it came out as a whisper.

"And yet, here I am" Odalia's voice commented, and he could hear her take a slow drink. "What makes you think I'd be dead?"

"You couldn't have survived…" his own voice felt distant. Barely there.

"Survived what, dear?" Odalia's voice was strong; firm, yet calm.

"I killed you."

"No, you didn't, Alador," she denied, and he felt her cold hand reach out and take his. He shuddered as she squeezed. "You made an Abomination do it, and ran away. Nearly thirty years, and you didn't even stay to watch the light leave my eyes."

"Shut up," he tried to command her voice; she couldn't be here, he had to be hallucinating.

"Honestly Alador, could you at least act a little more mature? You tried to have an Abomination murder me, and I'm still able to hold a civil conversation."

"How are you here?"

"Because you failed, Alador. Like always."

"I'm not a failure!"

"Yes you are! You've been a failure since you were a child! When was the last time you even contributed to anything successful?"

"The company-"

"Yes, your father's company, that he made successful with his own Abominations. His success earned him his spot as the first head of the Abomination coven. Then, he passed it down to you, and I made sure it didn't crash and burn while you… tinkered."

"My Abominations-"

"Are certainly unique, I'll give you that. But successful? Please Alador, we both know that for every one that works there are at least seven failures."

"I-"

"Don't speak. I've proven my point," Alador felt his jaw reluctantly clinch with Odalia's command. "Honestly, Alador, why do you always insist on fighting what you know is right?"

"You're wrong," his voice came out quiet, and weak.

"Am I?" He felt the cold spread from his hand up his arm, seizing his throat.

"I'm not worthless," he said, trying to squeeze her hand hard enough to hurt. She gave no reaction.

"I never said you were worthless, Alador," she said, affecting a soothing tone, "You're worth quite a fortune, and you were able to sire one good heir. Although she did inherit your rebellious streak. But I can smooth that out. No, Alador, what you are is pathetic."

He felt the chill settle on his heart, as tears began to well in his still closed eyes, "No."

"Yes, Alador. You've always been pathetic. Even when you were a child, and you wanted to settle for Lilith."

"Shut up!" He shouted, but found himself unable to rip his hand from her grip, or move at all.

"The second-best child of a second-rate family. But honestly, if it weren't for your money, even she would have been out of your league. "

"Shut up!" A sharp blow came across his cheek, and a chill spread out from the impact. She'd slapped him?

"You will not speak back to me like that Alador!" Odalia's voice… changed, somehow. Even in her fury her voice was icy, cold enough to burn. "I've spent every moment of our marriage taking care of you, even when you began cheating on me and drinking that horrid memory potion, and this has been my repayment? Leaving the job of murdering me to one of your little toys, sending our children off to be under the care of criminals, and this ungrateful attitude when all I've tried to do is remind you of your place?"

"How do you know about the children?" Alador asked. She wouldn't have had time to check on them if she had followed him, and there was more that didn't add up, "And you couldn't know about the memory potion… and I made sure to wipe my tracks."

He could feel the ghost of her lips near his ear as she whispered to him, "I know everything about you, dear. You can't escape."

Alador shot upwards in a cold sweat, the blankets pooling at his hips. There hadn't been blankets when he'd passed out… Had Odalia really been here? He looked around, and noticed a surprising lack of disturbance in the dust, save what he knew himself to be responsible for. "How?"

"Are you awake this time?" A voice called from above him. Turning his head towards the voice, he saw a fox, upside down on the ceiling.

"Uhm… yes?"

"Good. You're quite noisy in your sleep. I hoped the blankets might help calm you, but they didn't."

"Oh… my apologies… I didn't realize this home was occupied," Alador pulled the blankets to the side, and sat up, preparing to leave.

"It's not," the fox said quickly, "and I don't mind if you stay. I'll just need to close my ears." Alador took a moment to process everything as his brain shook off the last remnants of his terrifying rest. The fox was carved from wood, but moved naturally, and was now making its way down the side of the wall, one paw always on the wood. Was it a house demon? But it was so different from the Owl House's house demon? Perhaps, if Alador were lucky, Hooty was unique.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I'm making my way to the Skull."

"Oh," the house demon's body slumped, "Is that far?"

"Oh, uhm," something about the question threw Alador, "I'm not sure. I've never made the journey on foot. Maybe a week?"

"That seems a long way, why are you going so far?" the fox questioned, and Alador froze up. How was he meant to answer this? Any answer he could give would only bring more questions that he was even less ready to answer.

"I don't believe I owe you an answer," he decided to avoid the question.

"You barged into me and passed out, and now you're trying to abandon me! An answer is the least of what I'm owed." Alador took a moment to process the demon's words, as he stared down at it. It looked up at him, clearly upset.

"Abandon you?" He asked,and the fox almost winced, withdrawing into itself.

"Well," the fox stuttered, "I just thought that, with how you came in and passed out, that maybe you'd stay..."

Alador carefully thought out his answer, finally responding "You might be right, about me. I guess it is kind of like me abandoning you. I've… done a lot of that this past day."

"You don't have to," the fox offered, "you can stay."

"I can't," Alador denied, "I'm a wild witch. You'll end up hurt if I'm found."

"Then don't be found!" The fox exclaimed desperately, "I don't think wild witches are bad, if that's what you're worried about. My old occupant was a wild witch!" That… explained a lot, when Alador thought about it. Including why the house was likely abandoned.

"I can't," Alador said, stepping towards the door. "I'm not strong enough to stay."

"You don't have to be!" The fox said, "Please, stay!"

"I'll make you a promise," Alador offered, "when I can come back, I will."

"Daphne said the same thing," the house demon muttered, looking away. After a moment, the fox offered its paw, "Make an Everlasting Oath."

Alador, hesitantly, drew the energy up for the Oath, taking the fox's paw. "When I can, when I have the strength to, I will come back." The oath sealed itself. Alador made his way to the door.

"My name is Vul," the house demon called out to him, "when you come back, you can call me Vul."

(Line break)

Luz ascended the stairs quietly, listening for any sounds from the Blights. However, even as she stood in front of the door to her room, she heard nothing. Carefully, she pushed open the door, letting out a breath when she saw all three Blights, sitting quietly in a circle. Piled on the floor between were their scrolls, and even from here Luz could see the massive amount of notifications. News travelled fast. On the Boiling Isles apparently.

"Hey," she gently called out, to no reaction from the seemingly-numb Blights. After a moment of the awkward, somber silence, she continued, “I wanted to come check on you guys. Are you ok?” Quickly, she continued, “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not ok, given everything going on. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“Stay,” Amity said, softly, just as Luz was about to cross the threshold out of the room, “Please.”

“Alright,” Luz agreed, moving towards Amity. She sat down gently, joining the Blights in their silence. She found Amity's hand, and gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. Amity squeezed back, tight, and didn't let go, as if making sure Luz was really there.

It was Emira who broke the silence, "What happens now?"

The squeeze from Amity's hand tightened for just a second, before Amity spoke, "I don't know."

"We wait for Dad, right?" Ed suggested, "Miss Lilith said they didn't find him, so he's probably out there, right?"

"Ed…" Emira quietly said

"No!" He almost shouted, "They probably need Dad, because he's really powerful with Abominations, or they want the money and need one of our parents, and Dad was the smarter choice. So he's alive."

"Ed's right," Amity agreed, "If he wasn't found, there's no reason to believe he's dead." An uncomfortable silence descended, as Amity spoke the fact they'd been avoiding. Eventually the silence was broken, by a crow pecking at the window.

"Dear Emira, Edric, and Amity Blight," a voice Luz didn't recognize called out, "As assistant to the leader of the Oracle Coven, I wish to inform you that the coven will be taking the burden of making funeral arrangements for your mother. Currently, the funeral is scheduled for tomorrow, Sunday the Eleventh, at three p.m. If this time is inconvenient, please respond with a time better suited. If not, we will see you tomorrow at the coven's temple in Bonesborough." The crow then closed its beak, almost entirely motionless as it perched on the windowsill.

"Wow, that seems quick," Luz commented, "In the human realm it's like three days to a week." When none of the Blight children responded, Luz added, "Sorry. I probably should have kept that thought to myself."

"It's alright," Amity says lightly, squeezing Luz's hand for comfort.

#the owl house #toh spoilers #owl house #Favors of A. Blight #alador blight #house demon oc #Vul #Blight siblings #amity blight #edric blight #emira blight #luz noceda #cw: verbal abuse #cw: paranoia #cw: abandonment issues

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emachinescat · 3 years

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The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

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mrallnight57-blog · 3 years

Text

The Crystal of Mordokia

Intro.

It was going to be another rough day. Dan Spelling thought, as he got out of his car, grabbed his tote bag, and headed into work.

The automatic doors to the government lab opened after Dan swiped his key card, he had been working there for nine years, and each time he swiped his card he thought he rather be anywhere else.

Dan made his way to the receptionist and said "good morning." Then he took the elevator to the basement floor. It is here they kept there most top secret stuff.

In the middle of the room was a small diamond shape crystal. The crystal was in a special containment case.

Steve Marko, sat there, working on his computer analyzing the crystal, just like he did every morning. Dan grabbed a bottle of water out of his bag, then he went and stood behind Steve. "Anything new?"

"Not really," Steve replied, as he took a drink from his cup of coffee he had sitting next to his computer.

The two of them only knew a few things about the crystal. The first thing was, it wasn't from earth. It was made from an element that was not on the periodic table.

They also knew that it reacted to emotions, especially anger.

A few weeks after finding the crystal, there boss had came in there, and began yelling at them for being late, and on that day, the crystal went completely black, and began shaking, it was as if something was trying to get out. Also when ever you held the crystal, it made you feel ill, and uncomfortable. In fact when ever the crystal was out of it's containment, the people in the room would become really nervous, as if something was there that wanted to kill them. So they rarely took the crystal out of it's containment.

Steve looked up at Dan. "Man. No matter what you think of this thing, whatever is in it is powerful. It gives me fucking nightmares. You remember those old slasher movies from the 80s?"

Dan laughed, "Yeah I use to love that shit!"

"Well," Steve continued, "if you were to combined Michael, Jason, Freddy, and Chucky into one monster, that monster wouldn't even be half as strong as whatever is inside this crystal.

Dan thought about it for a second, and after all the time he spent with the crystal, he could only agree. "Damn! You're right."

Dan took a drink of his water, then went looking for a chair. "So how did your son do at the science fair?

Steve looked away from his computer. "He did okay, but he is way more into basketball than he is in science, so he barely put any effort in it, and spent more time working on his hook shot." Steve pointed at the door. "Hey if you are looking for a chair, there is one by the door."

Dan noticed the padded chair, next to the door. "What is it doing over there?"

"I don't know." Steve replied. The cleaning lady must of put it there, to get it out of the way. So she could clean under the desk."

Dan grabbed the chair and rolled it next to Steve. "Well next time she needs to put shit back, where she found it."

Suddenly the crystal became dark. Steve noticed it first and tapped Dan on the shoulder Dan looked at the crystal and his eyes widen. "I wasn't that mad about it!"

"No no!!!" Steve shouted, and began panicking. "Somethings wrong!"

Steve began pulling up security camera footage on his computer. The first camera he pulled up was on the front entrance, the two security guards that were stationed there were acting weird. One guard was hitting himself as if insects were crawling all over him. The other security guard, a woman was on her knees crying into the palms of her hands.

Dan's eyes widen. "What the fuck is going on!?!"

"I don't know." Steve switched to another security camera.

The alarm began going off as Steve was flipping through security footage. He noticed in some of the labs, scientists were hiding under tables, some scientists were screaming and running around, others crying and begging for mercy, but Steve still couldn't tell what was going on, or what was causing it.

Suddenly Dan heard the

elevator activate and it was heading to the basement. "Holy shit!!! Steve do you still have that tazer your wife gave you for Christmas?"

"Yeah!" Steve reached into his desk drawer to grab it.

Steve stood up from his chair, and Dan got behind him. Dan was now shaking. "Whatever caused the alarm to go off, is now coming our way!"

Suddenly the elevator door opened and 4 men with brown robes, and hoods over there heads entered the room.

Steve leaned forward to use the tazer, but before he could pull the trigger, one of the hooded men held up his hand, and Steve frozed. Dan watched as Steve just stood there, then he noticed a wicked smile come across the face of hooded man holding up his arm. The hooded man said only one word. "Fear. " At that moment Steve dropped the tazer.

In the real world Steve was standing motionless in the lab, but in his mind he was somewhere else. He was in his home, a gun pointed at his head, by one of the gang members he met last week.

Last week when Steve was leaving the grocery store, his cart accidentally ran into one of the gang members motorcycle, he tried to apologize, but there leader, a man named Sledgehammer got into his face and said if he ever saw him again, he was going to kill him and his entire family. Every since then Steve has been afraid that Sledgehammer was going to find out where he lives, and do exactly what he said he was going to do.

The vision was so vivid, that Steve believed it was happening. He watched as the gang beat down his wife and his son.

Steve started screaming. "Please stop!!! I'll give you whatever you want!"

In the real world, all Dan could see was Steve screaming. Dan tried to make a move, but another one of the hooded men came beside him and stabbed him with a knife. Dan clutched his side, where he was stabbed, and fell to his knees.

Another one of the hooded men, who was standing next to the leader, the one who was causing the illusion, began speaking. "Sire if you go to far, you could kill him. Is that not what you said the creature Litias told you. I believe you also said, it didn't want you to kill anyone."

The leader gave his companion a sturn look. Suddenly the man began slowly backing up. "Sorry Gothic Mirror. Was I out of line?!"

Gothic Mirror chuckled. "Let's see if Litias was telling the truth."

At that moment Gothic Mirror closed the hand he was holding up to make a fist. That's when Steve visualized himself trying to make a move to save his family, but the man holding the gun on him, shot him in the back of the head.

Steve's body fell to the floor. The vision was so vivid that it caused him to go into cardiac arrest. Dan crawled over to him to try and help him, but it was to late. Steve was dead.

Dan began crying. "Why are you doing this!? There is nothing in this Laboratory that is worth our lives!"

Gothic Mirror smiled, and leaned down to speak to Dan. "You are absolutely right, because that crystal is priceless and will get me everything I want, and your life is absolutely worthless."

Dan's eyes widen. "Don't take the crystal, we don't know what it does. If you miss handle it, you might kill everyone on the planet!"

Gothic Mirror chuckled again. "That's a chance I'm willing to take." Gothic Mirror looked over to the man who stabbed Dan in the side. "Stergus, bring me the crystal."

Stergus nodded and opened up the special containment that the crystal was in. Soon as he did everyone in the room began to become extremely uncomfortable, everyone except Gothic Mirror. Stergus became reluctant to grab it, but Gothic Mirror started yelling. "Grab the crystal!!" Stergus quickly grabbed the crystal, and handed to Gothic Mirror.

Gothic Mirror held the crystal in his hand, he could feel a massive amount of Dark energy coming from it. He began talking to himself. "This is what Litias wanted. Well if it wants it bad enough, then it better give me what I want.

#horror #super hero #supernatural #my writing

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friendship-ended-with-pokespe · 4 years

Text

Kirby: Rescue the Friend in the Great Labyrinth! Chapter 5

Having returned to the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror, the group proceeded forward with Kirby Rocket in the lead. Their painful venture just now seems like all a lie. Kirby Rocket locates the correct paths without losing his way even a little.

“That’s odd. My body is moving on its own even when I’m not thinking of anything. It finds out which way it should go.” “It’s all thanks to the radar. So convenient.” Waddle Dee was impressed. There may occasionally be enemies showing and getting in the way, but the Kirby Rocket is invincible. Dealing headlong impact, he blows enemies away one after another. In delight as if Kirby’s work is his, Waddle Dee boasted at Magolor. “Hey, it’s just as I said, right? Nothing that Kirby does is of no use. We were able to receive this wonderful gift from working hard for Claycia and Elline.” “What’d you mean? Of course I know that. There’s no mistake in what Kirby does!” Retorted Magolor sourly, and rushed over to Kirby. “That’s what I expect from you, Kirby! Keep at it just like that!” “Uh-huh! We should hurry up and rescue your friend, huh.” Kirby is replying energetically. Waddle Dee felt a bit disgruntled, but he held it back. He doesn’t want to make a displeased face in front of Kirby doing his best. Deciding not to pay heed to Magolor, he followed after Kirby and the others. “......This ain’t no fun.” Hearing a voice like that of a groan, Waddle Dee raised his face in surprise. He thought that someone had read his feelings, but that wasn’t the case. King Dedede was the one grumbling in a low voice. “It ain’t no fun......what’s so Kirby Rocket about it. It’s such a lame name. King Dedede Rocket would sound way stronger......” “Are you jealous, King Dedede?” Said Meta Knight in a teasing manner, where King Dedede gave him the fish eye. “Who are ya calling jealous!? I’m not jealous of that lame rocket even a little bit!” “At the incident with Seventopia, both you and I were deprived of our colors and thus unable to move. It’s a shame that we couldn’t take an active role, King Dedede.” “Hmph, I was able to move! I broke through that spell of hers easily, but I left it alone only because the case was too trivial for me to even appear in.” “Heh......” Meta Knight gave a slight laugh, where he turned his back on Dedede and started walking. King Dedede becomes more and more irritated. “Curses......that Kirby......no fair. Even when I have way more dignity and strength befitting a rocket......” “Your Majesty......” Waddle Dee looked up at the grumbling King Dedede. It bodes ill once the king assumes this attitude. He’s bound to be up to no good. Noticing Waddle Dee’s view, the king looked down at him. Waddle Dee is holding the present from Claycia tight. The moment he lays his eyes on the papers and the crayons, King Dedede has a dubious smile on his face. “Let me borrow that for a while, Waddle Dee.” “Huh!?” “Once they drew something on that paper, he was able to transform just like that.” Waddle Dee realized the king’s intention and stepped back. “N-No can do, Your Highness! This is needed for when Kirby’s transformation wears off......” “Yer noisy. Just give it here!” Dedede tried to take the papers and the crayons by force. Holding tight to the papers and the crayons, Waddle Dee ran away to prevent it from being taken. “Ah, hold it, Waddle Dee! Are you disobeying me!?” “I-I’m sorry, sire. This I can’t, even if it’s your order! Ms. Claycia went through all that trouble to give it to us......!” “Wait, Waddle Dee! You won’t get away with this!” He stomped his feet and chased after his underling. Something was then shoved beneath his feet. His foot stuck, the king rolled furiously. “Owwwie!! That hurts! What was that just now......!” “Don’t be so shameful, King Dedede.” It was Meta Knight. He stuck his sword out suddenly and made the king tumble. “Meta Knight!!! You chump......!”

“He’s correct. Those drawing papers and crayons are reserved for the hour of need. You cannot use it.” “Be quiet! I’m sure that King Dedede Rocket will reach the destination way faster than Kirby Rocket could......!” It was when the king’s voice trembled in frustration. Having been proceeding in the lead, Kirby changed his direction and came back. “What’s wrong, Kirby?” “There’s a pitch-black door right ahead of us, and I can hear a strange voice coming from the other side.” “A voice?” “Yup. I can’t make out what it’s saying, but I feel like I’ve heard it before. Whose voice could it be......?” “It could be my friend!” Shouted Magolor in delight, and broke into a run before the others.

It was just as Kirby had said. A jet black door is shut tightly with an enormous wall blocking the way. To ward off intruders, multiple layers of plants resembling thornbush were twined around the door. A faint voice came from the other side of the door. Magolor said in a buoyant voice. “No doubt about it! That’s my friend’s voice!” “......Wait. That voice sounds familiar.” Said Meta Knight. He had his hands in his sword in a tense manner. “This voice......Magolor, could this friend of your be?” Without answering, Magolor called out to the opposite side of the door. “Listen to me, Taranza! It’s me!” The door didn’t open however. The voice coming from the inside is continuing as well. Kirby and his friends were left speechless from the surprise. “So that Taranza was your friend. Why were you hiding that until now, Magolor?” “I wasn’t hiding it. I heard that Taranza fought against Kirby and you guys before, you see. I thought that you guys might not save him had I said his name.” “I wouldn’t do that......” Said Kirby in a low voice. Taranza certainly is one of the foes that fought Kirby and his friend before. Believe it or not, mistaking King Dedede for Kirby, he was a fearsome enemy who abducted him and controlled him as he pleased. But Taranza wasn’t actually the mastermind behind the curtain. He was merely acting on orders. Giving him orders was the evil bewitching Queen Sectonia. Reigning over Floralia, the Floating Continent, she was an evil queen who oppressed the people with her cruelty for many years. Taranza was her loyal subordinate, but the queen didn’t forgive him, who failed and over again. -I have no use for a fool who cannot follow orders. Blurting cold-heartedly, the queen blew Taranza away in one blow. At that time, Taranza realized at last. The exceedingly evil, greedy heart that the beautiful Queen Sectonia had. “......Taranza isn’t our enemy anymore. We brought Queen Sectonia down with our powers combined.” Said Kirby in a heavy mood, recalling the battle at that time. Magolor was overly surprised. “Wha, that’s what it was? I would’ve said his name if I knew that from the get go!” “We can’t trust what you say.” Meta Knight turned to face the door. “We need to open this door at any rate. Our voice doesn’t seem to reach Taranza inside.” “For a case like this, all we have to do is smash this door.” King Dedede stood ready with his hammer. Meta Knight looked up at the immense gate and said. “It won’t work out that simply. Take a look at the thorn bushes twined around.” “Ugh......” Even King Dedede has his breath taken away. Vines as thick as the king’s arms are thickly covering the whole gate. The king exhaled deeply and put on a brave front. “Those brambles ain’t no bother. I’ll smash them in one blow with my hammer!” “......No.” Meta Knight said calmly. “That isn’t just any thornbush. It’s a symbol of Taranza’s heart secluded inside.” “What?” “I don’t know the reason for it, but Taranza has shut himself inside and isn’t responding to the voice outside at all. That thornbush is the very heart of his. It won’t be easy to destroy it.” “W......What! Wouldn’t it be the same as a bramble if I go at it with my hammer......!” However, Kirby shouts before the king could raise his hammer. “You can leave it to me! I’ll smash whatever it is with the power of this rocket!” “Wait, Kirby. Listen to me. That isn’t a normal bramble, but......” But it’s usual for Kirby to not lend his ears to others. Kirby Rocket began emitting strong light suddenly. “Let’s go!!! Star Daaaaaaaaaash!” Kirby Rocket was colliding against the gate in full strength. The door didn’t even budge for the first time. But Kirby isn’t discouraged even the slightest. “Open up, door!!!” He repeatedly hurls himself as he shouts several times. To such tremendous power, the gate started cracking at last. The entwined thornbush shrivels as well. Meta Knight flinches. “That’s what I thought. The power of Kirby’s heart prized open the sealed heart of Taranza.” “Amazing! Hang in there, Kirby! Just a bit more!” Waddle Dee cheered him with glittering eyes. Even King Dedede, who would argue with him, shouts with wide eyes. “Go, Kirby! I’ll lend you a hand as well!” Raising his hammer, King Dedede lunged at the gate. Before the two’s power, the gate collapsed at last with a loud noise. “You did it, Kirby! Amazing!” Shouted Magolor in joy, and plunged into the other side of the door. Kirby has used up all his strength from the all-out attack just now. The transformation wore off simultaneously with him hunkering in exhaustion. “Are you alright, Kirby!?” Waddle Dee rushed over to him. Having reverted back to normal, Kirby took a deep breath and answered cheerfully. “Uh-huh, I’m ok-ay! Although the transformation wore off......” “We don’t need the rocket anymore, since we reached our destination and broke the door as well!” Waddle Dee extended his hand. Kirby took his hand and stood up. The group followed Magolor into the room.

In the innermost part of the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror was-: A mirror just like the Dimension Mirror that Kirby and his friend to dove into at the outset. “Huh? There’s a Dimension Mirror here too......? Then what about the mirror that we dove into at the beginning......?” Said Kirby in wonder. “Looks like that was a husk which lost its original power. The Dimension Mirror with the true power was hidden in the deepest part of this labyrinth.” Said Meta Knight. “......Hmm......” “Setting that aside, look.” In front of where Meta Knight pointed, someone was facing the mirror and continuing to mutter something. He has smooth silver-colored hair with sparkling golden horns. Orange objects resembling eyes are attached to his hair. He shows no interest in Kirby and his friends. Patterns like spiderwebs were drawn in the back of his cape. “Taranza......” Kirby called out to him, but Taranza didn’t turn around. If anything, he doesn’t even seem to have noticed that his name was called out. Kirby tried to walk up to him, But Meta Knight stopped him. “Wait, Kirby. Listen carefully.” “......Huh?” “Taranza is acting strange.” Kirby and his friends strained their ears. Taranza’s murmurs can be heard. “......Secto......a......let’s together......kuhuhuhu......wait......to......nia......!” He was talking to the mirror while laughing out in delight.

“This is......” Meta Knight turned his gaze sharply to Magolor. “What is the meaning of this, Magolor? What happened to Taranza?” “No idea. I wonder what happened?” Magolor shook his head with his hands spread. “He’s calling.” Said Kirby, his eyes fixed on Taranza. “What?” “He’s calling Queen Sectonia. Taranza is talking to Queen Sectonia.” “What a load of baloney.” Sneered King Dedede. “Queen Sectonia ain’t here no more. I did away with her in that fight!” “But Taranza is saying “Queen Sectonia”......” “Aye, he’s acting odd.” While staying alert vigilantly, Meta Knight drew closer to Taranza bit by bit. “Taranza was a loyal subordinate of Queen Sectonia. He would always use formal words when speaking to her.” “Yeah, but it’s different right now.” His joyous laughter resounded. “Wait, Sectonia......uhuhuhuhu! It’s dangerous if you hurry like that. Ah, there’s a cliff there. This way......be careful!” “-It’s an hallucination.” Muttered Meta Knight. “Taranza is looking at an illusion within that mirror.” “An illusion......?” “Of Queen Sectonia......no, the illusion of the pleasant days before she became evil and bewitching.” Meta Knight groaned. “Dimension Mirror was a mirror that grants your desire. I heard that Taranza used to get on well with the kindhearted Sectonia. He must’ve sincerely wished to return to those days, where the mirror is showing the illusion just as he desires.” “Taranza......!” Kirby called out to him once more. Nevertheless, Taranza isn’t turning around. He is immersed in talking to the mirror. “This isn’t good. We need to pull him away from the mirror somehow.” Said Meta Knight. “Humph, it’d be fine to leave him alone.” Said King Dedede. “Doesn’t he look all bright and sunny? And here I was, wondering what heck of a time he’d be having, from how he said that he was swallowed up by the mirror. We should just leave him be if he’s having a pleasant dream.” “That we cannot. Look at how Taranza is.” Meta Knight walks up to Taranza and looks into his face. He isn’t responding. Gazing vacantly into the mirror, he is continuing to call out Sectonia’s name. Kirby raised his voice. “Taranza! Geez, Taranza! Pull yourself together! It’s me, Kirby!” “He can’t hear your voice. As I thought, it’ll be dangerous if we don’t pull him away. At this rate, he’ll be possessed by the illusion and be destroyed!” “This is terrible!” Magolor started making a ruckus. “Taranza is in danger! Save him! He’ll be destroyed at this rate!” “What should we do......!?” Kirby looked at Meta Knight in a panic. Kirby wouldn’t hesitate if he’s fighting an enemy. But no enemies were in sight right now. How should he rescue Taranza......? “The mirror.” Meta Knight laid his hands on his sword. “We break that mirror. That’s the only way to save him.” “Huh!? You musn’t, Meta Knight!” Screamed Magolor. “That mirror is......Dimension Mirror is a precious mirror that can make everyone’s dream! You must not break it!” “That mirror has been smashed to pieces before. But we gathered its fragments and restored it. We’ll do the same this time as well......” “We have no idea if we can restore it or not! What are you gonna do if you can’t return it back to normal!?” “It can’t be helped then. Taranza will be in danger if this keeps up.” “The mirror is more important than him......!” Magolor, having slipped his tongue before he knew it, realized suddenly and sealed his lips. “That is your true motive, yes, Magolor?” “N......No......” “It doesn’t matter what your motive is right now. We’ll save Taranza in any case.” Magolor went silent and stepped back. “Magolor......” Kirby called out to him involuntarily. He wanted to ask if what he said right now was his true feelings or if he misheard it. But Meta Knight said quickly. “Let’s go, Kirby, King Dedede!” “......Uh-huh!” They have no time to talk to Magolor. Together with Meta Knight, Kirby made his way to the mirror. King Dedede too was about to ready his hammer, but-stopped moving, as though he was struck with an idea suddenly. “......Sire?” Waddle Dee looked up at King Dedede. The king ordered Waddle Dee, holding his hand out to him. “Hand over the papers and the crayons, Waddle Dee!” “Huh!? But this is......” “Since we reached the destination, we don’t need the Kirby Rocket anymore, do we? Now’s the time for King Dedede Rocket from here on out!” “H-His Highness Rocket......” Waddle Dee held tight onto the drawing papers and the crayons. The king approaches Waddle Dee with a frightening look......!

Meanwhile, Meta Knight and Kirby were taking aim at the mirror. Meta Knight raised his sword, while Kirby breathed in deeply and jumped up. But Taranza turned around before the two’s attack got through. “What are you up to-!?” Shouted Taranza loudly, where he protected the mirror with his six hands spread widely. Meta Knight drew his sword back just before he ended up slashing at Taranza. Kirby also spitted air out and landed. “What do......you think you’re doing......!?” Said Taranza in an eerily low voice.

“Snap out of it, Taranza.” Shouts Meta Knight. “Stop it......I won’t let you......pick on......Sectonia......!” “Queen Sectonia is gone. An illusion is all that you’re looking at. Open your eyes, Taranza.” “I shall protect her!” Taranza’s six hands swiftly stretched threads out. Kirby jumped aside in a hurry, but Meta Knight was a moment too late. The strings twined around Meta Knight’s limbs and deprived him of his freedom. “Meta Knight!�� Shouts Kirby. Meta Knight tries to cut the string in desperation, but Taranza’s threads are powerful. No matter how much he struggles, he cannot tear them off even with how nigh-invisibly thin they are. Taranza laughed in a gloating manner. “Kuhuhuhu......you’ll get to feel my power!” “Stop it, Taranza! You’ll be in danger at this rate!” Yells Kirby, but Taranza isn’t lending his ears. On the contrary, he turned his eyes filled with fury to Kirby. “You’re next!” Taranza firmly pulled his hands controlling the strings. Meta Knight raised his sword overhead and slashed at Kirby.

Kirby just barely avoided the sword. “......” Meta Knight once again stood ready with his sword in silence. Not only his body, but even his mind has ended up under the control of Taranza. Taranza is a ‘Master of Puppetry;’ an expert in a frightening magic that makes the opponent that he seized move as he wants. “Meta Knight!” Even Kirby’s shouts couldn’t bring Meta Knight back to his senses. Kirby is doing all he can to avoid his swift attacks. Taranza laughed out loud. “Uhuhuhu! Look, Sectonia. I really am helpful, see!” “Taranza!” Kirby was driven to the wall slowly but steadily. If he had a Copy Ability, he would definitely be able to cut Taranza’s strings and have Meta Knight come to his senses. But had no opponents to inhale right now. Meta Knight rushed at Kirby, having lost his mind.

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#kirby novels #kirby of the stars #light novel #translation #kirby rocket #waddle dee #king dedede #meta knight #magolor #taranza

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thesolitarystripe · 3 years

Text

A Strange Meeting

I got ahead of myself in posting Tindyl’s reunion with her guild. Of course, she had a little persuading from an unlikely source.

Some days passed after Tindyl was reunited with her beloved; they went about making plans to continue in their duty to aid Oribos and the rest of the Shadowlands realms. It was a daunting task when done solely as a pair, but, if Tindyl wished it so—the warrior would be steadfast in his promises. Their siege upon Castle Nathria to end the tyranny of Sire Denathrius was plotted delicately and the birth of that mission would occur in the later hours of the day, when the sun hung low and shadows of the dismal trees that littered the courtyard before the castle, stretched thin upon the ground. Hours before, Tindyl kept busy within the markets of Oribos—crafting potions that might give them even the smallest advantage over their foes. She frequented the vendors often, especially with how often she managed to drop her vials and lose them among the hundreds of Alliance feet that tread through those halls.

“Preparing for a battle, young one?”

A voice came from behind the Archdruid, one she could not place to anyone she knew but in its delicate tone, there was an odd familiarity. Tindyl turn on her heel, having concluded her business with the local alchemist and affixed her eyes upon the one that spoke. Another night elf, one whose face was not known to her eyes. It was a female, with shoulder length golden hair, tied tightly up in a large bun upon the top of her head. Two flaming eyes blazed against hers, soft and pale like the color of the moon. The women held one another’s gaze in silence until the older Kaldorei spoke.

“That doesn’t seem like enough to support any army,” her voice was slow and thick, like expensive honey dripping down the side of a golden jar. The woman stepped forward and dared let a single finger poke beneath the leather flap of Tindyl’s satchel, where she had just placed her potions. “Perhaps and army of four,” she shrugged, glowing us flicking up to behold the bewildered expression on the druid’s face. Tindyl knew better than to disrespect her elders but pulled the leather pouch away hurriedly and slapped a palm over the top of it to dissuade the woman from attempting to touch her items again.

“There are many factions within the Alliance, some work in droves—others prefer to work alone.” Tindyl kept her voice steady and smoothed out her features to appear pleasant again.

“Do you prefer it?” One golden eyebrow rose even further up from where it laid across the woman’s brow. “Tindyl, isn’t it?” The female crossed one arm across her body, holding her elbow as her other hand waved upward and tapped a single finger against her lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Tindyl pointed out hesitantly, uneasy that this woman knew her name and yet she was sure she had never seen her here or anywhere else upon her travels.

“I assure you; we have been young druid but, please, don’t stray from the question.”

This woman spoke with authority and stood with an aura of arrogance swirling about her. Tindyl could feel the power emanating from her counterpart but dared not take a step back, though her legs urged her to. A mage, no doubt. Swift eyes took notice of the staff that hung from her back, fire lapping at the blade as if it were made of wood—a spell of sorts that made the metal burn and yet it spread nowhere else. Who was this woman?

“Perhaps there was a time I preferred the company of others, but those days have since passed.”

“You were a guild leader, no? Have you left your people? Strayed from the flock?”

“Excuse me?”

“A small but mighty guild, with just enough heroes to make miracles happen and save Azeroth. Archdruid Tindyl, the fearless leader with nearly no experience in battle when she signed the guild charter—yet she found those willing to follow and even better, succeeded. Is that not you?”

Tindyl paused, her mouth ajar as her breath evaded her. “No…well...not anymore—I’ve left, you’re correct.” Now, she did take a step back, her confidence dissolving as it had so many times over the last several months. She felt backed into a corner, the high rising walls of Oribos closing in on her as she admitted openly that she was only a shell of her former self; to a stranger nonetheless.

“Why?” These were the first words the mage asked that did not feel as if they were being pressed into Tindyl’s throat with the point of a dagger. They sounded, caring.

“It’s a long story,” was all she could think to say as that tiresome lump formed in her throat. She had been so easy to cry these recent days and it bothered her so.

Silence fell between them. Tindyl’s eyes fell to the floor, her hands still clutching her leather pouch as her shoulders fell along with her resolve to look composed. Heat spread like wildfire across her chin so suddenly, Tindyl thought perhaps the mage had whispered some incantation upon her but her senses told her that it was only the feeling of skin on skin that touched her face. The druid watched as pale fingers had grasped her face, lifting her eyes back up to meet the warm glowing embers that intimidated her so.

“A story that I know; I only hoped you would tell me.” The mage again seemed soft in the way she spoke now, holding Tindyl’s jaw tenderly.

“News travels quickly,” Tindyl sighed, knowing well that rumors and gossip were not below even a hero within the Alliance. Her business traveled from ear to ear and yet none had bothered to come to her for insight into what had caused her to leave her beloved guild.

“Unfortunately, so,” the mage sighed. “I know it is difficult, young one—to be different. There are many that would seek to harm you for that sole purpose. People, beings, do not think like you do. They are not within these ranks to save the world. As difficult as it is to understand, there are some only here for power, greed, and self-gain. They will allow nothing to stop them from obtaining that end goal even if it means defamation of someone else. Betrayal. Lies, deceit! For every good soul, there are the damned ones. They will seek out the light in you and destroy it.” Her fingers clenched Tindyl’s face almost painfully, pulling her in closer. “You cannot let them win.” This came as a whisper. It was not a threat but between those breathy words, Tindyl felt the challenge within them.

“Why.” It was Tindyl’s turn to inquire. Despite the minor ache in her jaw, she peered up at the mage, eyes glistening as she asked the very question that plagued her mind daily. At this, the mage’s hand loosened and for a moment the druid thought the mage was about to pull her in and embrace her.

“My dear, if you spend you days asking that question, you’ll go mad within these very walls. There are so many petty reasons that drive men to act—it will only hurt you to linger on it.”

“Why are people cruel! Why join a cause so noble if your aim is to harm! Why risk your life if you do not care for the living that surrounds you?” Tindyl yelled, the anger that she fought to keep locked away within her pouring out into the face of this intimate stranger. “I’ve lost so much,” her breath hitched, and she looked up to stop the flow of her tears but they rolled defiantly.

“You are not the first Kaldorei to experience cruelty of the world, dor’elah. Many of us have been wounded over the many years that our lives span—it is what you choose to do with that pain, that will forge you.”

“What if I’m tired,” Tindyl’s voice came weakly, embodying the very words she spoke.

“Tired of what?”

“Being wrong.”

“Who says that it is so?”

“I imagine, everyone.”

“Do not let your imagination speak for you. We live based on evidence and tangible truths—who has said you are wrong? The ones that have left? So be it, let them run along with their thoughts because they are exactly that, thoughts. Just because it exists does not make it truth.” Tindyl’s eyes fell back upon the face of her elder, her jaw still nestled in that all too hot palm. “A hero would make nothing of themselves if they cared for what others thought of them, you would do best to learn that now at your age. I took was young when I learned that what others want, what they believe, will not always align with what is best for me. That does not make me wrong, does it?”

“No.”

“Then why does it make you wrong? Why have you allowed one treacherous man unravel you? Because his allies follow him blindly and hang off his promises like babes to a teat? Hold your head up Archdruid, remember who you are and where you come from. You were not born of weakness. Have your tears and be done with it. Fight for what you are and what you believe in. Dragons do not heed the opinions of the cattle that they eat.” Finally, she released her hold on Tindyl whose tears had suddenly dried. “So, what will you do then druid? Will you be undone by someone who holds less worth and integrity than an old haggard boot? Or will you rise upon the horizon like your precious Mother Moon?”

The mage took a single step backward as if to take her leave, her eyes hard upon the face of the youth before her; that edge to her voice returned in full. She eyed the druid up and down, taking one last look before she spoke plainly.

“Make your decision Archdruid and remember—” Her hand reached out, her index finger finding the hard ridge of Tindyl’s chin just enough to tilt it back upward. “Head up.”

The golden haired Kaldorei turned then and took her leave within a small part of other mages, their cloaks fluttered behind them, her companions deep in conversation. They were gone around the corner before Tindyl could speak.

“Min’da,” her eyes were fixed forward as the realization washed over her. She had never seen her mother, not in her cognizant years. Her father spoke so little of her and Tindyl never dared broach the subject. That familiarity, the way with which she spoke, the fire in her veins—Tindyl knew. The Druid jumped forward after the small party but as she rounded the wall and stood in the entrance of the hall, they were lost among the crowds. Laurel Moonwillow was a powerful fire mage who worked within the Alliance and even had ties within the Kirin Tor; she had left Tindyl and her father not long after Tindyl’s first birthday. Her appearance had changed from the few stories Bai’len had shared of her—once blue haired with eyes to match, cool toned skin and bright yellow eyes. The fire magic had changed her. That was no surprise, Tindyl’s father had harped on that for years and it was one of the main reasons he had wanted Tindyl to fight only with bow and sword. Even as a babe when her affinity for nature magic and druidism began to blossom—he baulked at the thought of his daughter becoming a user of any magic.

Tindyl’s mind raced with all that had happened. After searching the halls for any signs of her mother, she eventually gave up and retreated to the outer edges of Oribos again.

What will you do then druid?

Deep within her heart, Tindyl knew what she must do—but was her heart strong enough after all it had endured, was what worried her.

#wow oc #OC #World of Warcraft #creative writing #creativewriting #Author #Authortok #me writing #thesolitarystripe #Tindyl

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mimiswitchywrites · 3 years

Text

Not A Burden: Chapter 2

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

Materlist or read on AO3

1.9k words

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Lancelot was once again mounted on his horse with the girl leaning on his chest, though this time she seemed mostly conscious. After some riding, she turned round to face him, as best she could.

“What is your name, Sir Knight?” Her voice was still raw but she spoke firmly.

“Lancelot. May I ask your name, My Lady?”

She smiled at this, and he returned a small one. “Miriam. I believe I have heard your name before, maybe you have passed through a village I have stayed in before.”

“Have you stayed in many villages before?”

Her face dropped and she turned around, facing forwards once more. Lancelot, not fond of the idea that he had offended the lady – Miriam – apologised. “I meant no offence My Lady, I only thought that talking might make you feel a little happier, but I understand that I was wrong.”

She smiled once more, though he couldn’t see, and she took a deep breath. It still hurt to swallow and she made a note that, if she were to go through this experience again, she would avoid consuming something that would make her vomit as she had to the night before. While her arms throbbed, she was at least used to that feeling and could cope with it, but a throat that burnt as hers did was quite the inconvenience.

“I’m not offended, Sir Lancelot. My past is just not something that brings me much joy.” They sit in silence until she adds “But I appreciate the sentiment. What makes you happy, Sir?”

“Your insistence in calling me Sir certainly makes me smile.” She laughs at this, but it quickly ends in another painful round of coughing. He hands her his waterskin which she gratefully takes.

“You must have been on some fun travels as a Knight of the Round Table? You seem to be a chaotic bunch.” Now it is his turn to laugh, she doesn’t know the half of it. She enjoys the feeling of his chest vibrating on her back and lets herself lean against him a little more. It has been so long since she had been this close to someone so kind.

“You could certainly say that. Well, there was this one time that Merlin, the King and I…”

He told her lengthy tales of his and his friends adventures, skilfully avoiding all mentions of Merlin’s magic, and for the first time in months (or was it years?) Miriam felt content. Not happy, not by a long stretch, but her mind was quiet, and she felt safe against the kind Knights chest. Feeling safe is such an underappreciated sensation.

The sun had set before they stopped for the night which made setting up camp rather a difficult task, but Merlin managed, as he always does. He made a small fire with the help of a silent spell and prepared the evenings meal as quickly as he could before arranging everyone’s sleeping mats. He gave the girl his mat and she nodded her thanks in return. He was yet to check her bandages or even ask her name, but he wasn’t sure if she would want him to. She had been so attached to Lancelot (who could blame her though, he thought) that he worried she wouldn’t want to listen to him. He was no strong knight, and he was likely to hurt her a little as he cleaned her wounds again, so he thought it best to at least wait until she had eaten.

Dinner was well received, mostly. Gwaine, Merlin noticed, was still not all there and hardly touched his food. He decided to do something about it.

“After so long being friends, do you really think now is when I would poison your food, Gwaine?” After a beat, the Knight turned to his dark-haired friend and forced a pathetic attempt at his usual grin.

“What’s wrong? You’ve hardly talked since this time yesterday, and I know you didn’t fill your waterskin earlier.”

Maybe not a win then, Gwaine frowned.

“If you won’t talk to me then I shall just sit and keep you company, though I will have to tend the girls wounds once I have built up the courage to.”

“Miriam.” Gwaine murmured, his voice gravelly from so little use.

“Who?”

“The girl, her name is Miriam. I heard Lancelot call her that.”

“You’ve been listening to everyone talk, then?”

“Occasionally. Contrary to popular belief, I do listen.”

“I know you do.” They sit, watching the fire. “You should eat some more; you know how your head hurts and the world spins when you’ve not eaten enough.”

Gwaine grunts in response but eventually eats another spoonful, face scrunching up in response.

“It’s not actually bad, is it?” Merlin frets.

Shaking his head, Gwaine does his best to respond naturally, “No, not bad, eating just isn’t so appetising at the moment.”

Merlin stares at him, mouth open. Upon his loud exclamation of “What?”, the rest of the Knights look up at the pair too. Gwaine’s cheeks burn, not having the brain power to joke his way out of this one. He takes another large spoonful, forcing it down while making direct eye contact with Merlin. “There, happy?” He puts his still practically full bowl by the rest in need of washing and returns to his mat. “Now, if it is alright with you my friend, I would like to sleep so would you kindly remove your lanky arse from my spot?” He flashes the shocked Merlin a sarcastic smile and lies down.

The rest of the camp stares at the not-so-jolly Knight’s back and then at each other. This is rather an unprecedented situation. Even when mucking out the stables as punishment for creating chaos, Gwaine is still more, well, Gwaine-like than he is now.

Merlin, still a little shell shocked, sits next to Miriam where he asks if he can look at her wounds and does so in silence.

Arthur lay on his back, staring up through the canopy, with Merlin curled into his side. The boy had given Miriam (he liked that name, it suits her) his roll mat and so, as the generous king he is, Arthur had offered Merlin some space on his. It wasn’t weird, he was sure any of the other knights would have offered the same if he hadn’t got there so fast. Maybe, he began to fret, he offered too fast. Does it seem like he wanted the raven-haired man in his bed with him? It’s not like he didn’t want him there but not like that, that’s what the blonde told himself, anyway. Maybe, if he said it enough, he would believe it.

Miriam, sat on the other side of the dying fire, watched the King. She could tell he was worrying about something, the way he tapped his fingers on his stomach and sighed every few seconds made it obvious. After a while, the pressure in her bladder got the better of her and she stood, making her way further into the woods to alleviate herself.

The King removed his arm from around Merlin and stood, grabbing his sword and following her, gesturing for Percival to stay where he was on watch.

Miriam had an amazing ability to disappear, he thought to himself as he strained his ears to find her. Suddenly, as he turned to his right, she stumbled into him, hissing as she hit her left arm against his chest plate.

“What were you doing?” he demanded, eyes softening as he saw the tears in hers.

“Fucking pissing, I wasn’t aware I had to ask permission for that, Your Highness.” She bowed dramatically, and then hugged her throbbing arm into her stomach, heading back to camp and leaving a flabbergasted king behind her.

He watched her as she went, stabbing his sword into the dirt in frustration. He didn’t mean to be rude and he certainly didn’t mean to hurt her like that. It had been a long trip and hopefully, he thought, he could make peace with her before they got back to Camelot. Sighing, he pulled his sword back out of the dirt and headed back to Merlin and, more importantly, bed.

The next morning, Elyan woke to Lancelot and Arthurs hushed argument next to him. He listened without opening his eyes, wanting to get as much rest as possible before another long day of riding. Lancelot seemed angry at Arthur for shouting at Miriam and hurting her? No, that couldn’t be right, Arthur wouldn’t hurt an already injured enemy, let alone a female guest. He opened his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows so they knew he was listening. They continued on at each other:

“She should have told Percival where she was going!”

“Did you tell her that she needed to do that? Have you even told us that we need to give everyone permission to empty our bladders? I can say for sure that I don’t want to know every time you take a piss behind a tree, Sire.” Elyan bit his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh at how much Lancelot sounded like Merlin there. His snort didn’t go unnoticed, and Arthur dragged him into the heated debate.

“Elyan, help us sort this, Lancelot here thinks I am a terrible king—”

“I never said that, I said that you hurt our guest, scared her, and told her off for alleviating herself.”

“—and I think that is, quite frankly, bullshit. Thoughts?”

Elyan stared at the two, eyes jumping back and forth as he tried to figure out the best answer. Of course, he agreed with Lancelot – Arthur didn’t exactly have much in his defence – but he couldn’t exactly disagree with his King.

“Have either of you talked to Miriam since last night?”

They both faltered. No, then.

“Maybe starting there is a better idea than asking the person that has been awake for mere seconds.” And with that, Elyan stood, dusted off his trousers and turned to leave the camp, “I’ll be behind that tree, nature calls, I hope that’s alright with you both.” And off he went, rolling his eyes as he did.

The day was not off to a good start.

Miriam, having moved as soon as she saw Arthur approaching Lancelot (who had been next to her that night), was sat next to a sleeping Gwaine. Merlin was right, he did have a headache, and he was hoping that more sleep would fix this (it wouldn’t). Finally giving up, he groaned and sat up, jumping slightly as he noticed the girl sat by his feet. She was staring at Arthur, looking bitter, and anxiously picking at her bandages.

Gwaine took a deep breath, psyching himself up, and shuffled so he sat closer to her.

“Hello.” His voice was deep and shocked her out of her seething state. She turned, analysing him.

“Good morning. You are Gwaine?”

He nodded. “Miriam?” She nodded back.

“What has the Princess done to get you in such a state?” At her confused look, he expanded, “Arthur.” She nods, smiling.

“He’s rather a rude one, isn’t he?” Gwaine’s face lights up at this, it is perhaps the happiest he has looked for the last two days.

“He has his moments, that’s for sure,” he pauses, watching his King, “But he is actually quite the just king, if you can believe.”

She squints at Arthur, looking him up and down, and hums – not sure she does believe.

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

Text

Murat’s fateful decision

In the aftermath of Waterloo, Murat, having been consigned by Napoleon to a country house in Toulon in the weeks prior to the battle, suddenly found himself rendered a fugitive. A royalist mob murdered Marshal Brune; Marshal Ney was being hunted down; and the Marquis de Rivière placed a bounty on the head of Murat, who had advocated to save the marquis’ life over a decade earlier.

Realizing that his native land was no longer safe for him, the fugitive King of Naples--and having not abdicated, Murat still very much considered himself a king--planned his escape. His master of horse, the Duke of Roccaromana, and Murat’s nephew Bonnafous, made arrangements for him him to board a boat in the Bay of Toulon. Murat’s clothing and most of his remaining money—some 200,000 francs—were loaded onto the vessel in advance. The boat somehow ended up at the wrong destination. By the time the mistake was realized, a party of royalists hunting for Murat had boarded the vessel, “threatening,” writes Macirone, former aide-de-camp of Murat, “with horrid imprecations, that if they found the king, they would cut him in pieces.” Failing to find their quarry, they forced the vessel to sail off. Murat was now alone.

He wandered for days, deprived of food and shelter, constantly on the lookout for his pursuers. Finally he dared to approach a farmhouse; an elderly woman greeted him at the door, without recognition. He passed himself off as an officer of the Toulon garrison who had lost his way. While enjoying his first fresh meal in days inside, the master of the house returned. This man, a naval officer, did recognize Murat, but, to the king’s relief, swore to protect him from his pursuers and to provide him any possible assistance in making his escape from the country. Murat remained holed up in this house for several days, attended by the old woman, whofaithfully watched over him as he slept. On the 13th of August, a party of royalists descended on the house; Murat barely managed to conceal himself in time to avoid discovery. He was finally forced to conclude that the Allies had abandoned him; his hopes of receiving word from Paris to be taken under their protection were in vain.

The proprietor of the farmhouse had introduced Murat to three former naval officers, Captain Oletta and Lieutenants Donnadieu and Langlade. They pledged themselves to Murat, and, following the sale of some of Murat’s remaining diamonds, procured a small ship. On the night of the 22nd of August, the party set sail for Corsica. A violent storm nearly destroyed the vessel on the 24th. Spying another ship in the distance in the aftermath of the storm, they asked to be taken on board. It turned out to be the post packet which regularly sailed between Toulon and Bastia, and was then on its way back to Corsica. On board the packet, Murat met Mathieu Galvani, who had served in the Neapolitan army. Seeing that Galvani wore the medal of Murat’s Order of the Two Sicilies, Murat warmed to him quickly; Galvani would remain with the king, serving as his personal secretary, until being severely wounded at Murat’s side on the shores of Pizzo.

Arriving at Bastia, Murat made his way to the nearby village of Vescovato. The king and his entourage were warmly received by the mayor of the village, André Colonna-Cecaldi, the father-in-law of Murat’s former aide-de-camp, General Franceschetti. Franceschetti, recently retired from his service in the Neapolitan army and having resettled in Corsica with his family, would likewise remain attached to Murat for the majority of the rest of his days.

Corsica at this time was deeply divided between Bonapartists, Bourbonites, and pro-English factions. Unfortunately for Murat, the commander of the Bastia garrison, Colonel Verrier, was a Bourbon sympathizer, who soon resolved to deliver “Mr. Murat” over to the royalists. He requested Murat to visit him. “It will not appear surprising,” observes Macirone, “that King Joachim should have refused to comply with the summons of this madman.” The angered Verrier responded to this refusal with a proclamation to the people declaring Murat a “disruptor” who, “violating the laws of hospitality, wants to trouble your tranquility and expose you to the horrors of civil war.” He authorized a force of several hundred men to proceed to Vescovato and capture the fugitive, adding that those who “receive the pay of Mr. Murat, who directly or indirectly assist his maneuvers, will be arrested and punished as traitors and rebels.”

Verrier’s incendiary proclamation had the immediate effect of rallying hundreds of Bonapartists from all over Corsica to the defense of Napoleon’s brother-in-law. To avoid bloodshed, Murat decided to depart from Vescovato, and to proceed towards Ajaccio, the birthplace of Napoleon, where he would undoubtedly find more support (and security). He had, by this point, managed to procure enough money to send Franceschetti on ahead to hire boats for his planned expedition to Naples. The numbers of Murat’s followers grew as he traveled through the villages leading to Ajaccio. “From Vescovato to the birthplace of the Emperor,” writes Galvani, “the passage of the king had been a true triumphal march: all the villages were abandoned, entire populations were staggered on the road to see and behold the king, and the cries of viva Gioacchino! were incessant.” It was just the sort of adulation that never failed to turn Murat’s head, or to fill it with dangerous delusions. In Naples, he had never ceased to be intoxicated by the cheering throngs of the notoriously fickle lazzaroni; now he would find in the enthusiasm of the Corsicans all the encouragement he needed to embark on the enterprise which would spell his doom.

During his stay in Bocognano, he acquired some recent issues of the French newspaper Le Moniteur, one of which included a letter from King Ferdinand of Naples expressing his gratitude to Field Marshal Baron Bianchi for vanquishing Murat’s forces in the recent war. Murat, who had always taken the utmost pride in his Neapolitan army, bristled at seeing Ferdinand refer to it contemptuously as “the enemy bands.” “Is it possible,” Murat raged, “that a king can give to his own subjects such a withering characterization! To this beautiful army created by me! What a disgrace! What infamy!” He then proceeded to dictate to Galvani a twelve-page manifesto, which he intended to be read by the Neapolitan people, denouncing Ferdinand for his past atrocities and reminding them of “the numerous advantages that they had received during the few years that he [Murat] had governed them.” The proclamation would be reprinted en masse prior to hisdeparture for Naples.

Murat was in Ajaccio by the time his aide-de-camp, Francis Macirone had arrived in Bastia, carrying with him passports and an offer of asylum for Murat, from Metternich. Macirone learned of Verrier’s attempt to seize Murat, and was also informed that “great alarm prevailed at Naples, where it had been reported that an attack was contemplated by King Joachim, but that every necessary preparation had been made to repel it.” The captain who divulged this information to Macirone planned to send his gun-boats to Ajaccio in order to prevent Murat’s boats from departing. When Macirone informed him of the offer of asylum he bore for Murat from Austria, the captain conceded that, if Murat were to accept them, “he might be authorised to convey him and his suite to their destination” instead. Murat received a letter from Macirone on the 27th of September, imploring him to remain in Ajaccio until Macirone’s arrival.

Macirone reached Ajaccio the next day, as did Ignace Carabelli, who had formerly served Murat. Now, Murat was warned, Carabelli was serving as a spy for the Neapolitan police; Murat did not believe it, and met with Carabelli and Macirone (whom he met with first is disputed; Galvani says the meeting with Carabelli occurred first, while Macirone places Carabelli’s meeting after his own). Carabelli attempted to dissuade Murat from his intended expedition.

“Am I no longer loved by the Neapolitans?” Murat asked. “I know they prefer me to Ferdinand.”

“Yes, sire,” Carabelli replied. “You were loved when you were in Naples; today the Neapolitans say they love Ferdinand: you know them!”

The conversation continued. Failing to change Murat’s mind, and respectfully declining to follow him to Naples, Carabelli took his leave of the king.

According to Galvani, Murat’s private meeting with Macirone lasted around two hours. The primary subject of discussion was the Austrian offer of asylum. Metternich’s offer required the king to “take the name of a private individual. The queen having taken that of Countess of Lipona, the same is suggested to the king.” He “will be free to choose a town of Bohemia, of Moravia, or of High Austria in order to fix his sojourn.” Furthermore, he would be required to give his word to the Austria Emperor that he would not leave the Austrian states without the Emperor’s express consent. Though the Austrian offer of asylum did not explicitly require Murat to abdicate, Murat recognized in it not only a de facto abdication, but a benign form of imprisonment. Macirone’s initial optimism that Murat would accept the offer was short-lived. “I now had recourse to every argument and supplication in my power to induce him to accede to the proposal,” he records, “and I informed him that an English frigate waited at Bastia to convey him to Trieste. He replied, that I was come too late, that the die was cast, that he had waited nearly three months with the utmost patience, and at the constant risk of his life for the decision of the allies. That it appeared evident to him that he had been abandoned by the sovereigns who had so lately courted his alliance, to perish by the revengeful daggers of his enemies, and that he had at length resolved to attempt to regain his kingdom.” Macirone continued to plead with Murat to accept the offer of asylum, rejoin his family, and “await some favourable turn in the affairs of Europe, which might lead to the re-establishment of his fortunes,” but “these arguments were, however, of no avail.” Murat declared his intention of setting sail that very night. He granted Macirone’s request of issuing a formal, written response to the offer of asylum, “in which his real intentions regarding his expedition are disguised.”

Macirone was then invited to join Murat and several other members of his entourage, including General Franceschetti, for dinner. The subject of Waterloo arose. Murat “much praised the valour and discipline of the English troops,” Macirone says, “but he reprobated the manner in which the French cavalry had been employed and sacrificed. He then proceeded to demonstrate to me the manoeuvres and measures, which he said he should have directed and adopted if he had commanded the cavalry, and which he flattered himself would certainly have ensured a very different result.” Galvani recalls Macirone granting to Murat that he would’ve surely broken the Austrian and Prussian squares, but not the English ones. Amused, Murat repeated that he surely would have broken them. “This is not boasting,” said the king. “Europe knows me. I’ve never been repelled by an enemy square!”

After dinner, Murat and Macirone met privately once more. “Here I again took an opportunity of resuming my supplications to him to abandon his project,” writes Macirone, “but I found him immoveable.” Macirone succeeded, however, in convincing Murat to take the passport for Trieste, “in the fond hope that he might, during the course of his voyage, determine to avail himself of it, and abandon his hostile enterprize.” Murat then “observed to me, that the letter which he had just addressed to me, contained a deception, which he regarded as unbecoming to his dignity, and that it was his intention to address me another, in which he would inform me of his real intentions, and enter into some explanations concerning the motives of his conduct.”

“Captivity and death are to me synonymous,” Murat explained in this second letter. “I will not accept, Mr. Macirone, the conditions which you are charged to offer me. I perceive nothing in them, but an absolute abdication, on the mere condition that I shall be permitted to exist, but in eternal captivity, subjected to the arbitrary action of the laws under a despotic government.” He castigated the allies for whom he had “in a very critical moment decided the campaign of 1814,” and who were now pursuing him “with the overwhelming might of their persecutions.” “I have not abdicated,” Murat stressed. “I have a right to recover my crown, if God gives me the force and the means…. By the time you receive this letter, I shall be well advanced towards my destination. I shall either succeed, or terminate my misfortunes with my life. I have faced death a thousand and a thousand times in fighting for my country: --shall I not be permitted to brave it once for myself? I tremble only for the fate of my family.” Following the completion of this letter in Joachim’s hand, copies of it were transcribed by his secretary. Macirone then took his leave of Murat for the final time.

General Franceschetti likewise writes of having begged Murat to forego his plans to depart for Naples, and to accept the Austrian offer of asylum. “I represented to him a death without glory,” Franceschetti recalls, “awaiting him at the shore, his companions expiring at his feet, immolated for a desperate cause; alternately, I offered him the more flattering picture of his spouse and his children, of their tenderness, of their caresses, and I tried to open his heart to the delicious hope of this perspective.” His efforts proved as fruitless as those of Macirone. “I had the pain of seeing him persist in his design,” Murat’s former aide dolefully records. The king responded that he did not want to be “the voluntary object of triumph for the house of Austria, I refuse the asylum it offers me on such conditions; I will only see the queen again on the throne of Naples.”

The force with which Murat intended to land on the shores of Naples numbered 298 including the king himself, as well as Franceschetti and Galvani; this relatively small party of seamen, soldiers, and officers had been chosen from three times as many volunteers. Murat’s view of his popularity in Naples remained undimmed, and he was confident that the people would eagerly flock to his banners as soon as news spread of his return, just as the French had to Napoleon following his escape from Elba. The king was in high spirits, animated with the same indefatigable energy that always burned brightest on the brink of a desperate battle.

The doomed expedition set sail sometime between midnight and one o’clock in the morning on the 29th of September, 1815.

***

Sources:

-Atteridge, A. Hilliard. Joachim Murat: Marshal of France and King of Naples, 1911

-Colletta, Pietro, General. Histoire des six derniers mois de la vie de Joachim Murat, 1821

-Franceschetti, Dominique-César, General. Mémoires sur les événemens qui ont précédé la mort de Joachim Ier, Roi des Deux-Siciles, 1826

-Galvani, Mathieu. Mémoires sur les événemens qui ont précédé la mort de Joachim-Napoléon, Roi de Deux-Siciles, 1843

-Macirone, Francis. Interesting Facts Relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat, 1817

#Joachim Murat #the last days of Murat #1815 #history #19th century #today in history #Napoleonic

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junqkook · 5 years

Text

— LIONHEART; 01 (m.)

— notes; this is based on the bbc show merlin and arthurian legend, but isn’t the same world (aka not camelot, not england) and is instead its own fantasy world. also, a king’s ward is like an adopted son/daughter to the monarch. listen to the lionheart playlist.

pairing; jungkook/reader/taehyung genre; prince au, magic au, smut words; 11,104 rating; explicit

— synopsis; as a sorcerer, it is of the utmost importance that you keep your magic a secret from everyone. when you become prince jungkook’s servant, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep your identity hidden; especially when you fall in love with him.

contents; prince jungkook, knight taehyung, sorcerer reader, magic use, prejudice and discrimination, depictions of violence, pining, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!), creampie, dirty talk, dom taehyung, clothed sex, he fingers you with a glove on, overstimulation, teasing, marking/biting.

— chapters; one. two. three. four. five.

You fell in love with Prince Jungkook when you accidentally saw a moment that you knew was never meant for your eyes.

As a maidservant, you were rushing to grab a candle and some fresh water for your master, the king’s ward. It had been late, the sun already beginning to set, and the day had been tense and rough. There had been an execution of a sorcerer in the square, and the screams as he’d burned seemed to fill the entire kingdom.

The door had been cracked open and you’d seen him as you passed, his head ducked and hand to his face. It was never easy to watch the executions, and there had always been word spread between the servants about the arguments that took place between Jungkook and his father. The staff whispered about how the man accused of witchcraft had been a friend to the prince, and he’d asked his father for clemency but had not received it.

You thought he must be crying.

Without meaning to, your feet had stalled by the crack and your eyes caught on his dark hair, on the shine of his armor that he’d still yet to take off, on the hunched slope of his back betraying his exhaustion. You still didn’t know if you’d made a sound while standing there watching him, but soon after Jungkook had lifted his head from the warmth of his palm and his eyes had briefly met yours.

You scurried away from the door, your heart beating a frenzy in your chest from the sudden contact. The water sloshed over the rim of the cup onto your hand and you made sure to slow your pace, keeping the burning candle away from it so as not to put out the light accidentally and waste another trip.

Jungkook had not been crying.

You mused about the discovery, wondering if he’d even really seen you when he’d looked up. You climbed the steps quickly as you thought, finding your master’s chambers on autopilot and the guards barely even acknowledging you as you walked past and into the room.

“My lord,” you greeted quietly, nodding your head briefly.

Hoseok sat up in his bed and reached out for the water, which you gave him gladly. You set the candle on the table beside his bed and waited patiently as he drank. “Thank you, dear,” he said after making a noise of refreshment. “You’re too good to me, as always.”

“I am honored to serve you, my lord,” you replied easily, not missing a beat. It was always like this after an execution, with the nobleman laying awake in his bed and calling for you to bring him water and sit with him a while. It was nice, really. It was almost as if you were friends.

He hummed and handed you the nearly empty goblet. You took it from his hand and set it down on the table in case he needed another drink later. The king’s ward’s eyes were a little red and you knew from experience that he must have been crying after being forced to stand beside the king and watch the execution in full.

The prince hadn’t cried. How strange, you thought to yourself.

You hadn’t realized it then, but it was at that moment when your heart had been truly captured by the prince, with little defense against him. You hadn’t realized it then, but you had only just begun a fate that the gods had imposed upon the two of you, your paths destined to intertwine from long before you had been born.

Your thoughts were filled with the not-crying prince the entire night, even after an hour of sitting with Hoseok and after you’d gone to bed.

No one knew you had magic. No one knew that you were magic; you hadn’t practiced it simply for fun, hadn’t practiced at all, really. You’d been born with it, could do things no other around you could from the moment you had taken your first breath. Your small village had proved too stifling, too dangerous, and your mother had sent you away, sent you here to this castle for safety, and you knew better than to ever use your magic in the heart of the kingdom.

You’d kept your head down and served your master, finding said job quickly as a way to belong somewhere and keep an eye on what you would need to look out for. You hadn’t used your magic at all in a few months and you could feel it thrumming under your skin, coiling tightly from underuse.

At the moment, you had helped the other servants prepare for the banquet for a Lady that was coming to visit the king. The temptation to use your magic to hurry the process was almost overwhelming. You’d never felt a sizzling in your limbs from your magic similar to this and you couldn’t begin to guess why it was acting up like this. You stood behind one of the noblewomen seated at the large dining table, the noise level reaching obnoxiously loud levels. You blinked your eyes and refilled the wine goblet of the woman in front of you, making sure to keep the tremble from your fingers too noticeable as your magic swirled at the tips of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to wander, to find the dark hair atop the prince’s head, and watch him for but a moment. Even in a room full of nobles, he stood out like a beacon. Your fingers thrummed once more, twitching on the pottery in your hands. The prince did not look over to you, did not notice you, his smile firmly in place on his lips as he sipped from the goblet of wine in his hand.

Strange, you found yourself thinking again. Had you misread the situation in the room that you’d seen days before? You didn’t think so; as a servant and sorcerer, you’d honed your observation skills enough that you knew what you’d seen that day and you knew that you weren’t wrong.

You stepped forward to refill the goblets of the noblewomen once more, and something happened. Your magic seemed too restless under your skin, swirling through your organs as if to warn you of something. Time itself seemed to slow around you, no one noticing as their eyes began to droop and their limbs ceased to move. Before you knew it, everyone had fallen into a deep sleep, the noise abruptly disappearing.

Something sliced through the air and your magic exploded, eyes flashing gold as you stilled time itself, everything moving in slow increments in front of you. A dagger had been thrown from across the hall, at the end of the table. You saw it inching forward through the air and you followed its path with your eyes to the prince, seated with his eyes shut and head lolled to the side.

With a surge of panic you hadn’t known could take root inside of you, your magic burst from within you and undid whatever spell had blanketed the people in the banquet hall. They woke slowly as you moved, your magic already undoing itself as your limbs tired from keeping it held in place. By the time everyone had started to blink, time returning to its normal pace, your hands were fisting into the lapels of the prince and you were tugging him toward your own body.

“What—” he started to exclaim, but you yanked as hard as you could and he toppled half over the chair as you dropped down, the dagger missing him by only a few centimeters and lodging itself in the back of his chair.

All the noise faded away as what had just happened started to register with the nobles. Then, the king stood and pointed down the hall, his face twisting with rage. Your own eyes followed in the direction he gestured, finding the visiting Lady with her arm outstretched, her own face contorted from her failure.

“You!” the king roared. “Filthy sorcerer! How dare you make an attempt on my son��s life? Guards, restrain her!”

The Lady in question struggled against the guards restraining her, shackles closing on her wrists. You knew they had been enchanted to hold any magic locked within them, to render magic-wielders helpless. “You took my son!” she cried out as they dragged her away. “It is only fair! I will take your son so you can feel the grief that I feel! One day you will know what it is to—”

The doors shut as they dragged her away, her voice cut off. You looked up into Jungkook’s face, which was only a breath away from yours. Your hands were still fisted in the fabric of his attire, and his eyes were wide and focused on you. Flushing, you released him and stood straight, fully prepared to return to the shadows and serve the nobles around you.

“You,” the king said before you could move any further away. Your head shot up and you met his eyes. “What is your name?”

“____, Sire,” you replied quietly, ducking your head.

“Well, ____, you have saved my son’s life,” he continued, loudly enough for the entire hall to hear. Your cheeks felt hot and you kept your head dipped to avoid the stares. “I shall reward you greatly for this.”

“Oh, no,” you said, startled. “There is no need, Sire—”

“Nonsense!” the king interrupted, waving his hand to quiet your protests. “You shall be Jungkook’s maidservant from now on.” Before you or the prince could say anything, the king turned to face his guests. “Let us continue our feast!” And the noise resumed, everyone cheerfully eating and talking with one another.

Prince Jungkook fixed his seating position and cleared his throat, not looking at you as he gestured toward his cup. You quickly stepped to his side, making sure to stay a bit behind him, and took the wine from the other servant behind him. You refilled his goblet and stepped back, barely noticing how the thrum of your magic had settled, as if satisfied with the recent events.

You continued to serve him for the rest of the evening, your feet long used to the time you had to stand during feasts and celebrations. You saw Hoseok stand from his seat on the other side of the king and you met his gaze briefly, almost stepping around to leave with him. His mouth was turned down into a frown and he left the hall quickly, telling the king he was retiring for the evening.

Jungkook did not leave until late into the night, and you found yourself increasingly struggling to stay awake, having been long used to leaving and going to bed. By the time Jungkook chose to retire for the evening, many of the guests had already left, as had his father.

You followed the prince quietly, staying a few paces behind him in the empty halls. He stumbled a few times, and you knew it was because of the wine he had consumed, impairing his abilities as he walked toward his rooms. While walking up the steps he nearly missed one, stepping right on the edge, and tumbled back a step. You reached out and steadied him from behind, hands on his warm back as he righted himself.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly.

You said nothing, the air feeling odd and your magic once more swirling at the tips of your fingers, as if it wanted to reach out and touch him. You clasped your hands together tightly to keep back the urge, not knowing what you were meant to do.

When you’d reached his room, you slipped inside after him when he kept the door open instead of shutting it. You idled awkwardly by the door after shutting it, not sure what he meant you to do. Were you to undress him and ready his sleeping clothes? You’d done so for Hoseok for years, but with Jungkook it was different.

Seeming to realize your inner plight, Jungkook met your eyes from where he plopped onto the side of his bed.

“You can go,” he told you kindly. “I’m sure I can manage to dress myself this evening.”

You ducked your head. “Sire.”

“Make sure you are here in the morning,” he continued. “My schedule is much different than Hoseok’s and I’ll have one of the other servants explain to you what your duties will be.”

You nodded your head again. “Yes, my lord.” You heard him sigh and you peeked at him as you turned to leave. “Goodnight,” you said quietly, not sure if he really heard you.

Jungkook did not respond as you left, shutting the door behind you and wishing a good night to the guards outside as well. You moved quickly, going back to your own room, which was in Hoseok’s antechamber. You wondered if the prince would request that you move closer to him tomorrow. As you reached your quarters, you realized he’d known you were Hoseok’s servant. The knowledge that he knew you and who you served startled you, as you’d never thought he would remember any of the servants, let alone you. He was the prince.

You shook your head to rid the thoughts of him, trying to ready yourself for bed without the worry of how much more vigilant you’d need to be in order to keep your magic hidden now.

Hurrying, your feet pounded on the floors of the hall as you rushed past other servants and guards, ducking into passageways to try to get up to the prince’s chambers faster. Your hair was a mess and you couldn’t care less, having realized you’d be late no matter what from the moment your eyes had opened and the memories of the previous night sinking in.

You nearly slammed into the wooden door while trying to open it, stepping inside and shutting it behind you quickly as you caught your breath as quietly as you could. Your eyes fell on the prince, who was already seated at his desk and eating his breakfast, his brow quirked up. You tried to give him a smile, though you weren’t sure that it came out right.

“Late on the first day?” he quipped, tearing off a piece of bread and putting it in his mouth.

“I—I’m sorry, Sire, I—”

He cut you off with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I realize it must have been confusing for you. I’m sure Hoseok doesn’t get up until much later.” You nodded slowly, not sure what you should be doing or saying. Jungkook cleared his throat as he finished his breakfast and stood from his desk. “For now, attend me. I need to go out onto the training field with the knights.”

He rounded the table and you rushed into action, walking over to him to help him dress in proper attire for the day. He had his chainmail on the side and you made note of it as you helped Jungkook slip his sleeping shirt off. Your eyes roamed the expanse of his torso quickly and your cheeks felt hot as you hurriedly grabbed a thicker shirt for him to wear. You held it out for him and he followed your lead quietly, his eyes watching you curiously. Taking note of his gaze, you made sure to stay as professional as you could lest you embarrass yourself in front of the prince.

Once he had his chainmail on, he lifted a hand to stop you when you reached for his sword and helmet. You paused and looked at him expectantly.

“Carry them with you,” Jungkook said. “You’re to come with me to the training session and attend our needs there.”

You nodded your head and it took all you had to keep from twisting your mouth down into a scowl. You hated going to the training sessions; it was always hot, the sun beating down on you, and it meant you had to run around the grass to give haughty knights-in-training whatever they wanted. Hoseok hated it as well, preferring to practice his swordplay on his own or one-on-one with Jungkook, so you typically didn’t have to deal with those chores.

Now, it seemed, you would have to find a way to adapt.

You carried his sword and helmet, along with the other pieces of his armor, in your arms awkwardly whilst following him down to the training field. The training knights, along with other noblemen come to be granted knighthood from the king, were already mulling about the grass with their dulled swords. Jungkook raised a hand in greeting to them and you made sure to stay only a few steps behind him so you could hand him his sword.

When he finally stopped and turned to you, you stretched out your arms to offer his sword and helmet. He took them from you without a word, gesturing over to the wooden tables and racks, other servants standing beside them.

“Take the armor over there,” he told you. “I won’t be needing it today, so you can just polish it and make sure to keep the water full.”

You nodded. “Of course, my lord.” At his quick dismissal, you hurried off the field and over to the other servants, one of whom gave you a short smile. You smiled back at her and set the armor down on the table, sighing as you got to work.

Not able to help yourself, you continuously found your eyes dragging across the field to watch the knights. Many of them were young and attractive, laughs echoing as Jungkook trained them first-hand. Your eyes were drawn especially to the prince himself, who just so happened to be pushing his dark hair away from his face, sweat dripping down his neck. You pursed your lips and grabbed the water, making your way across the field to him when the knights started to take a quick break.

“Sire,” you said, appearing at his side. He turned to you with a startled look, not having realized you’d made your way over. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, taking it from you and placing the cup to his lips. He drank in large gulps, a few droplets escaping down the side of his mouth and to his chin. You followed it with your gaze, heat blossoming in your cheeks. He handed it back to you and you bowed briefly, beginning to move back.

“And who’s this?” a deep voice called, appearing beside Jungkook.

“My new servant,” the prince said easily, pursing his lips.

“She’s quite the beauty,” the knight replied, dark eyes focused on you. You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do; you didn’t like having this attention, it made you anxious. Your magic swirled in your veins like a stark reminder of why you would rather keep your head down.

Jungkook nudged the knight. “Taehyung, stop. Anyway, I hadn’t really noticed. And neither should you, you idiot, get back to training!”

You hated that the words stung; you didn’t want his attention, anyway.

The knight, Taehyung, reached out and placed an ungloved hand on your cheek lightly. Your eyes widened and you snapped your gaze to him, shocked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s prickly,” Taehyung faux-whispered. His thumb trailed lightly across your cheek.

The prince shoved at his arm, dislodging his hand from your face. You stayed rooted in place, unused to this type of situation, and moved your gaze over to Jungkook. “Stop bothering my servant,” he snapped, dark brows furrowed in a way you hated to admit had heat pooling in your belly.

Taehyung chuckled and winked at you, turning and jogging back toward the others.

You and Jungkook met eyes and neither of you spoke for a few beats of tense silence. “Well?” he chided. “Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

That snapped you back into reality and you ducked your head. “O-Of course, Sire. I’ll get back to them immediately.”

“Yes,” he responded harshly. “Yes, you do that.”

You walked briskly back to where the other servants were, choosing to stay there for the rest of the training. Though this time your eyes were equally darting back and forth between the prince and the knight.

“The tournament is tomorrow,” Jungkook informed you, allowing you to help him shed his chainmail and replace it with a suitable jacket. “There will be knights and noblemen from all houses coming to participate.” You fixed his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles as he talked, barely listening. “You will need to take care of any of them who ask for help, as many of them don’t choose to bring their own servants along with them.”

“Understood, my lord,” you replied easily, satisfied with how the jacket looked now. “The king and ward are awaiting you at the banquet hall to dine.”

“Have some of the men already arrived?” he asked.

“Yes. Many of them are getting prepared to dine with the king as we speak.”

“Good, good,” Jungkook said distractedly. He looked you over once, furrowing his brows. “Change into something cleaner and come attend me at the table.” Your eyebrows shot up. Usually you did not attend any of them at the banquet hall unless Hoseok specifically requested you to. When you didn’t answer, Jungkook paused in his stroll toward his door and looked back at you. “Is there some reason you cannot?”

You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Of course not, Sire. I will be there shortly.”

The prince nodded. “Good. Don’t take too long.” He smiled at you oddly, as if the two of you were sharing some secret that only he knew. “We wouldn’t want my goblet to remain empty all night, now, would we?”

You had to hold back an eye roll. “No, my lord, that would be of the utmost offense.”

Jungkook snickered as he left the room, calling back loudly for you to hurry up. You didn’t have to be told twice, almost breaking out into a sprint back to your own chambers and changed into a cleaner dress that didn’t have mud and dirt all over the hem from the training fields.

Sir Yugyeom had been giving you the strangest feeling all evening. Every time you looked at him, something about the way he held himself while dining made the hair at the nape of your neck stand up on end. You tried not to think about him, focusing only on refilling Jungkook’s wine as he instructed you to.

Which he was now ordering you to do. Your eyes snapped away from Yugyeom at the other end of the table and you stepped forward to the table, pouring the wine into Jungkook’s goblet slowly.

Leaning down as far as you could without seeming inappropriate, you lowered your voice so only the prince could hear you. “Sire,” you started slowly. “I think you should watch out with Sir Yugyeom.”

Jungkook turned his face only slightly, to give you an indication that he’d heard you without alerting anyone else that either of you were speaking. “And why is that?” he asked lowly.

You stopped pouring right before the wine began to spill, not wanting to deal with having to clean it if it did. “He just... He seems off. Wrong.”

Jungkook could barely hide his snort, drawing the attention of another nobleman seated beside him. He smiled at the young man beside him and waited until he turned away to turn back towards you.

“And I’m supposed to be suspicious of a knight based on a servant’s feeling?” he asked mockingly. “Just try not to think about whatever silly feeling you have. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You bit your tongue, tightening your grip on the pottery in your hands and nodding your head shortly. Stepping away from the table, you straightened your back and kept your mouth shut for the rest of the dinner, waiting alongside Jungkook to give him whatever he needed. But you didn’t take your eyes off of Yugyeom, his smile seeming too vicious for your nerves to rest.

After a while, Yugyeom excused himself from the table and bid the king and his family a good night and luck in the tournament tomorrow. You watched him carefully as he left and when he turned back briefly, your eyes met.

Something shot through you and it felt suspiciously like death.

You gnawed on your lip and tried to see where he went, but you could no longer follow him with your eyes as the doors shut. You glanced impatiently at Jungkook, but he seemed to be in no mood to leave just yet, laughing and joking with the people seated around him as he ate.

He gestured to you for more wine and you stepped forward, dipping low once more to speak to him.

“Haven’t you had enough wine, Sire?” you pressed. “It will do you no good to be incapacitated tomorrow morning.”

Jungkook whirled to look at you and you backed up only a few centimeters, not expecting him to be so close. He glared at you without malice. “Don’t dare to tell me what I can and cannot handle, ____. I will be perfectly fine for tomorrow.”

“Oh, be easy on her, Jungkook!” the man beside him said, surprising you as he got involved. “She’s just worried for her prince! It’s cute.”

Jungkook grumbled, but said nothing else to you. Glancing at the door, you decided now would be a good a time as any to ask for leave.

“Sire,” you said lightly. “May I retire for the night?”

“What?” he asked loudly, furrowing his brows as he turned to look at you again. “Are you—”

“I’ve much to do tomorrow to prepare, my lord,” you interrupted. “I’m sure the other servants will be more than happy to take over my duties here.”

The same man as before chuckled, patting Jungkook’s shoulder lightly. “Come on, Jungkook, let her go for the night. She is indeed a sight for sore eyes, but she’s probably been running after you all day.”

Jungkook sighed and waved his hand in your direction. “Fine, fine, you may leave. I expect to see you early for your duties tomorrow.”

You bowed briefly and tried to smile at them, not particularly enjoying the way the other man was watching you. “Thank you, Sire,” you said to Jungkook, handing the wine over to another servant and backing away from the table. You hurried over to the servants’ entrance and left the hall, walking as quickly as you could down the corridor.

Once you were out in the halls, it was as if you could sense it. Sense him. You walked slowly, following the tendrils of magic that you could feel in the air, knowing it would lead you where you needed to go. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you found yourself at one of the chambers for the knights, the door cracked shut. You knew the guards would be making their rounds soon and you let your own magic seep out to the door, push it slightly ajar without making a sound, before wrapping it around yourself like a makeshift shield.

You squinted in the dark, shifting slightly to try to catch sight of him. Yugyeom walked over to the bed, tugging his shirt over his head. You held your breath as you watched him, eyes catching on a jewel hanging from his neck. It shone brightly in the dim light from the candle and drew your gaze, as if compelling you to focus on it.

Yugyeom reached over and put on his sleep shirt, hiding the jewel from your gaze. He tucked himself into the bed and reached his hand out toward the candle, snuffing it out from afar. His magic felt—different. You couldn’t explain it, but your own rejected it, as if it were a poison trying to infect you. Barely able to stand it any longer, you brought your hand up and curled your fingers into a fist slowly, shutting the door quietly again; as if you’d never been there.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Yugyeom was going to make an attempt on Jungkook’s life. But you had no proof, besides the bad feeling, and you kept your mouth shut as you made your way to your quarters, an uneasy churning in your gut.

You hadn’t slept well at all, nightmares plaguing you as you lay in your bed. Flashes of visions, of Jungkook being struck down helplessly by Yugyeom, slid into your unconscious and you woke with sweat dampening your face and nearly choking with your magic, stuck in your throat.

You went to wake Jungkook early, preparing his breakfast on the table and getting his attire ready as he trudged over to his desk and ate silently. You could feel his gaze burning into your back while you worked, tidying up his room as he finished his meal and stood.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Jungkook said as he shrugged his shirt off and you handed him another.

You shrugged when you moved to stand in front of him, biting at your lip anxiously. He watched you do so with barely contained annoyance, before sighing loudly while you put his chainmail on him.

“Oh, for the love of—what is it?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s just—” You sighed, not knowing how to phrase it so he would believe you. “I think Sir Yugyeom is going to use magic to kill you,” you finally settled on saying bluntly.

Jungkook blinked at you owlishly before chuckling. “You know he’s a knight, right?” he asked incredulously. “Why would he do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I had a dream last night, and I saw—”

“You had a dream?” Jungkook interrupted. “It’s very kind of you to be dreaming about me, you know, but—” You rolled your eyes and mumbled something about his ego while you fitted his armor on his limbs. “—but I highly doubt a knight would be stupid enough to be using magic in a tournament.”

“Can you please just be careful?” you sighed. “I saw him.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes. I saw him do magic last night, after I left the feast.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you and you handed him his gloves, which he put on slowly. “So you left to go spy on a knight?”

“Sire, please,” you complained, nearly at your limit. “I was getting a—a really bad feeling, so I followed him and I saw him put out a candle from across the room. And he had a jewel that had to have been magical with him.”

Jungkook watched you seriously for a few moments, and then his door opened and Hoseok peered inside. You smiled at the king’s ward, who smiled back at you easily. You inched away from Jungkook, realizing that your distance might not be exactly appropriate after you’d already finished helping him.

“Kook, it’s time to go,” Hoseok said.

“Right, right,” Jungkook replied. “I’ll be right there.” Hoseok nodded and stepped back out, shutting the door again. You faced Jungkook, who was already looking at you without a hint of his usual haughtiness—though, you had to admit that his haughtiness was charming sometimes. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

You shook your head. “I would never lie to you, Jungkook,” you said quietly. “I know I’m just a servant and Sir Yugyeom is a knight, but I swear I saw him using magic and I fear his intentions are not for your good health.”

Jungkook seemed to deliberate on what you’d told him and nodded his head, sighing deeply. “Alright. I believe you.” He took his dulled sword from you and placed it in its sheath at his hip. “I’ll be careful when I fight Yugyeom.”

You didn’t have to reply as the two of you left, meeting Hoseok in the hall and all three of you making your way down to the tournament. And you knew that you would be watching vigilantly for any sign of magic aimed at Jungkook.

You’d seen Yugyeom’s magic use as the tournament went on, focusing on the way his fingers curled lightly or how his eyes seemed to shine bright for a few seconds, his opponent falling at the most inopportune moment. He didn’t seem to use it at first and you’d started to seriously doubt what you’d seen the night before, but as he advanced in the arena and his opponents became stronger, he had to rely on the magic he was using.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a flurry of strength and striking beauty. When he was in the arena, you couldn’t help but trail your gaze to him and the way he moved, seeming to effortlessly best the other knights and nobles that fought against him. Before long, the prince had advanced to the final round and—to your dismay—so had Yugyeom. Their fight was scheduled to be held in an hour, giving the two men some time to rest and replenish themselves.

You darted around awkwardly until Jungkook came over to his tent, where you followed him inside quickly. He sat down with a thud onto the chair, the lighting of the tent cascading onto him like honey, and you grabbed one of the towels on the table. You handed him some water and started to lightly dab at the sweat on his face and neck while he drank. Your eyes dragged across the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing as he swallowed, but you quickly focused on drying his damp hair as best you could.

“Yugyeom’s an impressive fighter,” Jungkook said, breathing heavily.

You made a face. “I know he’s using magic.”

Jungkook turned to give you a look, sputtering very un-princely when you shoved the towel right into his face to dry him. He batted your hands away lightly and there was a small smile on his face. “And how, exactly, do you know this so matter-of-factly?”

You shrugged one shoulder and tried not to fidget. “I just do.”

Jungkook sighed and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head lightly to himself. “Alright, alright.”

When you asked him if he’d like you to get him something to eat, he refused, saying he’d rather feast after he won. You stood beside him as he relaxed, wiping the sweat from his brow and working on cleaning his armor to keep yourself busy. You peeked your head out of the tent and saw everyone returning to the stands of the arena, you turned back to Jungkook.

“It’s time, Sire,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and stood from his seat. You helped him place his helmet on his head and then handed him his sword, following close behind as he walked to the arena. You stopped by the spectators, giving him a hesitant smile when he pivoted as he walked, knowing he was looking at you.

Your eyes found Yugyeom’s form, his helmet off and standing at the middle waiting for Jungkook. They shook hands briefly and waited for the king to start the final round.

“It is time,” the king announced, standing from his wooden throne in the stands. “You may begin. May the best man win!”

Their swords were up immediately, and you heard the clash of metal before you saw it. They were both moving so quickly that you almost couldn’t see what was happening. You made sure to keep your gaze completely on Yugyeom, not wanting to miss a single moment of his actions, even if it meant you had to tear your eyes away from Jungkook.

Jungkook ducked from a hit, lifting his shield just as Yugyeom’s blade came down on him. The loud clang as Jungkook pushed him back and gained the upper hand had the crowds cheering for their prince. Yugyeom stumbled and fell to the ground and—

There.

You saw his eyes flash gold for a second and Jungkook’s foot caught on a rock on the field, dislodging his balance. Yugyeom brought his sword up faster than you could follow with your eyes, but Jungkook jerked his head back and the tip only knocked his helmet askew. The prince threw down his shield and grabbed his helmet, yanking it off and tossing it aside so that he could see.

Yugyeom got to his feet, swinging his sword down on Jungkook. The prince quickly held his own up, blocking the attack. The audience was cheering loudly, but you stood with baited breath, waiting for the crackling in the air to come full force. You knew it was coming, could sense the jewel on Yugyeom rolling magic out in slow waves, like blood.

Jungkook had gained the advantage again, shoving Yugyeom back and nearly knocking him off his feet a few times. You narrowed your eyes and saw it again, a flash of gold from the knight as he overpowered Jungkook. The prince’s hands seemed to betray him, weakening under Yugyeom’s magic.

You felt your magic build up at your throat, crawling its way up to your mouth. You blew out the air, magic sprinkled along the wind, and darting its way to Jungkook. It wrapped around him like a coiled snake, making its way up his legs and thighs to his torso, slithering to his arms and ending at his wrists. Your magic pushed back against Yugyeom’s, giving Jungkook the strength of ten men as he shoved forward and knocked his opponent to the ground. Jungkook kicked the fallen shield away from the knight and held the tip of his sword at Yugyeom’s neck.

Yugyeom’s hands stayed still on his sides, looking up murderously at the prince. You took in a deep breath, allowing your magic to dispel from Jungkook’s form and dissipate in the air around him.

The king and Hoseok stood from their seats, clapping loudly. “My son, Prince Jungkook, is the champion!” Cheers erupted around you and you smiled widely, catching Jungkook’s gaze as he looked back at you briefly. His smile was soft and intimate, like it was meant for you alone, and you thought you must look silly with the grin on your face. He turned back to the others in the crowds, lifting his sword up into the air to signal his victory. After a few turns to everyone, he turned back and offered a hand to Yugyeom, who took it reluctantly and allowed the prince to help him to his feet. Jungkook brought the knight in close and said something to him quietly, something no one could hear, and the knight jerked back in surprise, eyes wide.

Even after they both left the arena and Jungkook gestured for you to follow him back to his tent so you could attend him, you wondered what he’d said to Yugyeom.

“You were great out there,” you said, grabbing the water and handing it to him. He drank in large gulps as you unbuckled the clasps of his armor and slid them off his limbs. You set them aside and fluttered around him, grabbing a clean towel and cleaning the sweat as much as you could.

Jungkook handed the water back to you and raised an eyebrow as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Just ‘great?’” he asked teasingly. “I would’ve thought you’d say something much more suited for your prince.”

You rolled your eyes when you turned away from him to set the towel down. “I’m sure the cheering crowds inflated that ego of yours much more than I ever could, Sire,” you replied lightly. Jungkook laughed heartily and you turned back slightly in surprise, staring at his expression unabashedly. His face was so young, so open and happy, and you suddenly wanted to do something silly, like press kisses to every inch of skin you could reach.

Clasping your hands tightly together so you wouldn’t, you cleared your throat and grabbed the chainmail, tugging it off of him.

“What did you say to Sir Yugyeom?” you asked lightly, trying to be inconspicuous.

Jungkook sighed and pushed his hair back away from his face. “Nothing you need to worry about.” You took the dismissal at its value, knowing that there was a very slim chance he’d tell you what he’d said. “Now, will you go ahead and get me some clean clothes? I still have to speak to the people outside and I’d much rather do so without stinking of sweat.”

You grinned at him. “I think the stink adds character,” you told him, barely able to hold in your laugh. He made a sputtering sound and looked around for something light to grab, settling on one of his gloves, making you yelp and laugh as you hurried to leave. “Of course, Sire, I’ll get going!” you shrieked, the giggles still tumbling from your lips as you ducked out of the tent.

“Yes, you best do that!” he called after you, and you could still hear his grumbling as you jogged away from the tent to go get him some clean clothes to change into.

And as you went, you’d heard that Sir Yugyeom would not be joining the festivities after, having told the king that he was needed back at his home immediately.

Jungkook groaned as you helped him shed the chainmail and his thick jacket underneath that he’d slipped back on when he went to greet the crowds and speak to the other knights and nobles that had stayed. He had fought the men hard and pushed himself harder during the fight with Yugyeom, and you were sure that his muscles must be sore. You didn’t dare allow your hands to caress his skin where it was exposed at the neck of his shirt.

“Would you like me to get some ointment?” you asked quietly, setting his chainmail aside.

“No, it’s fine,” he replied, stretching out his arms and stepping away from you. “Has my father dined yet?”

“Yes, my lord,” you informed him. “The king chose to dine with Sir Hoseok early, as your duties ran later than usual.”

Jungkook sighed. “Bring me something from the kitchens, will you?” he asked, going to his desk to read through the papers on them.

You nodded. “Yes, of course.” You grabbed the chainmail and carried it with you as you left, dropping it off in the armory before you went to the kitchen. You snuck a piece of bread and an apple for yourself while the kitchen staff prepared the prince’s meal quickly. You thanked them before you left, used to carrying Hoseok’s meals—he often ate in his own chambers, since he had many disagreements with the king.

You reached Jungkook’s room quickly, setting the tray with his meal on it down in front of him, and away from the documents. He thanked you quietly and began to eat. You bit your bottom lip as you moved around to the other side, placing yourself directly behind him. Jungkook’s eyes stayed focused on the document in front of him while he ate, and you slipped the ointment you’d grabbed from the armory out of your pocket. Dipping half of the contents into your palm, you rubbed your hands together and then placed them on the prince’s shoulders.

“What are you—” he shouted, startled, attempting to shift to face you.

You pressed down harder, squeezing his shoulders and working your hands on his skin. “Let me help you relax, Sire.” He sputtered for a few more moments, but you continued to work your hands on his shoulders until he finally relaxed, no longer tense under your fingers. You allowed your hands to slip under the neckline of his shift, working down his back. Jungkook stilled under your ministrations, his breathing deepening and evening out as you moved.

When you couldn’t reach any farther and felt you had massaged enough, you slipped your hands out of his shirt and brought them back to your sides.

Jungkook turned to look at you, mouth open and eyes glazed over. He looked open and vulnerable, and you saw a flash of the man through the crack of the door, the man grieving for a friend who received no mercy from his father, the man who saw past sorcerer to friend.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you whispered. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Jungkook’s face betrayed his shock for only the briefest of moments before it pinched up and then remained carefully blank. The look was so brief, in fact, that you thought you must have imagined it.

“Get out,” he snarled at you.

Your mouth opened and you couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “But—have I offended you—”

Jungkook stood from his chair, scraping it across the floor. You stepped back to avoid being knocked by the chair’s edge, wide eyes trained on the furious prince. Your magic licked at your insides, as if reacting to the force of his anger.

“Do not dare to assume you know me,” he spit out at you. “That sorcerer was a traitor—he was not my friend.” You did not move, fingers trembling so badly that you had to clasp your hands together to quell the shaking. “I said get out.”

“Sire, I’m—I’m so sorry, I did not mean to—” you started shakily, heart beating hard in your chest.

“Get out!” he yelled, slamming his fist down on the table.

You lowered your head, too afraid to hold his gaze, and fled the room, not stopping your run until you were safely back in your own quarters. You shut the door as quietly as you could with quivering fingers, your breath coming out in shaky pants, and turned to press your back to the wood.

You met Taehyung’s eyes and yelped, nearly shooting up five feet into the air.

“What’s got you so startled?” the knight joked, standing from where he was seated on your bed. You blinked a few times, trying to understand both what had just happened and what he was doing in your room. “I asked around and found out you were staying here,” he said in way of explanation. “How did you manage to become Jungkook’s servant when you were already Hoseok’s?”

“I saved Prince Jungkook’s life at the banquet,” you said numbly.

Taehyung’s brows shot up. “A servant against a sorcerer out for revenge?” he asked. “How noble of you.”

You’d known. You’d known she was a sorcerer; having him say it out loud made you want to hurl what you’d eaten right back up. You were a traitor to your own kind, a traitor that would be condemned by both sides of this on-going war.

You were not noble.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung said gently, coming close enough to bring his hands up to your face. He held your gaze and your cheeks, not allowing you to look away from him and not allowing you a place to escape, your back against the door. “You look sick; are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, just as quietly. “I’m just not used to running around so much. Sir Hoseok is much less active than the prince.”

Taehyung chuckled and released you, stepping back. “I’m sure that’s perfectly true.” He watched you a few more moments, as if he didn’t quite believe you but thought better of pressing the issue.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him, when the silence became too much, reminding you of how you had condemned that sorcerer to death by stopping her, when she had only been grieving for her son—her son, who had been the prince’s friend, who had been a sorcerer himself and hidden it, betrayed—

“It’s quite embarrassing, actually,” the knight said, clearing his throat and looking away from you. “I came to—inquire if you would—well, if you would—”

“Warm your bed?” you interrupted, amused.

In the dim light, you could see his cheeks darken and he coughed into his gloved fist. “You put it so crudely!” he complained. “But, well, yes, if we’re going to be completely honest about it. I find you quite the beauty and would be honored to be intimate with you.”

“But you’re a knight, and I’m a servant,” you explained for him. “So it cannot be a courtship.”

“You misunderstand,” he said, holding out a hand to stop you. “I do not regard titles as a way to lift myself higher than others. I simply thought this the best option for any relationship between us at the moment.” He paused and looked at you shyly. “That does not mean it could not lead to a courtship later.”

You hummed. “And if I do not desire a courtship with you?”

Taehyung looked startled for only a quick moment, schooling his features back into a sly smile. “I highly doubt that to be the case, my lady, but I will never do anything you do not wish me to do.” His smile fell from his face and his eyes bore into yours, the atmosphere becoming much more serious than it had been just a few seconds ago. “That applies to sharing my bed, as well. If you do not want it, feel free to tell me so and I shall not hold it against you.”

You bit your bottom lip and then stepped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He watched you hungrily, his hands firmly at his sides as you retracted. “And if I wish to share your bed?” you whispered, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes.

“Then I shall ravish you completely and leave you wanting no other but me,” he whispered back, leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. His hands came to grope at your hips, turning you how he desired and nudging you back until you were at the foot of your bed, dropping you back onto the mattress and following suit.

Taehyung straddled your thighs and dipped down to kiss you again, his tongue swiping at your lip. You parted your lips readily, allowing him to greedily lick into your mouth like a man starved. His hands moved to grab at your skirts, shifting himself to place his knees between your legs while you spread them for him, aiding him in lifting your dress.

The knight moved down your body, lifting his hands to undo your flimsy corset as he went, ripping it open and pressing his open mouth to the swell of your breasts. You threw your head back and let out a shaky breath, bringing your hands up to cradle his head and tangle your fingers in his hair. You couldn’t help the rocking of your hips up into his when he sucked harshly on your skin, biting down gently and continuing.

One of his hands lowered between your thighs, his gloved fingers finding your undergarments easily. Your breath hitched when he pressed two of his fingers against you, rubbing them up and down. The fabric clung to your folds, already soaked and ruined.

“Wet already?” Taehyung purred. “I haven’t even begun.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him as coyly as you could with your harsh breaths and heaving chest. “Then begin,” you commanded.

“As my lady wishes,” he growled, leaning close to your lips and nipping at your bottom one. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your lips, a squeal tearing out from your throat when he dipped two gloved fingers into your undergarments and pressed the pads to your folds. He rubbed them over your slit deliciously, the rough exterior of the glove making you shudder, more arousal pooling onto them. He simply raised a brow and then slid one of them inside all the way, curling it when it was in to the knuckle.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan, your back arching. You clenched around the finger, the unfamiliar texture only adding to the pleasure starting to spike at your abdomen. He pressed a second finger inside and rubbed them along your walls, as if searching for something. You tightened your grasp on his hair and grit your teeth to stay quiet, allowing your hips to rock slowly into his hand. Taehyung’s thumb found your clit and he rubbed it roughly, still working his fingers inside of you.

“Please,” you whimpered, your movements erratic. “Please, I need more—”

“You need more?” he cooed, tone mocking as he moved his fingers inside of you, thumb still rubbing rough circles against your clit and making sweat bead at your temples. “What more do you need, sweetheart?” he whispered, shifting his head down toward your belly.

“Your mouth,” you panted. “Please, I need your mouth—”

“Oh, you need my mouth?” he interrupted, smiling wickedly at you. “I’m sure you could get off with just my fingers, my lady,” he continued.

You whined and he shoved his fingers in harder, your noise straining at the movement. Your back arched off the bed and you felt too hot, your dress almost completely constricting around your body. His fingers found the rough patch of nerves inside you and your moan came out loud and broken, and you clenched around his fingers. Noticing, he pressed up as hard as he could on that spot, not letting up any pressure, and his thumb pressed harder onto your clit until the pleasure was almost too much for you to handle.

Your release snapped over you, the pressure unleashing and you gasped for air at the intensity of it. You rode out your high on his fingers, moving your hips slowly as you started to come down.

Taehyung pulled his fingers out of you and dragged your undergarment halfway down your thighs. You were clenching sporadically around nothing, the sudden emptiness jarring, and he brought his mouth down onto you, pressing his tongue to your folds and swiping up your slit.

One of your hands found his hair again and gripped tightly, squeezing around nothing. The knight moved his lips on your folds, tongue darting out to lick up your arousal and the lewd slurping noises paired with his groans had another bout of heat pooling in your belly. You moaned and pushed yourself closer to his face, wanting nothing but his tongue.

Your hips rolled erratically and Taehyung brought his hands up to your thighs, gripping them tightly and shoving them open farther. He held them down to the bed while he pressed the flat of his tongue to your clit and allowed you to move as you pleased. One of his hands was sticky and wet where it touched your bare skin and you shuddered, your movements gaining in speed.

A second orgasm rushed over you, pleasure spiking through your veins like static. It was so close to the first that a tendril of pain rushed in with the ecstasy. You could feel your magic build up within you and your throat clogged up, your breaths strained and broken with your attempt to hold it in place. You knew your eyes must be giving your struggle away and you shut them, riding out your release with Taehyung’s tongue pressed to your folds, and attempting to focus on containing the excited burst of magic trying to escape you.

When the pleasure faded and you were still choked up, eyes clenched tightly, Taehyung licked lightly at the mess you must have made, the obscene noises traveling to your ears. Your magic was burning inside you, making everything feel too intense and every brush of the knight’s tongue on you had you shivering and wanting to pull away but simultaneously push against him harder.

With a last shuddering breath, you allowed yourself to open your eyes and the magic inside you quelled, swirling inside your limbs unhappily. You blinked blearily at Taehyung, who was bringing his head up from between your thighs with a messy smile on his face.

“Are you going to fuck me or what?” you asked breathlessly, giving him your own wicked smile.

He chuckled and crawled up your body, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth before sitting up. Taehyung undid his belt, shoving his pants down his thighs along with his undergarments. Your eyes trailed down to his cock, hard and erect and much larger than you thought it would be. You licked your lips and couldn’t help but allow your thighs to spread wider, as if beckoning him to come closer.

Taehyung groaned and knocked his knuckles lightly into your knee. “Don’t do that,” he chided. “You’re going to make me lose my mind, you know that?”

“I’d rather you be losing something else, and preferably inside me,” you purred, pushing yourself up to help him take his shirt off, greedily wanting your hands all over his toned chest.

“You’re a dirty girl, for a royal maidservant,” he joked lightly, leaning down once his shirt was completely off. You grabbed his gloves and tugged them both off, tossing them over the side of your bed to the floor. One of his now-bare hands came to brush your cheek lightly while the other moved down to pump himself a few times. He looked down between your bodies and brought the head to press against your slit, rubbing it tantalizingly slowly up and down. Pulling back after a few times, he used your slick to spread up and down his cock and you bit the inside of your cheek when you could feel arousal dripping down yourself and surely ruining your sheets.

Taehyung finally took mercy on you and brought the head back to your folds, pressing harder than before and sliding into you slowly. You shuddered and clenched around his cock as he pushed deeper inside. The burn from the stretch of his cock was sending small tendrils of pleasure through you, tangling with your magic in the most pleasant way.

When he was completely buried inside of you, you let out a low moan, clenching around his cock tightly. Taehyung groaned from above you and lowered himself to his elbows, which were right beside your head. The action brought his face closer to yours and he gave you a charming smile while he panted, holding himself still inside you while you adjusted. You leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, pecking it lightly and then laying back down.

“You really are a beauty,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “The prince is lucky to have the privilege to look upon you so often.”

The thought of Jungkook had different feelings coming up inside of your chest. The memory of how defeated he’d looked, the memory of his skin under your hands, the memory of him shouting at you—

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “Fuck me until I can’t breathe, Taehyung.”

He peered into your face questioningly for but a moment before he tilted his head to the side with a sly smile, as if he’d realized something. “I am at your disposal, my lady,” he purred, pulling his cock almost all the way out of you.

Then he shoved back in and started a brutal pace, knocking his hips into yours punishingly. You wrapped your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin and met every thrust with your own. Taehyung lowered his mouth to your neck and bit hard, sucking at the flesh until it hurt and you squeezed around his cock like a vice.

Your eyes fluttered open as he rolled his hips into you harder, his mouth working up and down your neck and his hands fisted in the sheets beside your head. The ceiling looked back at you and your magic swirled at your fingertips, begging to be released. You tried to hold it back, but a candle by the door flickered to life and you moaned, the trickle of magic seeping down to your abdomen as Taehyung’s cock dragged against your walls.

His heavy grunts filled your ears along with the slapping of his skin against yours and you rocked into him harder, faster, selfishly chasing your release. His fingers dragged roughly down your dress until he reached your hip, and then he pressed them into your bare skin hard enough that you were sure he’d leave bruises. Gasping, you arched your back and threw your head back, pleasure swimming through your veins and making you almost careless.

Taehyung’s fingers finally moved to your clit and he rubbed it a few times before sliding his hand down to your folds, dragging up and down them around his cock which was pistoning in and out of you harshly. You keened and he brought his fingers back to your clit, now slippery with your arousal. He was relentless in his movements, and then he shifted his hips slightly upward and the head dragged against your sweet spot.

“Oh, fuck—right there, Taehyung, right—”

“Yeah?” he groaned, chuckling as he aimed for the same spot, rubbing the head of his cock against it repeatedly. “You like that?” You nodded your head, but he slammed in harder and held himself still. You swore you could see stars with his cock pressed into you like that. “Is your cunt hungry for my cock?”

“Yes, yes—gods, please, I—”

Taehyung was grinding his hips against yours, keeping himself buried completely inside your walls. You clenched once and then shut your eyes as your release washed over you again, spikes of pleasure and tingles running through your abdomen to the rest of you. You tried to hide your face as best you could, unable to hold back from your magic lashing out of you this time.

You grabbed Taehyung quickly and brought his face down to yours, kissing him hungrily. He made a noise of surprise and then kissed you back, starting to move once more. You gasped into his mouth as the overstimulation took hold, but the pleasure soon started to build once more as his cock moved in and out of you. You allowed your eyes to open and your magic darted from your fingertips immediately, shaking you to your core. You could see all the candles lighting up around you, basking Taehyung’s tan skin in a dim golden light that somehow made him more beautiful. You were just thankful that the kiss had distracted him enough to close his own dark eyes, unable to see the gold swirling in yours as your magic released around the two of you.

After another few dozen strokes, Taehyung slowed his pace and pulled away from your mouth to breathe heavily, his cock twitching inside you. He shoved his cock as deep as he could into you and then emptied himself inside, spurts of his come filling you. You shut your eyes at the feeling of his release warming your walls, another weaker orgasm hitting you like a wave.

Groaning, you brought his face down to your neck, shuddering from his kisses as he rocked gently inside of you while you both rode out your highs. You kept your eyes open and swallowed as you tried to tame back the magic running freely, the fire from the candles growing higher and higher as Taehyung panted against your skin. He started to lift himself up and you held him tighter, wrapping your legs around his hips to keep him inside. As quickly as you could, you let your magic reign freely once more, snuffing out the candles in the room except for the one by the door, and then dragged it back inside. Once you were sure there would be no more golden hue to your eyes, you relaxed your grip on the knight and allowed him to sit up.

He pulled his softening cock out of you, his seed mixed with your arousal and release dripping out of your spent pussy. You were breathing as heavily as he was and he simply looked at you, smiling gently.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Something tugged at your insides and you allowed yourself to smile back, though you weren’t sure how it appeared to him. “You’re just saying that because I’m fucked full of you,” you teased.

Taehyung grunted and brought a hand closer to your forehead, flicking you lightly and laughing at your offended yelp. “Don’t say that, you’ll get me rearing and ready to go again.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “And who ever said that wasn’t what I was hoping for?”

The knight laughed heartily and dropped beside you on the bed, laying down completely. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you snugly to his chest. “Let’s sleep a bit, first, and then we can see about another go at it. What do you think of that?”

You made no mention of how he had invited himself to your bed for the night and simply allowed him to keep hold of you. “Goodnight, then, Sir Knight,” you joked, though a bit of something genuine slipped through your words.

There was a huff of breath against the back of your neck and you assumed it was a light chuckle from his end. “Goodnight, my lady,” he murmured, and somehow you knew he had heard you perfectly.

You woke to a banging on your door and then it was being thrown open. You sat up in your bed, surprised at the sudden intrusion. Taehyung’s arm slipped away from your waist and he was sitting up beside you, already half off the bed.

You met Hoseok’s wide eyes, the light from the hall brightening your room and leaving nothing to hide from his view.

“The knights,” Hoseok said, eyes darting between you and Taehyung, who was busying himself getting dressed. “The knights have fallen ill.”

You fixed your dress as much as you could and stood from your bed, running a hand down the cloth. Taehyung, having finished getting dressed, grabbed his sword and belt and walked over to Hoseok quickly.

“The cause?” he asked, fixing his belt and looking completely unbothered while you stood nervously fidgeting, heat blossoming in your cheeks at being caught by Hoseok.

“Magic,” Hoseok said solemnly. “It’s magic, and we don’t know how it’s spreading.”

Your heart dropped and you watched the two of them leave, fixing your dress as best you could before running after them, realizing the king would be holding an audience to discuss what had happened.

A feeling of dread slipped into your belly and wrapped its claws around your heart, trying to drag it down.

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drkcnry67 · 4 years

Text

Sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

A/n: this is for 4 different bingo challenges... hope people like this one! Show it some love if you loved it.

Title: sleeping beauty: a twisted supernatural fairytale

Pairing: dean x reader

Spn Dark sq: free space (shadow/fear demon)

Share the love bingo sq: sleeping beauty

Fluff sq: soulmate AU

H&H sq: Gabriel

Rating: pg-13

summery: not telling

created for @spnfluffbingo @spndarkbingo @heavenandhellbingo @thisismysecrethappyplace

Once upon a time in a kingdom oh so far away lived a king & his fair queen. for many years they had longed for a child & finally their wish was granted.

a daughter born to them whom they called YN. for they named her after the dawn for she filled their hearts with sunshine. a great holiday planned to honor the princess for the entire kingdom rejoiced at her birth.

as more people graced the party, the party got stronger. amongst those to arrive were King John & his son Prince Dean. fondly had these monarchs dreamed that one day their kingdoms unite.

thus that day they announced Dean, John’s son and Heir to Castiel’s daughter be betrothed. so to her his gift he brought as he looked unkowing on his future bride.

Page: their most honored and exalted excellencies, the 3 good fairies. Mistress Claire, Mistress Jo & mistress Alex...

the 3 fairies approached, now addressing Castiel and his queen.

Fairies: your majesties!

in courtly fashion they all curtsied.

Claire: each of us the child may bless with a single gift, no more no less.

claire approached the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Claire: little princess, my gift shall be the gift of beauty...

~one gift, beauty rare. full of sunshine in her hair. lips that shame the red red rose. she’ll wake with springtime wherever she goes.~

Jo was next to approach the craddle, with a wave of her wand she spoke these words.

Jo: tiny princess, my gift shall be the gift of song.

~one gift, the gift of song. melody her whole life long. the nightingale’s her troubadour. bringing her sweet serenade to her door.~

Alex stepped up to the craddle, she walked and raised her want tostart her speech but something soon would disrupt her wish.

Alex: “sweet princess, my gift shall be...

a gust of wind blows blazing through the castle doors, they swing wide open. with wind and thunder crashing through, in a blaze of fire in the middle of the crowd appeared Rowena.

Claire, jo and Alex all in states of shock at the sight of Rowena who speaks now.

Rowena: well quite the glittering assemblage King Castiel. Royalty, nobility, the gentry and how quaint even the rebel.

alex tries to fly towards Rowena but is held back by Claire.

Rowena: i really felt quite distressed at not recieving an invitation

Alex now more than a little peaved speaks.

Alex: you weren’t wanted.

Rowena: not wa...? oh dear, what an awkward situation. i had hoped it was merely due to some oversight. well in that event i’d best be on my way.

queen: and your not offended your excellency?

Rowena: why no your majesty. and to show i bear no ill will i too shall bestwo a gift on the child.

the fairies back up to protect the craddle.

rowena: listen well all of you! the princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know her. but, before the sun sets on her 16th birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel & die.

queen: oh no!

queen takes her child in her arms as rowena maniacly laughing...

castiel: seize that creature!

rowena: stand back you fools!

in a flash of fire and lightning as well as laughter rowena disappeared!

Claire: dont despair your majesties, Alex still has her gift to give.

Castiel: then she can undo this fearful curse?

Alex: oh no sire.

Jo: Rowena’s powers are far too great.

Claire: but she can help.

Alex: but...

Jo: just do your best dear!

Claire: yes...

Alex rolls up her sleeves and proceeds to speak her part.

Alex: sweet princess, if through this wicked witches trick a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still maybe in this, the gift i give to thee. not in death, but just in sleep the fateful prophecy shall keep, and from thy slumber thee shall wake when true loves kiss the spell shall break.

~for true love conquers all~

but castiel still fearful of his daughter’s life, did then and there decre that every spinning wheel on that very day be burnt. so it was done!

~this is the first jump out of fairytale reality and into our own reality where dean is picking up watching this classic fairytale & trying to get some shudeye.~

dean: if i have one more flippin’ dream about this movie im gonna kill someone.

sam: dont worry about it Dean, its not gonna get better with you yelling & screamin’... now try to get some sleep! we have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow!

Dean: yeah your right.

Dean throws his headphones on again trying to coax himself into a relaxing sleep. which Gabriel had set so Dean would not wake from his sleep till the story would finish, then his destined quest would begin.

Gabriel: sweet dreams Dean. you have a really rude awakening ahead of you... everything you know is about to change...

gabriel casts his curse & leaves dean to his tormented slumber that which awaits him.

~jump back into the story, where we find the 3 fairies talking with Castiel and the queen~

Claire: your majesty please consider this a kind of protection detail, this will allow your sweet YN to grow up in peace without the worry of her pricking her finger when her 16th birthday hath fully passed your sweet YN will be returned to you. to ensure the curse does not come true.

queen: you 3 have always been here even when we havent always honored it, we do so appreciate your loyalty and protection. this has surely been a trying day for us and we are honored to have you 3 commited to helping us protect our daughter.

Castiel: and it is on our honor that, you 3 shall go with our blessing. please be careful & guard our child well...

many hours later after dark, the king and his queen watched with heavy hearts as thier most precious possesssion their only child disappeared into the night..

many sad and lonely years passed for King Castiel and his peopple. but as the time for the pincess’ 16th birthday drew near, the entire kingdom began to rejoice. for everyone knew that as long as rowena’s domain, the forbidden mountains, thundered with her wrath and frustration her evil prophecy had not yet been fullfilled.

rowena yells at her incompetant servents, they encur her wrath. rowena sends out her own raven to search for the princess.

and so for 16 long years, dean had been learning how to live life as a prince. while the wereabouts of the princess remained a secret, the faires carried out their long laid planes living like mortals.

the fairies send Yn to collect some berries while they argue about the kind of last birrthday party they wish to give her, the dress color the cake and the cleaning something extra special for their last night as her guardians.

YN decides to stop in the glen... she feels like something is wrong thats when your real self breaks through...

YN: omg what am i doing in here?

as you keep singing you try to remember wht happened to put you in here. sure was your fave movie but it was not how you wanted to live.

Dean was riding Chuck the horse, the scene still happens the singing in the glade, dean hearing your singing following the animals that are stealing his cape, boots and hat.

your still singing by yourself but now kinda talking to the animals. after that kind of normal conversation you notice that some of your animal friends have come back dressed as a prince. you started singing and continued to dance with your animal friends, but thats when Dean had snuck up and hid in the bush, he waited for his oportune moment.

YN: but if i know you, i know what you’ll do, you’ll love me at once... the way you did...

thats when your vocals were interrupted by another voice to complete your song.

Dean: once upon a dream.

though it wasnt exactly ideal, your hands interacting, it felt more real than you had this entire time. waltzing through the glade by the lake, made your real self shine through. Dean could feel his real self shine through as well.

Dean: are you real?

that question made you look at him instantly. another person whose not really the character he is pretending to be.

YN: you’re real... your an actual person, not just a fairytale character?

Dean: yes, i’m real, what’s your name?

YN: YN, outside this ever turning story book fairytale movie thing im a hunter.... this story just keeps repeating itself everytime someone watches this movie. i have no idea what the hell put me into this neverending storybook. im annoyed greatly but strange thing is i can’t feel any connection right now to my actual body...

Dean: im a hunter as well. my name is Dean. i hunt everything that goes bump in the night from ghosts to demons and everything in between. i am also not sure how i got in here.

YN: your a hunter as well... i thought i was the only one.

Dean: whats the last thing you can remember before waking up here in the story?

YN: i was on a strange case, one thing made me think it was a werewolf. one thing made me think it was a ghost. one thing made me think it was a poltergeist. i remember walking out of my hotel room and that is it. nothing else after that. it sends shivers down my spine when i think of what may be going on with my actual body. how did you end up in here?

Dean: last thing i rememebr is turning on the movie to watch/listen too while i try to sleep. thats it... i have no fucking idea how i ended up in here. as to you saying that you can feel no connection to your physical body, something magical must be blocking the connection, but non-the-less i want to help you. i will finish the story so i can get out of here and find you. i will slay whatever i have to in order to free you, in the story and in reality. i will not rest till i rescue you.

you both continued on in the story, as they say it must continue or the end will not come. but it was nice for both of you to know that neither of you were alone.

the 3 fairies gave you your birthday surprise and told you of your true heritage then whisked you away to the castle where they hid you; dean showed up at the cottage where Rowena prince-napped him; you are led away by rowena’s curse to prick your finger in a hidden tower room the 3 fairies find you laying you down in “your” room; then they put the kingdom to sleep till someone can wake their sweet YN.

~meanwhile outside the story Sam is working with other people to figure out what happened to dean. Ellen, Jo and Bobby all were doing everything they could to help Sam figure out what happened to Dean.~

Back in the story: many sleeping people but the fairies were trying to find out who the handsome stranger was that their sweet Yn had been talking about. they figured he might be their key to saving her.

but soon it was claire who had been doing a round to make sure all of her section was asleep but it was John’s voice that caught her ear for he started talking about how he had spoken to Dean who had been raving about some pesent girl and how Dean had said he was gonna marry her and such.

claire managed to suss out that it was Dean that Yn had met in the forest. the words she had heard from John that had firmed her suspicions were Peasent girl & once upon a dream...

claire flies back to Jo and Alex and speaks in raced tones of panic.

Claire: the young man that YN was talking about is Prince Dean. come on girls we have to get back to the cottage.

as fast as their wings could carry them, they rushed back to the cotage but alas were too late for all they found was Dean’s hat no Dean. they conclude that it must have been Rowena who has dean trapped in her forbiiden palace. their minds made up immediately, they had to go there.

Dean, the only one true person who is able to awaken their Sweet YN... they had to find him to save her. off they went no plan in hand just ‘winging’ it as they went, weaving their way through the grounds passed the guards...

Rowena was in her throne room watching her lackys celebrate. to her raven she speaks.

Rowena: what a pitty prince Dean cant be here to enjoy the celebration. come my pet let us go to the dungeon and cheer him up...

the raven she was just talking too cawed at her as she got up and started walking towards the dungeon where she had been keeping dean.

~*reality jump!!! Dean is still unconcious while Sam is runnning around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to figure out what the hell happened to his brother*~

Sam: i don’t want lecutures. i want to know what happened to Dean.

Bobby: dont worry boy, dean is strong, he will pull through whatever is happening to him. do you have any theories?

Sam: im thinking maybe some sort of curse or something but no signs of any hex bags or nothing surrounding dean. there has to be something we are overlooking. some angle that we have missed.

~*back in the story, dean is stuck in the dungeon not even phased when rowena walks in the door.*~

Rowena: oh come now prince dean why so mellon colly. a wondrous future awaits you. you the destined hero of a charming fairytale come true.

the fairies arrive in the window hiding from the raven and rowena but witness what rowena depicts to Dean through her Staff.

Rowena: behold, king castiel’s castle &and in yonder top most tower, dreaming of her true love, the princess YN. but see the gracious whim of fate. why tis the same said peasent maid who won the heart of our noble prince the other day. she is indeed most wondrous fair. gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red red rose. in ageless sleep she finds repose. the years roll by, but a hundred years to a stead fast hear are ‘bout a day. and now, the gates of the dungeon part and our prince is free to go his way. off he rides on his noble steed. a valiant figure, straight & tall to wake his love with love’s first kiss & prove that true love conquers all...

Dean struggles against his chains, alex starts towards rowena but is held back by Claire as rowena brings her raven back onto her shoulder as they prepare to exit the dungeon she says one final thing in Deans presense.

Rowena: ah my pet let us leave our noble prince with these happy thoughts.

she exits the dungeon leaving Dean struggling against his bonds. the 3 fairies enter the cell using their magic to release dean from the chains and unlock the door. Dean starts towards the door but is stopped by Claire who proceeds to speak.

Claire: wait prince Dean, the road to true love may yet still be barred by much more dangers, which you alone shall have to face. so arm thyself with this enchanted shield of virtue, and this mighty sword of truth. for these weapons of righteousness shall triumph over evil. now come we must hurry.

out of the dungeon they went but rowena’s raven had stayed behind after rowena and the raven exited the dungeon. he started cawing at them, Dean was thinking this would be easy escape. but he was wrong. the raven was bringing an army of lackies downt he stairs to them. dean begins to fight them off.

Claire: quick Dean jump out the window.

Dean jumps out the same window as the fairies, but some rocks start falling towards Dean. Claire notices and speaks quickly.

Claire: Dean watch out!

Claire turns the rocks into bubbles. then a wall of arrows quickly turned into a wall of flying flowers, alex went down to free chuck. dean rides off on chuck towards the gate where hot oil is thrown, claire turns it into a rainbow.

the chase of a lifetime made alex proud as she chased that raven to the top of rowena’s tower & turned it to stone. this made rowena emerge, freshly woken from her sleep she goes to yell at her raven but discovers that her pet has been turned into stone.

she watches from her balcony as the drawbridge is being raised, dean and the fairies are heading straight for it, the fairies help him make the jump. chuck keeps running, carrying Dean as quick possible, dodging rowena’s two spells that she has cast causing them to fail.

in straight eye sight for Dean and the fairies is the castle, but before they can reach it Rowena makes her second last attempt to stop them.

Rowena: a forest of thorns shall be his tomb. born from the skies in a fog of doom. now go with a curse and serve me well. round Castiel’s castle cast my spell.

a black cloud appears over the castle, lightning striking the grounds around, thus causes icky thicky black thorns to grow in large bushes between Dean and the castle.

Dean stops before them, drawing his sword he fights his way through the thorns this let him out just before the bridge to the castle. rowena seeing this appears before Dean in a firey blaze for her final attempt to stop them.

Rowena: now shall ye deal with me oh prince & all the powers of hell!

Dean and the fairies watch as Rowena using every ounce of power she had left to transform herself into a huge fire spying dragon. Dean begins what turns into a short-ish fight but retreats hastly reaching a wall he climbs high.

our prince is now trapped on a cliff, another blaze of fire this causes Dean to loose his shield off the side of the cliff. Claire jo & alex bring their collective magic together near the prince they cast this on the sword.

Claire: now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die & good endure.

dean throws the sword at the dragon piercing its heart. rowena lunges one final time but falls off a cliff to her downfall. dean is then lead down the cliff and to the castle, up to the tower where you lay in slumber waiting for this moment. Dean kneeling by your sleeping form placed a light kiss to your lips.

you wake up just as time freezes. Dean helps you stand up. both of you looking around. yes the entire movie was frozen. puzzled you both stand in front of eachother.

Dean: now whats happening.

you went to open your hand to grab Dean’s but something fell to the floor. Dean reached down to pick it up. he unfolded it and proceeded to read what was upon it.

Dean (reading note): congratulations! Defeating that witch takes care of one of my issues, that was of course the easy part. your next task Dean is to find your destiny, yes your destiny lies within the form of this girl. you must go back to reality and find her body and wake her up once you do everything and i do mean EVERYTHING will become clear. want a clue? here it is: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of _________ in the final resting place of _________...” i look forward to seeing you very very soon. try to hurry i hear there is trouble on your horizons.

now you both were very very very confused. this is what caused you to pop up and say..

YN: what the hell kind of clue was that? any idea what he is talking about? wait does that mean im not in my hotel room anymore. that someone or something moved my body?

Dean: that is exactly what it means and i will do everything in my capable power to find you. hopefully when i get back to reality this paper goes with me...

just as he finished speaking a portal opens, visions of dean’s unconcious body appear along with Sam and others going frantic over what happened to Dean.

Dean: Yn, i give you my solem oath that i will not rest till you are safe by my side, i will fight whoever, go wherever, do whatever i have to in order to save you. dont give up hope and pray that this loop does not repeat for you. pray this time freeze does not disappear when i walk through that portal.

YN: i have faith in you Dean please hurry. i look forward to never leaving your side.

Dean placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before he walked through the portal. you sat on the bed and watched as Time remained frozen but you were once again alone.

Dean arrived back in his own body, he sat straight up and scared the living daylights out of his brother, bobby and several others all of whom embraced Dean.

Dean then went to where Sam’s laptop was and began searching the lore, the myths and legends specifically. when Sam approached him about what he was doing, Dean presented sam with that note. suddenly it made mroe sense to Sam, who left Dean in the charge of Jo while he, bobby and ellen all went to grab food and booze.

Jo: what happened to you?

Dean: one minute i was in that bed trying to fall asleep using a disney movie & the next thing i know im inside the movie. im telling you i would have preferred Hell. but i wasnt the only person from reality stuck in the movie. there was a girl, she said she is a hunter too she was on a strange case when she found herself in the movie. she has no idea of how long she has been in there. she also thinks her body has been moved. this piece of paper proves that someone or something is holding her body somewhere and its up to me to find this girl. at this point nothing else matters. i made her a promise now i have to keep it.

Jo: let me see the paper again...

Dean hands Jo the paper and after a few moments of staring at it she takes a pen and fills in the blanks... thats when the paper glowed... and revealed a magical map...

Dean: how did you do that?

Jo just smiled and laughed...

Jo: im really good at fill in the blanks. its a natural talent i get it from mom... your clue should have finished like this: “in a place of myth & legend where the balance of nature is true, this place you know it all too well. what you believe isnt real is, everything you know shall change forever. the ways of old shall guide you by, this far side of Romania in the final resting place of Dracula...”

Dean hugged her, he knew where he had to go now but how the hell was he gonna get there. it was then that Dean went to load several of his handhelds and load onto his back a machete load up some ammo clips.

he didnt know what to expect but he was certain that being cautious was better than being stupid. he was not gonna walk in there half assed. he needed to be as prepared as could be. however thats when bobby, sam and ellen walked back into the room.

Sam: Dean what are you doing?

Dean: im getting ready before i call cas for transport. this will allow me to not get dinged by airport security and not to become sea sick either. but i hope honestly that this mission im about to embark on is gonna be beneficial.

Bobby: what the hell do you think your doing? never mind that where are you going?

Dean: romania, Jo has the knowledge on why i am going to romania, she will fill you guys in... ill take my burger to go. put my pie in the fridge.

once Dean is ready to go, he stands in the center of the room and smiles back at the others but then Jo pipes up and goes to stand beside Dean with a backpack on her back...

Dean: Jo what...

Jo: im not letting you walk into your destiny alone. do not for one second think im not gonna jump at this opportunity to hunt with you, to help you to find your destiny. you helped me once to know what my destiny was, now its my turn to repay the favor.

Dean takes Jo by the hand as he in a stern voice he speaks the following words.

Dean: Castiel get your oh holy feathery ass down here i need a lift and your my ticket to my next destination.

cas comes to the hotel room and approaches Dean & Jo.

Castiel: where am i taking you and your friend here...

Dean: transylvania and dude once we land you cant be there... it will not be helpful for you to be there. this is a mission i have to do alone. me and my friend here go through the rest of the process alone.

Cas only nods completely understanding on what his friend has asked of him. he takes Dean and Jo to Transylvania. then once they are safe on the ground again cas leaves.

Dean: okay now to look at this magic map and figure out where we are and where the resting place of Dracula is...

Jo: well lets first of all make sure we are prepared before we go into town. i did a bit of research apparently they dont trust strangers here. we need to show them that we mean no harm. or just keep our noses down and pass through without being detected.

Dean: well lets see what the map says.

Jo leads Dean to a rock as she lays out the map...

Jo: these 2 dots over here are us... but what is that red dot over yoner on this map... look there is a multicolored one too....

Dean: the multicolored one is my destiny, the red one has to be what is holding her captive.

jo notices some writing appearing on the map after a few moments.

Jo: whats that say...

Dean: it says, “inside the castle you face your fears, beat them out till you cant no more. fears and demons go hand in hand but if you beat them in order to save your destiny. this is to be your greatest reward.” what the hell does that mean...

Jo: it means no matter what we need to get to that castle.

hand in hand they get their tracks moving towards the path...

Jo: i really hope the story of transylvania is fake...

Dean: you mean the fact that as soon as the sun goes down werewolves and vampires come out to play... you and me both but hey if they do we are fully prepared. this place is on top of a supernatural time bomb. everything that goes bump in the night comes out after sunset.

both dean and jo look up into the sky the last bit of light leaves the tree line.

Dean: have your silver bullets and machete ready just in case... we are not taking any chances. we have to get to that castle.

Jo: dont worry we will...

Dean smiles as both of them continue making their way through the forst, a little quicker than normal pace. the sun had now fully set, the light that had been guiding them was gone.

Jo: just follow the path the map says this will lead us to the castle where your destiny awaits you. Dean are you sure we...

thats when she stopped speaking... her words cut out... Dean pulled out his machete and quickly brought it to face the enemy that now held his best friend back.

Shadow entity: ah so the prodigal has come for his prize.. well i think ill take a constitution to ensure that you follow the rules, to ensure the balance is complete, to ensure that we are all in clarity to our debts. to this i have something to say this to you: you are part of the same card, the girl i have sleeping right now is not going to wake up without her other half. you have not done anything to earn her freedom, so i take your friend as kind of a wake up call to the horrors that which wait you inside. this castle has its own story but to unlock its secrets you must face your fears. face them down Dean, only then will you have earned her freedom. see you real soon.

the shadow figure disappears with Jo... Dean picks up her bag and keeps his machete on hand as he continues walking. following the map as he heard the soft crunching of his boots under the snow. winter sure is warmish in whats supposed to be the coldest part of romania.

Dean (to self): i have no idea what the hell is going on but i now have 2 bright lights to save i am just hoping i can conquer whatever appears before me... Jo for your courage please be my light. guide me to where you are... my dear sister.

meanwhile Jo has been placed in a room, where you lay in wait for your destiny. Jo takes one look at you and she smiles. she knows that you are definately dean’s destiny and then she speaks the following words.

Jo: in all my years i had never thought Dean would find his destiny, never after he helped me find mine i swore i would help him find his, now Dear Brother please follow my light...

Dean stops a quick moment to catch his breath and look at the map... he then sees Jo’s dot on the map glow brighter... it acts as a flashlight lighting up the path he must walk.

after several more steps and following his light he arrives at the castle.

Dean: here i com ladies... dont loose hope.

Dean holding his machete walked inside the castle.. the first thing he saw was the vision of himself as a demon tellig hm that he was gonna die alone and that he would become that... he told that vision that he would always have a family beside him even if they werent around that cared for him that would never abandon him.

that he went on his way still fllowing the light o the ground he comes accross the first blade which tells him that he fears being back in hell torturing souls and how good it made him feel. dean tells it that he will never and shall never go back to hell and never will he torutue those who dont deserve it again.

a few more fears tried to get dean to turn away from this quest, tried to get him to fail but nothing worked. the last area on the map was a long corridor it looked as thought there was a figure about mid way down.

the map let off a warning flash meaning there was danger approaching. Dean speaks once more to whatever is trying to face him down.

Dean: i address the entity in front of me. who are you? why have you brought me to this awful place?

Shadow: i am the demonic shadow of Count Dracula and I have brought you here so you can face me in the ultimate battle. Either I will be finally put to rest or I will be made whole again. do you accept my challenge?

Dean drops the bags and keeps both his guns and his machete as he speaks.

Dean: look dumn ass, i dont know who your the spirit or entitiy of but this is not how things are run in my world. in my world the good guys win and the bad guys loose. now if you stand aside and let me wake my destiny and save my sister then you might just get to be put back to sleep again. or ill succeed and kill you right now. your choice, i’m good either way.

Shadow: you dare to think you stand a chance against me, how cute. very well, if its death you choose then allow me to help you with that.

Dean moved out of the way as the shadow lunged toward him, missed and just landed again.. Dean then shot out 6 rounds of dead mans blood rounds all aimed at shadow-Dracula, he dodged those.

shadow: tell you what, ill make you a deal if you surrender now ill give you ten long years to spend with your so called “destiny” in exchange for you letting me out of here with my life.

Dean: how bout not a prayer. eat bullets instead.

Dean unloads the rest of the bullets in a circular form at the ground around shadow-dracula. completing the devils trap...

Dean: oh wait you dont need to eat the bullets cause your history pal...

Shadow-dracula looked down and around himself, the look that he now sported was one of fear. he was the one that now was terrified.

Shadow: this is impossible no one imprisons the great Dracula.

Dean: oh buddy im gonna do alot more than that, time for you to go back to where you came from.

Dean stands up tall as he then speaks the same words he had spoken previously hundreds upon hundreds of times.

Dean: Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audios bitch!

that was all Dean had to say the shadow of Dracula was no more. he went back to grab the bags and continued forward... he shot the lock on the doors and kicked them open.

Jo: Dean you found us... i believe you know what to do romeo... put everything down ill prepare to treat any wounds and such that show themselves once you wake her.

Dean: Jo it was dracula, the shadow outside the door was dracula’s shadow. i cant believe his shadow was so hostile. i mean if i hadnt wasted 2 clips of amo drawing out a devils trap i would have lost the fight.

Jo: ya ya ya okay dude, you have an overdue appointment with destiny over on that bed, now drop the bags and go.

Dean knew jo would have kicked his ass if he didnt listen. he did as told, he dropped the bags and walked over to kneel beside you. he brushed some hair from your forehead..

Dean: together now and always i have always been your once upon a dream.

his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. he pulled back after a few seconds and waited to see if it workd. a while later you open your eyes and touch Dean’s cheek.

YN: you found me?

Dean: did you doubt i would? i said i would and i keep my promises. this girl over here is my sister Jo. she is gonna give you the once over and then ill call for our ride out of here once she has you in a clean set of clothes. im gonna make sure we are still safe... i will call cas once we are all ready.

Dean leaves you in the hands of Jo who hands you some clothes and assesses you making sure you are not hurt. Dean comes back a few moments later and calls cas to come bring you all home.

Cas came brought you, dean and Jo back to the hotel. you and dean were gonna take some time to figure out what everything meant. this was when a bright light came upon the entire room.

Dean: whats going on?

thats when Gabriel appeared in the room. everyone had hand guns on him immediately. but he speaks not with hostility but with normality.

Gabriel: ah winchesters and friends. do not be alarmed for YN and Dean have been written in the stars since the beginning of time. Dean and Yn im sorry for trapping you both in that sleeeping curse it was the only way to get you both to listen to reason. to listen to your hearts. i was only trying to get you both to follow the rules that destiny had for you.

Dean: then why show up and tell us about it now...

Gabriel: cause i knew if i didnt it would have been alot worse later on.

Dean: what happens now?

Gabriel: well with your permission i could marry you and Yn right here right now... if you both agree.

you and Dean exchange looks before smiling.

Dean: when do we begin?

Gabriel snapped his fingers and the room transformed into a garden glade type thing. before you and Dean could say anything else you were taken from grungy hotel room to garden glade.

Gabriel: we are gathered here today to join Dean and YN in the ever holy bonds of Matrimony. this holy bond is a sacred gift, that deserves to be protected cherish it now and always. now i am assuming that there are no objections to this holy union.

the room was silent as Gabriel held his hand out and 2 silver bands appeared clearly made for you and Dean.

Gabriel: vows or no vows.

Dean: what more needs to be said, we already said everything we needed to... we know what we are. we have our feelings, we need no words for them.

Gabriel: very well, Dean take the band and tell Yn what you think should go with this ring!

Dean takes the ring and slowly slides it on your finger as he reveals whats in his heart.

Dean: YN after the movie and what i had to do to rescue you. i have to say that im 100% positive about you being the single most best thing that has ever stepped into my path of life. i promise now and always to honor, love cherish and whatever else goes with that... i love you Yn your the best part of me now.

you take the ring and you do the same thing.

YN: Dean, when i met you in the movie i was unsure of your intentions. then it was your beautiful green eyes that made me swoon. now i stand here to say i too now and forever more will honor, love, cherish and everything else that goes with it for the rest of my life. you are an amazing man Dean Winchester i love you so much and i cant wait to be your wife and have your last name.

Gabriel: by the powers and laws bestowed on me by Heaven, i now am honored to pronounce you husband and wife. Dean you may now kiss your beautiful wife.

Dean kisses you with so much passion. there was nothing to do for everyone else except cheer and clap.

everyone lived happily ever after. well at least once upon a dream!

#thisismysecrethappyplacesharethelove #spndarkbingo #spnfluffbingo #heaven and hell bingo

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higuchimon · 3 years

Text

[fanfic] Meaning of Choices: chapter 3

Sorcerimon regarded the situation before him, torn between vastly amused and being on the edge of terrified.

I assumed if he were so insistent to not be like his sire, and if he were half as stubborn as the stories paint him to be, then this would not happen.

Though truth to tell it hadn’t happened yet. Motomiya Daisuke merely stood there, eyes half-slitted shut, fists clenched, breathing speeding up with each second. Wormmon stared up at him, one tiny pod touching against his feet.

“You should leave here,” Sorcerimon suggested to the insect Digimon. “I will dispose of him.” Here in this moment he did have a chance to overpower the creature before it truly became dangerous. But it would be best to do that without Wormmon there. Partnered Digimon could be so very annoying, even if it wasn’t their partner there.

Wormmon didn’t even look at him. “Daisuke! Daisuke!” He inched up closer. “Are you all right?”

“No, he isn’t. He’s Akigaramon, the spawn of Apocalymon.” Sorcerimon’s lip curled behind his mask. “A creature born of destruction, that exists only to destroy all around it when it doesn’t submit to whatever Digimon can overpower it. Why do you think it is so drawn to Akogimon?”

Wormmon whirled around and while he didn't evolve, he most certainly glared at Sorcerimon with all the fury of an Ultimate. “He likes Ken because they’re friends! And Ken likes him because they’re friends! Because Daisuke’s never blamed him for what he did and did so much to help him be better They’re friends because they like each other! I don’t care about any of that and neither do they! So why do you?”

Sorcerimon raised one eyebrow. “Because a Digimon is what their data declares they are. They are both Virus types, and the offspring of two of the most powerful ones. And the most evil ones.” He waved his staff towards the struggling Akigaramon. “I have cast many spells to learn his purpose and his programming. His nature is to serve – Apocalymon if no one else exerts a greater control on him. Should the dark demon find a way to recover the spark of life, he can use this one as a vessel to restore himself.”

Wormmon didn’t move an inch. “I don’t care. V-mon wouldn’t care. Ken doesn’t care. That’s not who Daisuke is. Daisuke is our friend. Ken is our friend and my partner and you’re not helping him because of Piemon?”

“I’m not helping him because he doesn’t need it.” Sorcerimon corrected primly. “As I said. Should he be Piemon’s true son, Akogimon, then he will be able to repel the poison’s influence. Should he be a human, then he will die from it, and nothing of value to this world would be lost. He committed many crimes as the Digimon Kaiser. Nothing he has done remits those crimes – nor could it. He slew many Digimon, setting them against one another for his own amusement.”

Sorcerimon shook his head. “I watched all that he did from hiding – I knew who sired him from the moment I saw him, and I saw who opposed him as well. The Chosen are a great help, it is true, but with half their number comprised of viral Digimon types, it was only a matter of time before he learned their secrets and how to tame them.”

“But he never did.” Motomiya grated the words out. Sorcerimon had almost forgotten that he stood there. “He never knew about any of that.”

“True. I was wrong there. But now that he knows what he is, and what all of you are, what holds him back from resuming the mantle of the Kaiser?” Sorcerimon had considered that option many, many times over the years. “What could stop him now that he knows who he should make his own? And do not say that you will – who do you think would be the first person to fall to their knees before him and pledge your eternal loyalty? You are created to serve. It is your nature. You should not deny it.”

Slowly Motomiya shook his head and dragged his eyes open. They flickered between brown and red, peace and rage. “That’s not how it works. I decide what I am. We all do.”

“Humans, perhaps. But you are a Digimon and that means you were programmed for a purpose – you more than others, in fact. As I said, your existence was crafted. Your purpose was set from the beginning.”

A flicker of red. “Oh, I know.” That wasn’t the voice of Motomiya Daisuke. “And I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart.”

Sorcerimon took a step backwards, even as Motomiya’s eyes shifted back to brown and he spoke in his normal voice. “Stop that! You’re not – going to do anything!”

Unfortunately, the smile that broke across Motomiya’s features a breath later told a different, and far more painful, story.

Akogimon and Ken circled one another. Ken still couldn’t have said where they were aside from an endless expanse of nothingness that he guessed was supposed to be inside of his mind. It wasn’t a place he found that he liked a great deal. Mostly because Akogimon was there in the first place.

He hated looking over into this creature’s face. It looked exactly like him, down to the last strand of hair. There were different clothes and he didn’t carry a sword but otherwise, one of them could have just stepped out of a mirror of the other.

He didn’t just not carry a sword – in his hand there glowed a brilliant white-blue whip. He hated how good it felt in his hands – how at ease it was. As if he’d carried it every day of his life and practiced every day.

He’d not forgotten – he could never forget – that there’d been a time when he had. Years gone by now but it seemed certain old habits died very hard.

“You don’t even know what you can do,” Akogimon pointed out. “Why do you think that you can stop me?” His lips flashed into a quick, dangerous smile. “I promise you that I won’t hurt Akigaramon – more than he wants me to, anyway.”

“His name is Motomiya Daisuke,” Ken corrected, the tip of the whip trailing in front of him. He watched for whatever could be a hint of an attack. “And I won’t let you anywhere near him.”

“How tiresome. You’ve had all this time to run around and do everything that you’ve ever wanted,” Akogimon sniffed. His right hand tensed a fraction. Ken didn’t miss the tiny motion. “And now you think you can stop me from having my turn?”

On those last two words he brought his hand up and a sharp-edged dagger slid from his fingertips. Ken ducked out of the way and lashed the whip forward. Akogimon deflected the tip with a sphere of energy and took care to keep out of the way of the whip.

“Yes. I do.” Ken replied calmly. He’d fought his worst nature every day of his life for four years now. He wasn’t going to give in to a part of him made from a monster. If Akogimon wanted to take over, then Ken would fight him every step of the way.

Akogimon never lost that taunting little smile. “That’s what I expected. You’re the human side of us. I’m the Digimon. What makes you think that you can defeat me on your own?”

“What makes you think that I can’t?” Ken retorted. “Just because I’m human?”

That got a shrug. “Actually, yes. Because if you’re human, you’re going to die. That’s what Alarumon's poison does. It can kill humans. But a Digimon? Especially one as strong as I am? I’ll be sick for about twelve hours and then start to recover.” Again that smile, far too knowing for its own good. “So which are you? Human or Digimon? Ichijouji Ken or Akogimon?”

Ken’s heart skipped a few beats. He most certainly didn’t want to be Akogimon. He would never be the Kaiser again – and Akogimon was far, far worse than the Kaiser. What he needed to do was find an answer that was both and neither. If such an answer existed.

Akogimon raised his sword, pointing it at Ken’s face. “You should make up your mind quickly. Because if you don’t you won’t have the energy to make the choice and that means that I get to do it. You can guess what I choose.”

Yes, Ken could.

“That’s not going to happen.” Ken shook his head, coiling his whip a little closer. A plan sketched in the back of his mind. For all that Akogimon declared they were one and the same, Ken didn’t think that the other could read his mind. He couldn’t read Akogimon’s. There had to be some separation between them.

Moving with all the speed that he could – even after four years he was still the Rocket – he cracked the whip forward, lashing the end of it around Akogimon’s wrist and yanking it forward. Akogimon’s sword clattered to the ground and he yanked his hand back, eyes flashing in sparks of red.

“Do you really think that can stop me?” Akogimon scoffed. “I’ve told you before. You have to decide if you are you or if you are me. Because only one of us can leave from here.” Again that smile appeared and Ken hated the sight of it. “The way you’re going now, it’s going to be me.”

“Not a chance.” Ken shook his head. “I won’t let you hurt Daisuke. Or anyone else.”

“That’s not the issue. How often do I have to say it? It’s not about stopping me.” Akogimon flexed his fingers. The sword vanished from between them and appeared once more in his hand before it faded again. “What you need to decide is if you are human – or not.”

Everything around Daisuke fluttered, fading in and out. He could see Sorcerimon, who raised his staff in a futile form of defense. He could see Wormmon, confused and uncertain, pods resting on Daisuke’s shoes, mandibles opening and closing. Calling his name, Daisuke knew, but couldn’t hear.

Right now all that he could hear was Akigaramon’s laughter, ringing against his ears in dissonant tones, seething underneath his skin, crawling across every inch of him.

I’ve waited too long. I want to live. I want to destroy. I want to start with him. I want Akogimon.

Daisuke’s hands dug into his hair and he keened deep in his throat. “No,” he groaned. “No, you can’t. You won’t.”

It isn’t up to you. You’re what never should have existed. I am what was meant to be – what was always meant to be. Again that laughter that held nothing of true amusement but plenty of mockery.

If he’d shaken his head, he thought it might have fallen off his neck. Every word Akigaramon spoke dug into him like pointed spears of poisoned steel. His breathing staggered and stuttered and he could see Akigaramon standing before him, arms crossed, a terribly smug expression twisting his features.

“No.” Daisuke wasn’t going to give it up. Nothing would make him give ground. Whatever he had to do to protect the world from the chaos this creature would unleash, he would do.

There is nothing. I am Akigaramon, the one who brings the apocalypse. The ending of all. Again that shattered laughter. Though if I could kill him I would do that too.

Daisuke wasn’t even sure of who he meant. Akigaramon didn’t make sense, except in one terrible fashion – he wanted to destroy everything in the world. In all worlds and in all ways. Daisuke wouldn’t allow that in the slightest.

“Daisuke!” Wormmon’s voice squeaked through him. “Daisuke! You’ll be all right! I believe in you! So does V-mon! So does Ken!”

V-mon. Ken. Wormmon. Daisuke set his jaw, drawing on every ounce of stubbornness he’d ever possessed in his life.

“I’m Motomiya Daisuke. I’m not letting you do this.”

Akigaramon started to say something else. Daisuke shook his head, not caring if it fell off or not. Maybe if it did, that would stop the monster that dared to share his body.

You don’t have to let me. His voice rang in two different tones, sometimes in Daisuke's head and sometimes in his ears. “Because I will let me. As I said. You weren’t meant to exist. I was always the one – you took what was mine when I was sent to the human world.”

Daisuke let himself smile this time. “That’s your bad luck, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter if I wasn’t meant to exist or not. I do now. And I’m not giving up.”

“I don't need you to give up. I’ll shred you from the inside out. I destroy – it’s what I do.” Akigaramon’s nails grew into long, sharp claws, dripping with something that Daisuke didn’t want to look at too closely. Tiny drops sizzled as they fell beneath them, leaving behind jagged holes. “You see my poison? It works on anything – and everything. Even me – and that means you.”

Daisuke didn’t back down. “If you think you can, then go on ahead.” He’d cling to life with every scrap of strength that he had. The people who believed in him would expect that of him and he wasn’t going to let any of them down. He’d come all this way to save Ken’s life. If that meant giving up his own, then so be it.

Akigaramon’s weight shifted. Hardly more than that, but Daisuke would be ready in another second. He would throw everything that he had into this.

The temperature dropped, cold and terrifying and a blast of icy wind raced against both of them. If Akigaramon were affected, Daisuke was too busy shivering to see. A clear, sharp, cold voice rang outwards.

“Ice Illusion!” Sorcerimon declared, a frozen wind pouring out from the tip of his staff. The sky vanished behind a veil of deep gray clouds, from which spun a snowstorm too thick for anyone to see through. Wormmon squealed and pressed himself closer to Daisuke, and Daisuke lost sight of Akigaramon, save for a single sentence scraping off of his thoughts.

If we die, then Akogimon – and Ichijouji Ken – dies.

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear – but Daisuke wondered if it was what he needed to know.

To Be Continued

Notes: Only one chapter left! I struggled to decide how to take it from here. But I think you’ll like what I decided on.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #digimon adventure 02 #motomiya daisuke #ichijouji ken #ken x daisuke #daisuke x ken #kendai #daiken #au: breeds #chapters: meaning of choices

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