#THIS IS MAKING ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I DRAW DREAM N GEORGE SCRATCHES HEAD

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

After six long months, I present to you:

Tupelo Honey

Word Count- 3k

Warnings- language, angst, discussion of abortion

A/N- With help from familiar strangers, Honey makes a choice that will change Leon's life and hers forever.

Chapter 4: Angel of The Morning

Late fall of 1968, Morning:

Honey clutched at the pillow as her hips flew towards the ceiling. Her back arched before she bent forward and twisted her free hand in Leon's thick hair. His name echoed off the bedroom walls as she came without caring if they woke Johnny this early.

Honey’s chest heaved as her body attempted to regulate her breath. Leon threw the sheets back and looked up at her. His hand absently ran up and down her stomach to her breasts and back.

“What?” Honey’s voice was sleepy as she met a green-eyed gaze. She propped up on her elbows when his brows knit together. “What's wrong?”

“Not much, love. It's just, your..” Leon's cheeks turned kinda pink, “stuff tastes different. You been eating anything new?”

“No? You mean it tastes different when I cum?”

“Just this time. You gonna start your thing?” He pointed towards Honey’s sex. “Period.”

“I don't think so. Should be around any day now though.”

Leon crawled up towards the pillows and laid down beside his girlfriend. His arm draped across her collarbone as he snuggled up to her shoulder. He nipped at the skin before kissing it. Then pressed his forehead into her neck.

Honey caught a scent of herself on him. “It even kinda smells different. I better get to the clinic just in case. I've not felt that weird other than that stomach bug.” Her nails lightly scratched Leon's forearm as she spoke. “I can't have an STI, since you went all mad and demanded my undying monogamy.”

Leon ignored her. “Maybe,” he yawned and stretched his impossibly long arms and legs straight out, “you caught a case of the pregnancy.” He sat up and leaned down to kiss her stomach.

“Don't say that!” Leon's familiar whine filled Honey’s own voice. “I won't keep it. That's legal here now.”

Leon stared back at her, “Just like that.”

“It's my body, Leonidas. Look at how short I am. Imagine this knocked up,” Honey waved a hand down the length of her naked self.

“I do.” It came out a whisper. Honey glowered. “Don't pull that face on me, Gracie. I know it's your body. We just ain't exactly safe with our shaggin’ are we? Leavin’ it up to chance. Then you get angry if there's one on the way. Keep it. End it. Give it up for adoption. I know it's YOUR choice. You tell me all the bloody time about it being your body. I respect that because I love you. Before you give me cheek, I think about having a baby with you loads.”

“Leon that's not what we want.” Honey sat up on her haunches beside him. “Look at us. We share a one bedroom flat with a ginger con man that we don't even sleep in half the time based on whether he wants to fuck someone or not. Our loo is literally a closet, and we have to shower at your parents’. There's one dresser and half a wardrobe for both of us. Where the hell would we even PUT a baby let alone afford to have one.”

“We've saved money! My parents would help us get a proper house or flat. Or stay with them until we could.”

“Oh sure. Us, your parents, your Yia Yia, one uncle and a baby. Sounds cozy.”

“I grew up in a place with more living there than that. We could get a loan.”

“What will we put down for occupations, Leon?!” Honey was losing her cool. A wave of nausea hit her, but she choked it back. “Occasional actor, waiter, and FBI fugitive?! I can't out myself like that.”

“We lie. I'm an actor. I'm sure you know loads of people who could fake it. Look respectable. I'll cut my hair and clean up my face.” Leon was equally annoyed, hands fidgeting in his lap. His legs started to bounce up and down as he reached, but fumbled with the nightstand drawer.

“Don't you fucking dare cut that hair. Who will we even pretend to be? Patti Boyd and fucking George Harrison? I'm an awful blonde and your hair would take hours to straighten. Leon we would have to fake marriage certificates. That's fraud. Real and proper, honest prison time fraud.”

Leon ignored her and finally yanked the drawer practically in half. The handle came off in his hands causing him to mumble under his breath and drop it to the ground. In a fury he tossed the contents aside in a search for something Honey wasn't sure of.

“If you're about to get high, I'll fucking leave you right now.” Honey got up and snapped her fingers in Leon's face. “We're not done talking about this.”

He looked up at her, his green eyes ablaze for the first time in their relationship. “I'm not GETTING high! Will you quit talking to me like I'm a bloody fucking child? You and Johnny always like I'm mad or deficient. I have a university degree from Cambridge, and I speak three languages. I'm observant not stupid.”

“That's.. That's not what I meant,” Honey bit her lip. “You are one of the smartest guys I've ever met. I just.. Worry about the amount of opium you started sneaking into your pot. You're working less and letting Johnny call the shots.”

Leon was lost in his search, “You’re just jealous of someone else pushing me around?” He waved his hand dismissively before Honey could answer. “I’m fine, love. I'm just a bit stressed is all. It helps me relax.”

“Leon, it's heroin. You know what happened to my uncle.”

He ignored her, “I’ll be swell. Promise. Plus I think this idea Johnny has finally.. DAMMIT WHERE'S THAT TOSSER OF A RING?!”

Something fell off the bed onto the wooden floor with a PING! Leon got down on all fours, stark naked and put his eye to the wood. His arm outstretched and came back to him with an object between his long fingers. He held it aloft towards Honey and took her tiny hand inside of his large one. Honey stopped breathing.

“It's not exactly proper, but you aren't exactly a girl into convention, are ya?” Leon smiled up at his girlfriend. He kissed the back of Honey’s hand. “You think better of me than I think of myself. I want to make you happy, and I want to be a good husband and daddy. If this meeting tonight doesn't go well, I'll stop acting. No more pot or opium or acid or coke right bloody now. I'll get a proper job and we can get a proper house and when the time comes, you choose whatever you want. Stay home. Go to work, I'll stay home. So you aren't loaded down by the patriarchy or whatever.”

“Leon,” Honey’s face was pale and she started to swoon. She saw the way his hand swallowed hers, and panicked. Her fucked up brain saw herself lost in Leon the same way.

“Even if we go to the court, just us. Even if we have to leave London because you're worried. I'll go with you. To India like you sorted out before we met. I don't want you to give up on any dream because of this baby. Or me.”

Before she could get any answer out, Leon slid the ring on Honey’s finger. It was stunning, carved marble and amethyst. She knew it was old, Grecian.

“It's purple because Dionysus cried and spilled his wine onto a maiden he offended by his drunkenness. Artemis protected her, turned her to crystal and she absorbed his wine. It sobered him. Your love, when I'm not foolish, will sober me.”

“Leon,” Honey said again, unable to say anything else.

“Will you please marry me, Gracie?”

The question was so pure. His eyes were so green and hopeful. Honey couldn't think or speak around the lump in her throat. But then..

“I can't,” she whispered. “I have to go to the clinic. You've got an early shift at the restaurant.”

Honey was numb as she pulled on some clothes and her coat. She left the flat and Leon naked on his knees in the bedroom.

----

Later that afternoon:

Honey stared straight passed the nurse as she explained exactly what would happen if she decided to not keep the baby. How they suggest she not be alone and to have someone willing to care for her. To make sure there's no infection.

“Ultimately, dove, it's your decision. Unless you're cold-hearted, it might do your head in. It's not as easy as you modern girls think. You might not regret it, but you might. You prepared? Is your husband keen on this idea too?” The nurse nodded at the ring.

“Oh.. we aren't.. I didn't really give him a choice?”

“Well let's see if you're even pregnant first. Then I want you to go back to your partner and have a good talk. Promise me you'll do that?”

The young woman smiled. It was tentative and nervous. “Yeah. Ok. But it won't change my mind.” She held out her arm for the blood draw and took a cup and left for the loo.

Honey sat on the stairs of the clinic and bent down in a wave of nausea. It was amazing that now she knew she was knocked up the symptoms seemed to worsen. Like how noticing a paper cut makes it suddenly sting.

Her breasts were swollen and a fire built in her chest and stomach every time she laid down. What was the absolute worst, she came to realize, how mean she had been to Leon. A total uncool bitch. Honey looked down at the amethyst on her ring finger and began to cry.

“Hey man, you ok?” a voice asked. American.

“Jesus, don't call her man! What is wrong with you?” a female American voice.

“Leave me alone! Last time I was here, I was in Vietnam. I'm freaking the fuck out, Sel.”

“weren't you a cu-”

“Uh!! This is about them, not me.”

One of them sat down next to Honey. “My brother is right, are you ok? Honey, right?”

Honey looked up to meet eyes that almost took her breath away. A young woman around her age smiled and it reminded her of Leon. Her shoulder length hair had soft waves and curls, but her eyes. Her eyes somehow looked like Honey’s.

“Do I know you?” she squinted her eyes and tilted her head.

“Not yet,” the woman’s cheeks pinked a little. “We're.. Leon's..”

“Cousins!” a male voice interjected.

“I didn't know Leon had cousins from- Fuck me on the tube.”

“Tempting, but I don't think Leon would be down for that.” The inflection of his voice, despite being yank, was so much like his.. cousin’s. “My sister and I have been looking all over this stupid city for you the last few days. To meet you before we left. Leon told my sister you were here. He seemed pretty pissed. This is an uh,” he gestured at the building.

“Abortion clinic?”

“You sure that's how you want to handle it?” the young woman questioned softly.

“Well I don't think Leon has the balls to push me down the stairs,” Honey shrugged.

Leon’s cousin, if that's who she was heaved a sigh. “I like to think I have a sharp tongue and a bit of a shrewd mind. I get it from MY mom. Can I be straight with you?”

“I mean I guess it's easier from a stranger?”

“I know for a FACT you won't be giving up on anything. You are already more involved in changing the world than most people your age. And that doesn't have to stop because you're pregnant. Activists can have children or partners. Take her with you! Take Leon! You come from a long line of shit kickers, right?”

Honey narrowed her eyes. She studied this woman’s face again. Her eyes. HER eyes somehow. But Leon’s features. If she had a daughter, this is who she would want her to be. Sharp, like herself, but optimistic like her daddy.

Daddy.. “Did you say her? How do you know any of this? I swear Leon’s family is here or in Greece. You've got to be close, this one is like fucking Patty Duke. Identical cousins. Man you sure you're cool?”

He scratched his body and Honey heard a tinkling. Then she saw the dog tags. “Yeah I'm gravy.” He looked the way Leon had when she rejected him earlier. It broke Honey’s heart all over.

“Drafted?”

He held out his tags and had this longing in his eyes, “Love.”

“You went to Vietnam for love?”

“I stayed for it. Hardest thing I've ever done besides sobriety. Having a kid and an old man is a fucking piece of cake. If you were gonna go through with.. Termination, I think you would've done it right?”

“I just don't know if I have good enough of a reason besides maybe it'll be fine. I don't know what is freaking me the hell out! We both have happily married parents!! And grandparents. But I've put so much on hold for men. I've let them.”

“Yeah but Leon’s not like that.”

“No. He's not. But the drugs and the hare brained schemes terrify me. My uncle, Lenny Bruce? He ran cons with his wife that he knocked up and they were just. Tumultuous. He loved heroin almost more than Honey and Kitty. It killed him in the end. I don't want Leon and I to be the fluke too.”

“If I tell you to say the FIRST thing that comes to your mind about Leon. No thinking, open your mouth and speak. What is the first part of him you think of.”

“His kind eyes. Your eyes,” she gestured towards the man. “Yours are a bit lost, but they're still just as gentle.”

He bit his lip. Honey noticed it trembled just a tad. “Same thing,” his voice hoarse. “What's the first thing that you would DO for him?”

“Be with him in every life we've ever lived and ever will.”

The woman beside her took Honey’s hand in both of hers. Her annoying familiarity forced Honey to listen to everything she was about to say.

“My parents came from a similar taboo situation. They were immigrants (my dad twice), during the worst war. Activists who got in a bit of a mess. They were separated for a while when my mom was pregnant with me. She had me alone. Yet they have been together for OVER 25 years.”

“I cannot imagine two people better suited for each other than my parents. They trust one another IMPLICITLY and are both still very attracted to one another. Trust me. It's gross.!

“Now they have a successful business. My younger brother and I have our own jobs to pay for ourselves, but our parents are paying for us to go to school. Marriage or partnerships are work, but I have seen that it's worth it. I hope I can be as fearless as they are one day.”

Honey took her hand back and rubbed her face. “Why are you two so hell bent on me staying knocked up? Like there’s something real heavy you're not telling me.”

“We're just like, REALLY invested in Leon’s happiness!” the woman exclaimed.

“Or we could just tell her? I saved Dave that way.”

Honey narrowed her eyes, “Convincing.”

“You and Leon and this baby are going to literally save the world?”

“Alright,” Leon's doppelganger decided to take a turn. “Someone took me away from our mom when I was just a baby. I was raised pretty abusively. But I found my parents, OUR parents,” he gestured at his sister. “They just.. welcomed me in, AND my other adopted siblings.”

“You are so, so much like her. You and Leon are like BOTH of our parents. Really we Kostases.. Kosti? We leap without looking. If we fly, we fly. So I know what Leon's decision is. You said it yourself, he's worth being with in every life you live. Isn't that your answer?”

Honey sighed again and stood up. She looked back and forth between the man and woman claiming to have her best interest at heart. The siblings with her eyes and Leon’s. “I can't just rush into this.”

“Says the woman who fell in love on the set of a porno film.”

Honey ignored him. Ignored how he knew that. She put her hand on her stomach tenderly. “I have to say, if we have this kid, I'm not sure why, but I hope it.. she's like you. What's your name?”

“Selina. After the moon.”

Honey smiled in a knowing way. “Stick around, I'm sure Leon would love to see you.”

“We can't, but you'll understand all of this one day.”

“I'll see you again?”

“I promise.”

Then Honey and the cousins parted ways. She and Leon had a lot to discuss.

Tag: @neuroticpuppy @elliethesuperfruitlover @messengeronthemoon @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @forenschik @nightmonsters @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @frogs--are--bitches @ghouls-buddy @a-ghoulish-tale @bwritesstuff @icecoffeegirl @070188

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan fic #robert sheehan character fic #moonwalkers fic #leon x honey #klaus hargreeves #lovely little pixie

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Marry Me

Request: Hey I really love your writing. Can you make a story where Fred Weasley and the reader are married and their journey through the war and everything and Fred lives. :) @famdomhideout​

A/N: thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Angst! Mentions of war, mentions of violence, injury to reader, injury to Fred, pretty much sad the whole time but lots of fluff at the end and in between. I didn’t proof read so there may be grammar mistakes.

Italics are flashbacks

Your lungs burned as you ran through the hallway, the sound of the death eaters footsteps getting louder as they got closer. You quickly turned a corner, pressing yourself against the wall and holding your breath, your eyes screwed shut as you attempted to make yourself invisible, only releasing the air from your lungs when you heard the death eaters run past you. 

You opened your eyes. You were in your old potions class. You looked around the now destroyed room. Shattered jars, that once held herbs and potions were scattered across the floor. The projector screen at the front of the room had been torn in half. Textbooks had been ripped apart, yet in the back of the class, standing right next to you was your desk, The first letter of your name having been scratched into the wood surface, accompanied by an F and encased in a heart.

Fred.

You ran out of the classroom, and headed straight for the great hall, desperate to find the red headed man. You entered the large room, your eyes scanning the soot and dirt covered faces bodies until they landed on a head of long fiery hair.

“Molly!” You yelled, the woman’s head wiping around at the sound of your voice to find you. 

“Oh, Y/n thank goodness!” She said relived, engulfing you in a hug.

“Where is he?” You asked, looking around the room, hoping to meet the eyes of the man you loved.

“We thought he was with you” A familiar voice said, causing you to turn and meet eyes with George, his twin who would have usually been glued to his side being nowhere in sight. 

Panic began to set in as realization washed over you.

He was still out there.

“Five more minutes!” Fred groaned as you opened the blinds of your shared bedroom, his arm quickly covering his eyes as the light washed over him.

“Come on Fred, the shop opens in an hour” You giggled, sitting on the bed to put on a pair of socks, only to yelp in surprise as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle and quickly pull you back into the bed, your back now pressed to Fred’s chest.

“George can handle opening. I wasn’t to spend a few more minutes with my perfect person” Fred said, kissing a light kiss on your shoulder.

“Oh really, this is perfect?” You asked, motioning to your untamed bed head and mismatched socks.

“Yes. You’re perfect” Fred replied, a soft smile crossing his face as you blushed at the compliment. “If fact, that bed head is kind of turning me on.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you finally gave in and closed the space between you and Fred, pressing your lips to his with a smile.

“I need to go find him” You said, already beginning to back up towards the entrance of the great hall. 

“No, you can’t go-” Molly started.

“I’ll find him! I promise, I’ll be back soon” You called, turning and falling into a sprint as you went out in search for your husband. 

“We needed this” you sighed, leaning your head to rest on Fred’s shoulder as you watched the stars.

“That’s an understatement” Fred said, but you could sense the tension in his voice.

The past few months had been hard, both emotionally and financially. The start of the war meant most people spent their time indoors, which in turn had caused the shop to suffer greatly. 

You remembered the day Fred and George left Hogwarts to start it. It was the best day of their lives, and though it hurt to have to say goodbye to your boyfriend, you were happy that he was pursuing his dreams. Now, the shop was in danger of being shut down, along with most of the other stores in Diagon Alley, and having to see the constant fear in his eyes broke your heart. So, you proposed a weekend get away to forget for a few days. And here you were, sitting under the stars, enjoying each others company in silence, until.

“Marry me” 

“What?” You asked, sitting up to look Fred in the eyes, unsure if you had heard him right. 

“Marry me” He repeated, turning so he was now fully facing you, holding both of your hands in his. When you didn’t answer, he continued.

“I’ve been thinking, with everything that’s going on right now, who knows what's going to happen. The only thing I know is that I want to spend every second I may have left with you. Now, I know I don’t have a ring, and-”

“Yes!” You shouted, throwing your arms around him and sending you both back to the ground. 

You had been looking for him for almost an hour now, ducking into classrooms and hiding around corners to avoid as many death eaters as you could. You had just walked out into the courtyard when you saw him. He was on his broom, knocking down death eaters left and right. He was laughing.

You couldn’t help but smile. Of course Fred would be laughing at a time like this. However, your smile quickly fell as you saw a curse fly by his head, and hit the wall next to him, causing it to start to collapse.

“Fred!” You screamed, but he was too far away. You quickly shouted a spell, causing some of the falling bricks to fly in the opposite direction, but didn’t notice the debris now falling towards you. Not until a sharp pain ran through your head, and the world went dark.

“Y/N, baby wake up its ok” Fred’s voice called, shaking you lightly. You jolted awake, a cold sweat covering your body as you took in your surroundings. 

It had been going on for weeks now, the nightmares. Whether it was replaying the night the Burrow burned down, or when George got hurt, or when death eaters attacked the school. The memory would always be exactly how it happened, except they always ended with you watching Fred die, before dying yourself.

Fred gently rubbed circles into your back, helping you catch your breath and calm down. Your began to fill with tears, and despite you quickly wiping them away, Fred still noticed.

“What’s wrong love?” Fred asked, making you take in a shaky breath.

“So much has already happened. We’ve already lost so much. And it still isn’t over. I just want it to be over” You sobbed, leaning into Fred's chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“It will all be over soon, I promise. Tomorrow we go to Hogwarts, and then it will be over” Fred said comfortingly.

“How do you know?” You asked, your tear filled eyes looking up to meet his.

“I just know”

You awoke to the sound of yelling, causing you to quickly sit up. You winced as pain flooded your senses, reaching up to your head and pulling your hand away to see blood. You blinked quickly, trying to clear your vision so you could see the scene before you. 

The entire wall from before had collapsed, and as you scanned the wreckage, there was no red head to be found.

You quickly stood, your head spinning a bit at the action but you ignored it,  quickly running to the rubble and falling to your knees as you began to dig through the rocks. 

“No no no, Fred!” You shouted, trying to find any sign of movement, looking to your left to see a flash of red hair.

Fred.

You ran over to him, falling to your knees so you could better look him over. He was unconscious, but breathing, however most of his right leg was now covered by the rubble, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Y/N!” You heard from a ways away. It was George.

“Were here! Help us!” You shouted back, looking back to Fred. He was covered in dust and dirt, his leg was mangled and he had a cut above his left eye. But he was alive.

A week had past. A week since the battle of Hogwarts, and the end of the war, but Fred still hadn’t woken up. Madam Pomphrey was able to heal Fred’s leg a bit, but he had a severe concussion, and would need to spend some time at the hospital to heal.

You and George had spent a lot of time together in his hospital room, neither one of you wanting to leave his side, but after a few days, you promised George you would call as soon as Fred woke up, so he could go home and spend some time with his fiancé Angelina.

You were currently sitting beside Fred’s hospital bed, making small doodles on the cast that was now covering his right leg. The doctors were able to help a lot with the healing process, but the bone still needed time to fully heal.

You had just finished a very crude drawing of a hippogriff, when-

“Doing a self portrait are we?” Fred asked, grabbing your attention.

You jumped up from your chair, throwing the pen in your hand somewhere across the room before closing the space between you, and engulfing him in a hug.

“You absolute idiot! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” you sobbed, pulling back so you could hold Fred’s face in your hands.

“Glad to see you too” He chuckled, his voice a bit gravely from lack of use, but you didn’t notice, or care. Fred was ok, and that’s all that mattered.

“I was so worried” You choked, tears still running down your face, which Fred gently wiped away.

“Well, I couldn’t die without giving you a proper wedding now could I?” He teased, making you let out a small laugh.

“What happened here?” He asked after a moment, reaching his hand up to gently brush across the large bruise and stitches on the side of your forehead.

“You were literally crushed by a building, and you’re worried about me?” You asked ridiculously.

"Of course” he said simply, before smiling and pulling your face towards him to connect your lips to his. 

You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your moving to sit next to him on the bed to allow you easier access, and for him to deepen the kiss further.

“You know” He said, interrupting the kiss “Scars are super hot”

“Shut up” You smiled, shoving him a bit.

“No seriously, those stitches are a major turn on, maybe we could- ow!” Fred started, but you interrupted him by poking his bad leg, reminding him that any funny business he was planning would have to wait.

“You’re such a pain” You giggled

“That’s no way to speak to your husband!” Fred said with mock offence.

“Well technically, you’re not my husband yet” You argued.

“Fine, second thing were doing when I get this cast off is officially getting married!”

“What’s the first thing?” You asked, causing a smirk to cross his face.

“First, I’m gonna take off your clothes and-”

“Fred!”

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

A/N: I made it a bit more angsty than I thought I would but I think it works with the situation. Also, yeah they aren’t ‘officially’ married, but they are to themselves so that’s what matters most lol. I hope you liked it!

Tag list:

@levylovegood

@imonlyherecauseimbored

@sebby-staan

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley angst #fread weasley fluff

[nastybuckybarnes]

A Broken Fairytale  -  Four

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Angst, Language (Maybe), Fluff (Squint for it)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Now we’re getting somewhere. Plz enjoy dis

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST UNEDITED CAUSE IM A SILLY GOOSE

~*~

“Rumour has it you’re going to the ball tomorrow night in a new fancy dress, as Prince Steve’s personal guest.” You find yourself smiling as you polish the marble floors. May stands a few feet away, cleaning the large stained-glass windows.

“He insisted. Taught me to dance too.” She laughs softly. “Mary showed me the gown. It's beautiful. I can hardly wait to see what it looks like on you.” You giggle, “she hasn’t let me allowed me near it. I can only imagine what it looks like. I’ve been dreaming about it for days.” You sigh wistfully. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Prince Steve has gotten you some jewelry and lip rouge as well. Oh, you’ll so beautiful. I just hope you and Wanda don’t get too comfortable out there with all those dukes and duchesses and princesses and princes.”

You turn to her with a soft smile, “never.”

~

“Goodness, Steven. Your skills are... incredible. Truly. This is really just... utterly exquisite,” Queen Winifred whispers. Steve chuckles nervously and scratches the nape of his neck. “Well... I’ve recently found some inspiration.” He flips to the first sketch of you and his aunt and mother both gasp.

“That’s... (Y/n). The new one. Such a beauty,” Sara whispers while admiring the detailed sketch. Steve’s managed to catch every perfection. “She’ll be my guest tomorrow night. After all the hardships she’s been forced to endure in her life, a night of the finer things is the least I can offer her. She deserves it.”

Sara smiles at her son, “do you fancy her?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “No mother. Although she’s beautiful and smart with a kind heart and a good spirit, I fancy a different dame.”

Queen Winifred laughs gently while Sara ponders something.

“What is it, mother?” She looks up then sighs. “It’s foolish, but... the princess of Corona was taken as a baby nearly nineteen years ago. (Y/n), who is quite possibly from Corona, is almost nineteen. She was adopted as an infant by a wicked and cruel woman who might even be the type to kidnap a child in order to get her way. Perhaps?” Steve’s eyes widen at his mother’s suggestion.

“You think... you think (Y/n) is the lost Princess of Corona?” Queen Winifred thinks about this for a moment. “It is a possibility, but why then would Lady Griffon willingly give her to us? That seems counter-productive. If her goal is to stop the marriage.”

“Well, she sold (Y/n) as a servant girl, giving the impression that she isn’t who she truly is?” Sara purses her lips at her son's suggestion then nods. “I don’t think we should rule out her being the lost princess. Her locket is made out of silver which is quite common amongst the wealthy and royal in Corona. And it seems to be enchanted, which isn’t uncommon in our neighbouring kingdom,” Steve says.

“I want you to find out every little thing you can about her. And this shall stay between the three of us. No one else is to hear a breath about our theories. If (Y/n) is indeed the Princess, then I fear she may be in danger even here,” the Queen says sternly.

As the other two are nodding the door to Steve’s study gets pushed open.

“There you are, Steve. Mother, Aunt Sara.” Bucky bows quickly to the two women.

“My, what have we here?” The young prince looks at the sketch, his eyebrows raising. “This is (Y/n), correct?” Steve nods. “Your skills have certainly improved, punk,” Bucky teases while looking at the other drawings of you. “You fancy her, don’t you?” Steve simply rolls his eyes. “She provided inspiration. Innocence and beauty all encompassed in one.” Bucky nods, deep in thought.8

“Well, I suppose we’ll take our leave now,” Winifred says before walking out of the room with Sara right behind her.

“These are actually magnificent, Steve. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Would... can...” He groans as his cousin laughs at his flustered state.

“What? Would you like one? Or two perhaps? Maybe the entire sketchbook? I thought appreciating her beauty would do no one any good or whatever stupid excuse you spewed.” Bucky punches his shoulder.

“Quit being a punk. I just want one.” Steve smirks but carefully pulls out one of the finer sketches of you and hands it to his cousin. “It’s all yours. Do with it what you’d like, just don’t tell me what you’re doing.” Bucky punches him again and Steve snickers to himself.

The brunet holds the paper with a gentle hand, admiring the way you look in the picture. Beauty and innocence, just as Steve said.

~

“Okay... almost finished... just one last finishing flower...” Mary trails off and you twiddle your thumbs nervously as Wanda continues covering your eyes while Mary pulls on the gown clinging to your figure. “Okay, I’m gonna put your mask on and a tad bit of lip rouge. Then you’ll be ready.” You fight a smile as Wanda lifts her hands, only for a smooth cool fabric to take their place.

“Oh, you look like an Angel right out of heaven! Now, a teeny tiny bit of lip rouge, not too much because we don’t want to take away from the entire ensemble. Pucker your lips a tad, darling.” You do as she asks and jump slightly as you feel something waxy on your lips.

“Alright dear. You can look now.” You snap your eyes open and spin around in your new flats.

Your jaw drops as you see yourself in the mirror.

The gown is incredible. With a dark blue-grey chest, a navy blue bow cinching your waist and making you look curvier. The skirt is made of a lovely pink fabric, covered in a navy chiffon-type fabric. It has small fabric flowers and gems decorating it, but not too many. The mask is the same pink as the gown, however, it has gold trim and some embellishments in the same colour, as well as a little bow and some lace.

You look... stunning. Like royalty.

“Wow. You look beautiful.” You look to the voice and smile. “Thank you, Pietro. You look quite handsome.” He chuckles then walks to his sister, who looks absolutely gorgeous in a floor-length, figure-hugging red velvet dress. Her mask matches her dress and her hair is flowing down her back.

“Steve asked me to escort you to the ball. He’ll meet you there for a dance.” You smile lightly. “So you’ll be escorting not one beautiful woman but two to the Queen's masquerade ball? Will you dance with us both?” Wanda teases. Her outfit matches her brothers and you can’t help but smile at that.

“I do plan on dancing with both of you at some point tonight, however, I think Steve craves the first dance with you, (Y/n).” You smile timidly and Wanda giggles, “does he fancy her, do you think?” You shake your head furiously, “Steve and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Wanda smirks deviously at you.

“You don’t fancy Steve... what about Prince James? Do you fancy him? You have been looking at him quite often ever since he ran into in the library. When the two of you talked for quite some time.” You shake your head again, “I hardly know him, Wanda. How could I possibly fancy someone I know nothing about?” She shrugs, a sly smile still plastered on her face.

“Then why are you fiddling so much? And why do you always fiddle when he comes up in conversation?” She motions to where your fingers are playing with a bead on your dress. “You like his royal stiffness? Pain-in-the-ass Prince James? Bitchy Bucky?” You glare at the twins. “No. I don’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be your concern and it wouldn’t matter anyway. He's royalty, and I’m not.” Pietro gingerly links his arm through yours.

“You could be a Princess. There’s something... regal and royal about you. You should be wearing a crown, not scrubbing the floors.” You smile gently up at him. “I should be here with Wanda and May. If I were born royal then I might not have met you or any of my friends. I like who I am.” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Now, we should be going. I can hear music and laughter already,” Wanda says while taking her brother’s other arm. Pietro escorts the two of you to the ball, smiling as he meets up with Sam, Nat, and Clint.

“I see you’ve already taken (Y/n) for yourself,” Sam says, looking you up and down. “You look like royalty. You’ll make visiting Princesses jealous.” You laugh softly, “thank you, Sam.” He smiles and offers you his arm.

After a glance to Pietro, an eye roll and a nod given, you let go of his arm and take Sam’s.

“Steve’ll be arriving shortly, along with Bucky, the King, the Queen, and Lady Sara,” Sam informs as you reach the ballroom doors. You nod, your jaw almost dropping as you enter the ballroom.

It’s filled with people -men and women- dressed to the nines in clothes that cost more than you’ll make in your entire lifetime.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Nat asks while coming up beside you in a light green dress with a mask to match. “It’s... intimidating if I’m being honest.” Natasha rests a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like you belong here. Even if you feel like you don’t, you look like you do, so act like it. No one will know anything that’s true or not.” You smile at her words and take a big breath in. Squaring your shoulders you raise your head and walk with Sam into the room.

The people you pass stop their conversations and stare at you as Sam leads you to the centre of the room right across from a large staircase.

Conversations hardly have time to grow before a horn sounds loudly, gathering everyone’s attention.

“May I present Lady Sara, Her Majesty Queen Winifred, and his Majesty King George.” The royal family walks down the stairs as graceful as swans with their chins held up high and smiles on their faces.

“Wow. (Y/n) you look... incredible.” You smile shyly up at the man speaking, having recognized his voice. “Thank you, your highness.” Sam snickers while Steve rolls his eyes.

“Now, I must steal you from Sam. May I?” Sam places your hand in Steves and you find yourself giggling as Steve walks you deeper into the room.

“Mary absolutely outdid herself,” Steve says while admiring your gown and mask. “She did. You look rather dashing yourself.” His cheeks flush and he looks down while chuckling.

He’s wearing a well-tailored grey suit and a matching mask. The suit hugs his body perfectly and the mask brings out the vibrant blue in his eyes. And of course, there’s a lovely silver crown sitting atop his blond hair.

He smiles at you then takes a small half-step away from you as the band starts playing again.

“(Y/n), may I be the first of many men to ask tonight, if I may have the honour of this dance?” You beam up at him.”Of course, Steve.” He takes your hand in his and places his other hand on your waist. You bring your free hand up to his shoulder and start dancing with him.

People around you mumble and whisper. as Steve dances you around the floor.

“They’re wondering who you are. They know who I am, but no one knows the Princess I’m dancing with,” he whispers, the cool fabric of his mask brushing against your cheek. You look down, away from the curious and envious eyes of the upper-class men and women.

“They’re making me quite nervous,” you reply softly, grinning as he chuckles.

“Well, I doubt any of them know who you are. So what they think doesn’t matter anyway.” You nod, trying to let his words ease your nerves.

The song comes to a close and Steve sighs.

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice says, “but may I?”

You look up at the man and smile awkwardly as he takes Steve’s place. A new song starts and you dance with him, feeling exceptionally nervous.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met you,” he says after a moment, his brown eyes warm and filled with wonder. “You haven’t. This is the first ball I’ve ever attended.”  He spins you then nods. “You’re stunning. Have you any suitors? Husbands?” You shake your head no. “None at all.” He smiles, “what a shame for them. I’d like-” a hand is on his shoulder, stopping him from dancing with you.

“May I cut in?” That voice makes butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Of course, your highness.” The man disappears and Prince James takes his place, one of his hands fitting perfectly in yours while the other rests comfortably on the curve of your waist.

He starts leading you in a dance, keeping your body close to his.

“You look ravishing,” he whispers, his thumb rubbing on your hip. “Why thank you, your majesty.” He smiles, his hand slowly moving around your waist.

“Do you have a name?” You grin as you realize he doesn’t know who you are, a wave of confidence washing over you.

“I do have a name.” He chuckles and pulls you closer to his warm body. “May I be so bold as to ask what it is?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying - and failing- to contain your smile. “Maybe. But do you deserve to know?” You’re honestly not sure where this much confidence comes from, but you’re liking it more than you want to admit.

“I think I do. But let’s say, for argument's sake, that I don’t deserve to know. What could I do to change that?” You slowly look up, your eyes lingering on his pink lips before moving up to his stormy orbs.

“I suppose I’ll have to think about that,” you whisper. His eyes flash down to your lips and you can’t help but lick them/ His fingers flex on your waist and you smile, watching as his eyes meet yours again. “Please do.”

The two of you dance in silence for a few minutes before he chuckles. “What?” You ask, smiling slightly, “do I amuse you?” He shakes his head and sighs heavily.

“You’ve bewitched me. Your voice... your beauty... like nothing I’ve ever experienced in all of my years. Have you and suitors?”

You swear your jaw drops.

“Forgive me, Prince James, but are you not betrothed? To the Princess of Corona?” He shakes his head and looks deep into your eyes. “I do not wish to marry someone who I know nothing about.” You find yourself giggling softly.

“And what do you know about me?” He looks down, seemingly shy. “I know that you’re like no woman I’ve ever met before. I know that I know nothing about you when I’d really just like to know everything. I know that not a day will pass where I don’t think of you. You’ll be in my every dream ‘till the day I die.”

You can’t seem to find any words.

“I’ll ask my father and yours if I can court you. If you’d give me the opportunity, of course.” You’re shocked, to put it lightly. “I-I can’t. You’re betrothed. I couldn’t interfere with that. I’m sorry, Prince James, but I cannot.”

You break away from him and hurry out of the ballroom, desperate to breathe. You remove your mask and lean against the wall, trying desperately to catch your breath.

“You weren’t sold to go to balls and celebrations as a guest,” an all-too-familiar voice says. You straighten up and look at the woman.

“Step-mother,” you begin, “I was invited. By Prince Steve-” a slap to the face cuts you off and you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. “You won’t speak of the Princes! You are filth!” She raises her hand to strike you again and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

When it never comes, you open your eyes.

Steve’s holding your step-mothers wrist and another woman is rushing over to your side, giving little thought to her expensive gown as she slides down to the floor beside you.

“Guards!” Steve calls, “escort Lady Griffon and her daughters out of here. Don’t make a scene about it either.” You watch as the woman who raised you gets escorted out of the palace that has recently become your home.

“Are you alright, child?” The woman beside you asks, her voice gentle and soft. “Yes, I-I believe I am. Thank you.” She smiles and lightly places her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/n) I’m so sorry,” Steve says. You wave off his apology and take a deep breath, trying to calm down.

“Queen Valerie, thank you for letting me know. (Y/n), this is Queen Valerie of Corona. Queen Valerie, this is (Y/n). A very close friend of mine.” You look at the woman beside you and scramble to your feet, only to bow before her. “Y-your Highness.” She shakes her head and stands up, “no need for that. You’re sure you’re alright?” You nod your head yes then clear your throat.

“I... I’m going to retire to my chambers. Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Queen Valerie, I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” They nod and watch as you hurry up a flight of stairs.

“Where’s she from?” Queen Valerie asks while Steve’s escorting her back to the ballroom.

“We’re not sure. She was adopted by Lady Griffon as a baby. She has a locket that seems to be enchanted from Corona so we do believe she may be from there. How she ended up here, I know not. Perhaps you have an idea?” The Queen on his arm clutches her necklace tightly.

“I mustn’t let myself hope,” she whispers softly, letting go of Steve’s arm and heading back to find her husband, leaving the young prince confused out of his wits.

~

“Mother, Father, I need your help!” Bucky exclaims, walking to where his parents are seated. “What is it, my son?” Winifred asks concern lacing her voice.

“A dame, beautiful as a sunrise. I want to court her. She’s...” He trails off while looking around, trying to find you.

“My son, you know you are to be marred. There’s no way you could court her. What is her name?” Bucky stares at the door where he saw you last.

“I don’t know. But mother, her voice was that of an angel. Her eyes sparkled brighter than diamonds. Her smile... I have no words to describe her beauty.”

Winifred sighs and takes her sons hand. “If everything fails with Corona, then you may court the girl. Is she a Duchess? Or perhaps a Princess?” Bucky sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

“She was dancing with the Duke of Winchester,” King George chimes in, looking around the room.

“I’ll ask him!” Bucky practically runs through the crowd.

“You shouldn't give him hope, George. He’s betrothed. You know he’s meant to marry the Princess of Corona,” Winifred scolds. “Let the boy have his fun. He knows his responsibilities. And if we go to war with Corona, he’ll have this Duchess or Princess or whoever she is. You’ll get a grandchild or two and James will get a strong heir to the throne.” The Queen sighs at her husband and watches as her son talks to the Duke.

“I found her dancing with Prince Steve. A beautiful one, she is. I plan to court her, as soon as I figure out who her father is.” Bucky clenches his hands into fists and smiles tightly at the Duke before setting off to find his cousin.

“Steve! Who were you dancing with?” The blond looks up, slightly startled. “Who?” Bucky groans at his cousin’s response. “She was wearing pink. Her eyes, they’re beautiful and (e/c). She was... a dream.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “You mean (Y/n)?” Bucky freezes, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. “(Y/)? Like... servant girl (Y/n)?” Steve nods slowly and Bucky curses. “Why? Is something wrong?” Bucky pulls Steve into the hallway and looks around to make sure they’re alone, then he rips his mask off and tosses it aside.

“She’s. stunning. Beautiful and witty. I asked if I could court her. But she’s not of noble blood. Fuck. What do I do?” Steve pats his cousin's shoulder.

“Talk to her. You don’t need to formally court her. Does your mother know that you fancy her?” He asks. “Yes, but she reminded me of my betrothal when I spoke of her.” Steve snickers despite his cousin’s glare.

“Winifred knew that was (Y/n). I had her help me design the dress.” Bucky chuckles at this, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Of course she did. She enjoys seeing me in pain.” Steve sighs and looks towards the staircase where you disappeared to. “Lady Griffon was here. She got mad and struck (Y/n). I had the vile woman escorted out and (Y/n) went to her chambers. You should go check on her.” Bucky looks at his cousin as if he’d grown a second head.

“Lady Griffon Struck (Y/n)?” Steve nods, “go see if she’s alright.” I’ll cover for you.” Bucky nods before he can think too hard about it. His feet bring him through the Palace and up the stairs until he’s outside of your room.

He knocks twice then slowly pushes the door open, looking around the room for you. Humming from the bathroom gets his attention and he realizes you must be bathing.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, you walk out of the bathroom. Bucky’s frozen, staring at you and you’re frozen, staring at him.

You're wrapped in a thin towel, water dripping down your skin and pooling at your feet.

“Your Highness. W-what are you doing in here?” He doesn’t answer, too busy staring at your body. You shift nervously and his eyes snap up to yours. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

You swallow hard and hold the towel tighter around your body.

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.”

He walks towards you and you back up, gasping as your back hits the wall.

“You’re a fantasy? A dream? No, you’re much more than that.” He cages you against the wall between his strong arms and stares in your eyes.

“W-what do you mean? What do you want from me?” He closes his eyes for a moment before cracking a half-smile. “I told you,” he whispers, “I want to court you.” You cast your eyes down, shaking your head at him.

“I met Queen Valerie. You’re betrothed to her daughter. I don’t want to interfere,” you breathe.

He carefully lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you. Tell me that honestly and I’ll leave you be.” You shake your head and close your eyes tightly.

“I’d be lying.”

Those three words are all it takes for his control to shatter.

His hands grip your waist through the towel, holding you tightly as he presses his chest against yours. You pull in a shaky breath, your palms hesitantly resting on his shoulders.

“May I touch you?” You nod breathlessly, gasping as he tugs the towel down a tad. His right-hand cups your cheek while his left ventures beneath the towel, finding your damp skin.

“Someone could come in,” you whisper, head tilting back and eyes staying closed as his lips ghost over your neck.

“Let them,” he murmurs, gently nipping your neck as his left-hand curls around your back under your towel.

You shiver, arching up into him at the foreign feeling of his warm skin on your own. “James.” Your voice is a soft whisper and the Prince grins, his right hand leaving your cheek to pull your towel down a bit more.

“I want you, (Y/n).” You whimper softly, your fingers raking through his soft brown hair. “You’re all I want. Screw my betrothal.” The mention of his betrothal brings you back to reality and you push him off of you.

“This… this isn’t right,” you whisper while pulling the towel tighter around your body.

“Yes. This is right. This is so so right.” He leans down and kisses your lips almost roughly.

“James. James stop,” you mumble against his lips.

He doesn’t stop.

“Stop! Get off of me!” You exclaim, shoving him off of you as hard as you can.

“(Y/n) I-“ “Get out. Get out!”

He looks shocked and reaches out for you.

“Get out now.”

You move under his arm and across the room, eyes staying focused on the Prince.

“(Y/n) please. Just let me-“ “No! You’re to be married and I’m of poor blood! Please, just leave.” Your hands start to tremble as anxiety floods your body.

The Prince turns and leaves without another word, his heart aching and his stomach churning.

~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky  @wildefire @inumorph  @impalatobakerstreet  @nanna022  @mummy-woves-you  @m-a-t-91  @wtfholland  @bookgirlunicorn  @beautifulwisdom2001  @deep-sea-glitter  @mrhiddles-81  @iamwarrenspeace  @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles  @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67

MARVEL:

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BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens

A BROKEN FAIRYTALE:

@starkxpotts @barnesandnoble13 @paranoiadestroyah @theonelittleone @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @derekxsammy @nerd-without-a-cause @coal000 @lilypalmer1987 @consumedbyfanfics @tanelle83 @fultimefangirl @apollolikescello @buckysthing @emilysallysmith @krystallynx @unscriptedtimetraveler @buckyinantarctica @the-surviving-revolutionist @seafrost-fangirl @londonalozzy @roxytheimmortal @strawberryblogg @rosariia25 @godsofimmortality @bookgirlunicorn @ign-is @afterglowamsy @doublephoeenix @littledeadrottinghood @jsmith509 @alexaduke @m00nlightdelights @denimandcabernet @crystalchrysalis19

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #prince bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader au #reader inserts #buck reader inserts #marvel fanfic

[allofthisnonsenseplease]

Nightrunner fic: The Light Prince

A/N: This is hugely self-indulgent and Seregi is ooc all the way through. To be fair, there’s a reason for that last, but still.

Fusion with The Light Princess by George MacDonald.

It got to be too weird having a finished fic unposted, but I can’t really say this is any good, so I’m going to compromise and not put it in the tags.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Lynn Flewelling’s Nightrunner series and do not belong to me.

1. An Inauspicious Christening

Once upon a time, in a land so cluttered with kingdoms and queendoms that it was nearly impossible to throw a rock without hitting a palace, there lived a King and Queen in the country of Bôkthersa. They were as happy a couple as could be found, save for one thing. Although his dear wife, Queen Illia, had given him four daughters, King Korit yearned for a son. After years of trying, his wish was finally granted, but the cost was far higher than he had expected. His beloved wife died in childbirth, leaving him behind with their four daughters and a squalling infant son.

Stricken with grief and remorse, the King nevertheless meant to honor the customs of his people. In the midst of the month of mourning, he arranged for the christening of his son, whereupon the boy would be given his name. Invitations were sent out to kings and queens, princes and princesses in all corners of the land. In his sorrow, however, there was one person who he forgot to invite. In the normal course of events, such an oversight would be a minor embarrassment, but nothing terribly troubling. Unfortunately, in this case, the person the King had forgotten to invite was none other than Princess Phoria of Skala, a proud and cunning woman with little love for his people and a long memory for grudges.

When Phoria realized that she had been excluded, though her mother and both sisters and even her twin brother had been invited, she was incensed. No practitioner of the magical arts herself, she found a wizard willing to brew up a curse which she would then be able to activate with the simple application of a few herbs and a short incantation. Thus armed, she contrived to attend the christening, pretending that she had not noticed the slight, while the King remained unaware that he had even forgotten her.

In the milling confusion before the guests took their places for the ceremony, Phoria emptied into the font a packet of fine powder that had been mixed up for her by her wizard. Then, she had only to wait until the infant was sprinkled with the water and christened with his name. When she heard the King pronounce the name of his son—Seregil—she knew the moment was ripe and spoke the spell under her breath.

"Light of spirit, by my charms, Light of body, every part, Never weary human arms— Only crush thy father's heart!"

In an instant, the reverent silence was broken by a squeal of laughter from the infant Prince. The sound of it masked the gasp of Princess Adzriel, his oldest sister, who happened to be holding him. Although no one saw that anything was amiss as she clutched her brother tightly, in an instant, she had felt all the weight go out of his tiny body.

Prince Seregil's laughter continued unabated in shrills and gurgles of joy. Thinking that the magic she had purchased had failed, Phoria spent the remainder of the ceremony in an even worse temper than she had been in when she had initially been slighted. It was only toward the end of the evening that she noticed the first sign that all was not well. Adzriel was drawing the King away, speaking low and urgently to him and holding out his son to him.

When King Korit took the boy, his face betrayed his shock. He hefted the baby, but his grip must not have been sure. At the height of his lift, Seregil floated free, cooing happily, and came to rest against the ceiling. He hovered there quite contentedly and with no apparent inclination to drift back down, while gasps and cries of alarm came from the crowd below.

By all accounts a difficult woman to please, Phoria's lips pressed thin in a dissatisfied line as she watched and wondered if her revenge had truly been served.

2. The Gravity of the Situation

The curse—which must never have been properly explained to Phoria, as she would merely have scoffed at the idea and found a different wizard—robbed Prince Seregil of his gravity. Never again did the baby cry or wail. Instead, squeals and shrieks of laughter issued from him in response to any stimulus. And although such a cheerful baby was almost universally loved despite the unfortunate circumstances of his birth, his condition did give rise to certain unusual and awkward situations.

A nurse, bouncing the infant one day, let her grip relax too much and, before she knew it, Seregil was laughing his baby laugh while looking down at her from the ceiling. The same mistake was made by the King and two of the Prince's sisters. One evening as they sat at table, Seregil was accidentally let go up into the lofty ceiling of the dining hall. A ladder had to be sent for and placed carefully on the long table over the platter of venison. Even then, the servant sent to fetch the Prince down could not reach him. In the end, the baby had to be handed down after being snagged by a pair of tongs.

Special care had to be taken even when the Prince was laid in his cradle. A mishap one afternoon involving open windows and a mischievous breeze left the castle all in an uproar when it was discovered that Seregil had been whisked away out of the palace. He was eventually found in the garden, having been blown into a hedge of roses. His skin was scratched from the thorns, but no lasting harm was done, and from then on, it was always made certain that a dozen silk cords secured his clothing to the sides of his crib.

King Korit was devastated. His wish for a son had cost his queen her life, and had left him besides with a child that was in no way the boy he had wanted. Seregil was not a child he could teach to ride and hunt and fight as he had long dreamed of.

“Don't despair, Father,” Princess Adzriel said to him. “Perhaps he needs only to grow out of it.”

“Perhaps a cure will be found,” suggested Princess Mydri.

The Princesses Shala and Illina were of the mind that their brother ought to be sent away to someplace where he could be forgotten, so as not to bring further shame upon their family.

The King refused to send his son away, but the loss of his wife had stolen his ability to hope. His heart remained heavy as stone, as if it had taken on all the gravity that Seregil so sorely lacked.

Although the King lamented both his loss and his son's fate, Princess Adzriel doted on the child, and Prince Seregil was the darling of the servants. There was nothing they could do that didn't please the infant, and he was coddled and bounced and played with all the hours of the day. One of the games they loved best to play with him was ball, and Seregil enjoyed it no less for actually being the ball himself. Peals of laughter rang out as he was tossed from one pair of hands to another and, although they had to be careful not to toss him into a hearth or allow him to get tangled in a chandelier, at least there was no danger in dropping him.

As the years passed, Prince Seregil grew into as fine, handsome, and healthy a young man as anyone could have asked for. The only flaw in his constitution was his continuing lack of gravity. He had learned to make his way by taking up large rocks in either hand, and these had the effect of weighing him back down to earth between his bounding steps, but nothing worn on his person would do. Indeed, anything from his heavy winter cloaks to his fine golden crown would lose its own gravity as soon as he put it on. After one too many close calls where Seregil had accidentally dropped his ballast, King Korit finally decreed that he was not to be allowed out without an escort of half a dozen men holding lengths of silken cord tied to his clothes, along with as many mounted riders—just in case he should slip his leashes. Adzriel also insisted that he always carry on his person a small grappling hook on a length of rope in case of emergencies.

Outings with Seregil were always merry, as the Prince laughed at everything, and took no offense when his strange gait encouraged laughter in others. One step would send him up into the air, feet moving as if he could still propel himself forward, while his direction was at the mercy of any breeze that chose to blow past. His ballast would see him brought back down to earth until another step kicked him off again and then up he would go.

Inspired by these foreshortened flights, Seregil had on more than one occasion confided in fits of giggles that he should like nothing more than to be tied to a very, very long cord and flown like a kite. If his father's heart had not long since been broken, that particular bit of silliness might have been the final blow to it.

Given his unusual method of locomotion, it was hardly uncommon for him to be blown off course and into one of the courtiers or servants that surrounded him constantly. In fact, Seregil had claimed his first kiss in just such a manner. Rushing to greet his sister Adzriel one day, an ill-timed puff of air had caught him mid-stride—that is, a few feet off the ground as he began his descent—and sent him directly into the path of a young man not much older than he named Ilar. Lips already puckered to kiss his sister's cheek, Seregil collided head on with Ilar, who was only too happy about the misplaced affection. His happiness did not last overlong, however. Although Ilar fancied the Prince, Seregil could not take him seriously at all, and the laughter that remained the constant response to Ilar's overtures in all their future exchanges eventually changed his infatuation to bitterness. Seregil didn't even notice when Ilar left the court to return to his own home.

Seregil's treatment of Ilar was but one example of how his comportment remained as unaltered by time as his exemption to the natural law of gravity. Nothing could be said to him that he would not laugh at, and nothing could happen that he did not find humorous. There was, however, a strange quality to the Prince's laughter, a sort of lack or hollowness at the center. At times, his laugh could sound quite brittle, but it went on all the same. It was his sister, Adzriel, who loved him best of all, who noticed that although her brother might be easily set off into fits of laughter, it did not reach his eyes. He rarely smiled.

He never cried, not even a single tear of mirth.

3. Try Everything—Something's Got To Work

Adzriel never gave up hope that the curse on her brother could be broken. She wrote to wizards, magicians, fortune tellers, oracles, physicians, and philosophers. She invited them all to Bôkthersa to examine Seregil, and visited those who could not or would not come. She was inundated with suggestions, both solicited and freely offered, and found that she discarded more of these potential cures than she tried, as many of them were ridiculous at best and dangerous at worst.

Thero í Procepios, a wizard of Orëska House, believed that something had gone wrong with the soul inhabiting her brother's body.

“Two souls, seeking out their appropriate habitations, must have somehow met, rebounded off each other, and lodged in the wrong bodies. It is no wonder the Prince is not subject to any natural influence—his soul belongs to another sphere. He must therefore be grounded in this world. Fill him with its history of every variety: animal, vegetable, mineral, social, moral, political, scientific, literary, artistic, musical, magical, and metaphysical. Fill him with the weight of the world he must dwell in.”

Adzriel had her doubts about the efficacy of this cure, but reasoned that knowledge never hurt anyone and saw to it that her beloved brother had the finest tutors.

Charis Yhakobin, an alchemist from Plenimar, paid a visit and proposed a more physical solution.

“It is his heart that's the problem. I believe that somehow the motion of it has been entirely reversed, drawing the blood in where it should be forced out, and forcing the blood out where it should be drawn in. In this manner, blood suffuses the body through his veins and returns through the arteries. With such an extraordinary reversal at work, it's really no wonder that other natural forces do not affect him as they would a normal person.”

It was at that point that he outlined his plan to correct the problem, a plan that involved draining the Prince's blood until he was at death's door, then re-setting the flow of new blood through his body through the use of ligatures around the left ankle and right wrist, and air-pumps over the right ankle and left wrist.

The alchemist was thanked politely for his time and expertise, and sent away without his experiment being carried out.

Another Plenimaran, a necromancer by the name of Vargûl Ashnazai, hypothesized that the Prince needed to be properly grounded, and should be buried alive for three years. Adzriel shuddered and burned his letter.

One of the ideas put forth time and again from various sources was that the Prince's gravity would be restored if he could be made to cry. To this end, Seregil was told that his favorite uncle had died (though in fact, he had not), was presented with the sorriest tale of woe from the kingdom's most unfortunate beggar, was made to listen to the most heart-rending ballads ever composed, and was even whipped quite soundly. Nothing had the desired effect, although his laughter during that last measure sounded unsettlingly close to screams.

It was even suggested at one point that perhaps the best thing for the Prince would be for him to fall in love...though how that would occur in a heart so strangely untouched by the larger spectrum of human emotion was a mystery.

Adzriel continued her efforts on her brother's behalf, refusing to lose hope despite the growing number of failed, nonsensical, and impossible cures she was presented with.

4. A Refreshing Dip in the Lake

As it turned out, there was one thing, discovered quite by accident, that mitigated the effects of the curse. The palace was located on the shore of a beautiful, deep, blue lake. One lovely summer day, as the court enjoyed itself on a fleet of small pleasure boats, Seregil took it into his head that he wished to visit with his friend, Kheeta, who was in one of the other boats. Given Seregil's unique nature, it would be easy enough to arrange the transfer. As the boats passed each other, Adzriel lifted up her weightless brother, laughing along with him, and went to toss him into Kheeta's arms. However, it so happened that a mischievous wave upset the motion of the boat just as the Princess stepped forward, causing her to trip. She let go of her brother as she went down, but her momentum had carried over to him, and down he went as well, past the railing and directly into the water where he promptly sank out of sight.

There was a general outcry. Accustomed as they were to their Prince's wayward habits of movement, none of them had ever seen him propelled downward in such a way. He had never sunk. Kheeta was into the lake in a flash, followed by several other members of the boating party. They searched frantically for Seregil, until a whoop and a splash drew their attention clear across the lake to where the Prince had surfaced. The entire party set out to retrieve him, but no entreaty would draw him out of the water. He stayed in until darkness fell, and returned at first light the next day.

Seregil dove and swam as if born to the water, quick and lively as an otter, and from then on, there was nothing and no one in the world that he loved so much as the lake. He spent most of his days swimming, even into winter, although he could not stay in quite so long once the water grew cold enough for ice to form on its surface. The water of the lake was the very same that had filled the font at his christening, been dosed with the magical powder, and sprinkled upon him. Whether through some flaw in the curse or by some other mechanism, it was within that water that Seregil regained something of what had been lost to him ever since that day.

So it was that Seregil grew to be a young man of seventeen, flighty and lighthearted, beloved by those who surrounded him at all times on land, but happiest when he could slip away alone into the lake.

5. Falling In

It happened one late spring day that a young woodsman named Alec made his way into the thick woods that skirted the mountains north of Bôkthersa and shaded one side of the lake. Unaware that he had stumbled into the royal forest, Alec explored the woods, captivated by the serenity and emerald beauty, by the lushness of the forest and the ready game it provided.

Eventually, on a warm evening when the moon was rising full and bright, he came to the shore of the lake. It captured the moon's brilliance in a million silvered wavelets, making it seems as if the stars had fallen to dance upon the earth. The scene was drenched in evening blue, and every branch, every leaf, every blade of grass was limned in silver. The air was cool and sweet, and fireflies winked on and off in the shadows. To his right, the land rose sharply into a small cliff crowned by trees and overhanging the deepest part of the lake. To his left, a sandy bank curved around the wide edge of the water toward the palace which was now just visible by its twinkling lights far in the distance. Realizing for the first time that his presence might be considered trespassing, he was about to turn around and leave the way he'd come when a sudden sound halted him in his tracks.

He thought he'd heard a shriek, though there was something odd about the sound. After a moment, he most certainly heard a splash. Looking out over the water, he spotted a pale form floundering not too far from where he stood. Thinking that it must be someone in need of aid, he waded in and swam to the rescue. There was some struggling, some panic, some considerable effort put into keeping both their heads above water, but Alec made it back to shore with the man he'd ostensibly saved, only to be treated to an enormous shock as the weight in his arms vanished as soon as he was lifted from the water.

Not knowing any better, Alec hefted his spluttering burden without making sure to hold on. The result was that Seregil found himself not only dragged out of his beloved lake, but heaved unceremoniously up into the air.

“You little scoundrel!” He shouted. “You villain! How dare you pull me down out of the water and throw me to the bottom of the air!” Never before had anything succeeded in putting Seregil into a passion, but then, no one had ever dragged him without warning out of the water.

“I beg your pardon?”

Heedless of the squelching of his waterlogged boots, Alec hurried after him as he drifted toward the trees. So amazed was he by the sight of the young man floating up into the air, that he only belatedly noticed the rather complete lack of clothing upon his airborne person. Blushing hotly, but finding it hard to look away, he watched in bewilderment as the floating man snatched desperately at a branch as he passed, pulling himself close enough to grab the one below it, then the one below that, hauling himself toward the ground as if climbing a ladder upside down.

“Well?” Seregil demanded once he was more or less righted. With no stones to hand, he relied on his grip on the lowest tree branch to be sure the wind didn't carry him off again. “What's your excuse for pulling me from my lake, boy?”

“I pulled you out because I thought you were drowning.” Being somewhat more concerned with modesty than the man whose life he had just tried to save, Alec very carefully kept his eyes averted.

“Drowning?” Seregil fell over laughing at the idea, rolling around in midair. “How could I possibly drown, you silly boy? If I could have my way I would become a merman and live in that lake!”

“You seem more bird than fish to me. How is it that you can fly?”

“I can't.” He laughed again at the suggestion, realized that he was drifting off like a bit of dandelion fluff, and caught at another tree. “Everyone says that I lack gravity. But do you know what? Sometimes I feel as if I am the only one in the whole world with any sense!” Delighted by his own revelation, Seregil was off again in a fit of laughter.

Alec followed along after him as he floated deeper into the trees, borne up by the wind. “Aren't you afraid that you'll float away?”

“All the time!” Seregil called back, and though he laughed as if this was the funniest thing of all, still it was true. Deep down, he had a fear of the air much like many people had a fear of heights. But while most people could avoid heights, it was impossible, without remaining always cooped up indoors, to avoid any sudden breeze that might whip up and carry him off.

The wind changed direction in the woods, driving up against the hill and pushing Seregil along before it as he was too weak with laughter to keep hold of any branch for long. Alec followed after him, amazed and curious and more than a little embarrassed by the unavoidable glimpses of certain bits of personal anatomy, until they neared the top of the cliff.

“You're running out of trees,” he warned. Then, remembering the scolding he'd gotten earlier, he asked: “Do you need any help?”

“What's your name?”

“Alec. And yours?”

“Seregil.” He reached out a hand, and Alec clasped it, reeling him in away from the empty air that threatened over the very top of the cliff. Seregil wrapped his arms around Alec's neck, pleased by the way the boy's deep blue eyes widened in surprise at his weightlessness, as well as by the charming blush dark enough to be apparent in the moonlight.

“Alec. As it so happens, I do need help. As you were the one who took me out of my lake, I want you to put me back in.”

“Easy enough.” Seregil was no burden at all, and the walk back down was a short one. As he turned however, he was interrupted by a laughing protest.

“Where are you going, silly boy? The lake is that way.” Seregil pointed to the top of the cliff, and Alec frowned at him.

“I'm sixteen. I've been on my own for almost a year now. I'm not a boy.”

“But you are silly, going the wrong way like that.”

Hesitantly, Alec walked them up to the top of the cliff, stopping a few steps back from the edge. “Look, I can't put you in the lake from up here. What if the wind catches you and blows you away again?”

Alec's hands were shaking, though not from holding Seregil up, as his weightlessness prevented strain. The cause was emotional, rather than physical. Just that very moment, he had discovered a rather powerful fear of heights. As he started to take a step back, Seregil jerked suddenly forward for a better look. Weightless he might be, but his grip around Alec's shoulders was sure, and suddenly Alec found himself off balance and stumbling forward. His foot came down on the very edge of the cliff, and for one heart-stopping moment, he thought he was safe. Then, the ground crumbled out from beneath him. His own wholly natural relationship with gravity took over and he found himself falling.

It was lucky for them both that the cliff face was concave so that there was nothing solid between them and the water. Still, the fall was terrifying for Alec, and he screamed and clutched at Seregil. Having never experienced anything quite like it before, Seregil gave one great shout of exhilaration before they plunged beneath the surface.

Alec shot back up in a moment, gasping and feeling as if his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. He spun, looking for Seregil, but it was several long seconds before he surfaced some yards distant. They swam toward each other, Seregil wide-eyed with wonder and Alec just as mad as the Prince had been when he'd pulled him from the lake.

“You idiot!” Alec shouted, whipping his hand through the water to splash Seregil. “You made us fall in!”

“That was falling in?” He ignored the angry splashing aside from raising one arm in halfhearted self-defense. “How wonderful! I've never fallen in before! Let's do it again!”

“Not on your life!”

“Everyone else obliges me.”

“Well, let everyone else dunk you in your damned lake, then.” Alec struck out toward shore, but Seregil followed him.

“No! This is my place! They follow me everywhere else, but not here. I want to fall in with you.”

“Absolutely not,” muttered Alec, whose heartbeat had still not returned to normal.

Seregil easily outpaced him in the water, swimming around to block his way and catch his hands. “At least come swim with me for a while.” He was amused by Alec, who treated him so differently from everyone else.

“No. I need to get out and dry off. I've got to get moving tomorrow.”

“Why?” Seregil played with him, letting Alec slip around to the side in order to get past, then diving so that he could surface in front of him once more. Slowly, slowly, he herded him away from the near shore.

“Because I don't think I'm supposed to be here. I wandered in by mistake.”

“Do you like our forest?”

For the first time, Alec paused, simply treading water to remain afloat. “I do. These woods are beautiful.”

“I can grant you permission to stay a while. If you'll agree to fall in with me each evening.”

Alec stared at him. “To do that, you'd have to be....” His eyes widened. Hadn't he overheard some talk a few weeks back? He'd gone into a village to trade for a few supplies, and heard the most ridiculous story about a prince who had to be tethered to his retainers lest he float away.

Seregil grinned at him. “Do we have a deal?”

The shock faded quickly, and Alec turned himself around in the water, scanning the shoreline of the lake. “Only if we can find someplace a bit less high up to jump from.”

6. What a Silly Thing to Be!

From the tail end of spring and on into the maw of a fiercely hot summer, Alec remained living in the woods near the lake. By day, he hunted and set his snares, skinned his catches and stretched out hides to dry, trimmed and fletched arrows, and occasionally ventured into the market to trade for bread or cheese or supplies he couldn't make himself. By night, he swam with Seregil: holding the Prince in his arms and jumping off rocks that stood the height of a man above the lake's surface, diving and splashing, racing through the water, or floating serenely upon the surface to count the stars and talk.

One of Alec's favorite things was when they swam down, down into the depths until they could look up and see the moon shining huge upon the surface, broken only by the occasional blue ripple, then they would shoot up through the water, bursting through that bright reflection, and stare up, gasping for air as the moon shone in the blue night as if from the bottom of the vast pool of the heavens. The breathtaking sight sometimes left Alec feeling dizzy, and he always knew when he looked particularly dazed because Seregil never failed to tease him about it.

Seregil teased him about a great many things.

On the second night that they met, Alec sat upon the bank, waiting for the last of the boating party that had accompanied the Prince in the waters near the castle to row back to shore. As the stars came out and the courtiers returned to the palace, he began to sing softly to himself. It was a simple hymn to Dalna the Maker, one of the few songs he knew, but presently, he heard a soft splashing and saw that Seregil had come into the shallows to sit only half-submerged, listening.

“You have a passable voice,” the Prince said when Alec fell silent. Pent up laughter made his voice thick, and in the next moment, he was doubled over with it, shoulders shaking, as he forced out: “I should have guessed you were a Dalnan! What a silly thing to be!”

“Why is that silly?”

“Why did you blush so prettily yesterday?”

Remembering Seregil's state of undress and supposing it would certainly be the same tonight, Alec felt heat rise to color his cheeks. “I'm not used to seeing others naked,” he muttered.

“Not used to seeing your own skin, either, if the way you smelled last night was anything to go by. Does Dalnan modesty prohibit disrobing for bathing, as well?”

Face burning, Alec stood up to leave. He paused only to scowl as Seregil started laughing again.

“Oh, come now, don't be like that! Why must everyone always be so serious?”

“I would suppose it's in our nature,” Alec said stiffly, wondering what had caused such an odd lack in Seregil's.

“If you're just going to be as tiresome as the rest, then I won't bother speaking with you.”

He turned away and swam off without a look back, leaving Alec, who had spent the entire day roaming the royal forest with Seregil's conditional permission, feeling increasingly guilty over not holding up his end of the bargain. It didn't seem as if that had been Seregil's intention, or that the Prince was playing coy. As far as Alec could tell, Seregil truly no longer had any interest in him. He sat back down on the bank, watching the play of silver light on the surface of the lake and tracking Seregil's movements, though he lost him for long moments whenever the Prince would dive beneath the surface.

Presently, Alec began to sing again. When that failed to get Seregil's attention, he got up and stripped down to his tunic, then walked the edge of the lake until he came to the cluster of rocks he had found that would do for jumping into the water. He climbed up onto them, then waited for Seregil to swim past.

“Would you like to jump in with me?” Alec called to him. “Or do I still stink?”

“A good swim will fix that!” Seregil called back, now hurrying eagerly toward him.

If he'd had any hard feelings over their earlier exchange, Alec couldn't tell. It would be a while longer yet before he would start to wonder if Seregil was even capable of such feelings.

That evening set the pattern for their meetings. Seregil would search him out once all the others had gone in, and Alec would spend time lifting his new friend out of the water and holding Seregil in his arms to jump back in, over and over again. It was always Alec who tired of falling in first, but Seregil never complained too strenuously about remaining in the water. They spent hours every night swimming together, talking, racing, competing to see who could dive deepest.

Seregil seemed to know at least a little bit about every subject in the world. His knowledge astonished Alec, who hadn't taken him for an attentive pupil. Alec's mistake was in supposing that the inability to take anything seriously meant that Seregil had no interest. On the contrary, everything was of interest to him, if only for how absurd it appeared from his point of view. Seregil had an excellent memory for details, and Alec found himself soaking up knowledge secondhand with a powerful thirst as Seregil's endless chatter covered all possible topics, from politics and history to fashion and gossip.

Aside from being intelligent, Seregil easily won all of their contests. Rather than being put off by the fact that he was slower in the water, Alec pushed himself to keep up until he was just as quick and could dive just as far and hold his breath just as long. Seregil barely seemed to notice. Win, lose, or draw, he only ever laughed at the end of their contests.

He did tease, however, quite mercilessly, although there was no malice in him. Once Alec had grown more accustomed to his friend's ways, he took no more offense than he would over a spot of inclement weather. And, despite the fact that Seregil laughed about everything—which was not, as Alec soon realized, the same as being happy about everything—he felt that maybe Seregil was just a little extra fond of him. He couldn't help but hope so, at any rate. Sometimes his friend would even say something that would nearly be enough for Alec to believe that.

“Perhaps I like you so much because your eyes look almost as blue as the depths of my lake,” Seregil told him one warm night in early summer.

He'd been very close, enough that their legs brushed beneath the surface while treading water. Alec hadn't known what to make of the words, not when Seregil looked almost serious as he said them, and not when he was comparing Alec to the one thing he could truly be said to love. Alec felt his face heat up under the scrutiny of those unusually serene gray eyes, and the awareness of the blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks only made him all the more embarrassed. The moment was shattered quite suddenly as Seregil laughed. Before Alec could think up a response, the Prince had spun and disappeared beneath the surface, off to enjoy himself alone. Left treading water by himself, the words suddenly felt like a joke, and Alec's heart sank.

He wasn't entirely sure what the warm, anxious feeling was that filled him up whenever he saw Seregil, but he worried quietly that he might be falling in love.

7. A Leak in the Lake

Summer drew slowly to a close, hot days lingering into autumn even as the evenings pulled chilling winds across the lake and made Alec all the more reluctant to leave the water each night. He and Seregil were playing around, tussling near the shore: tackling each other into the water, squirming free, and swimming back around to counterattack. Alec had by this time grown accustomed to Seregil's preference for swimming au naturale. Seregil had yanked Alec down under the water, then darted away grinning. Intent on revenge, Alec had come up behind him where he'd surfaced, treading water near the boulders they so often used as a jumping off point. Something about the set of Seregil's shoulders gave him pause, however. Rather than dunking his friend, Alec moved to get a better look at his face. Lit only by pale moonlight, Seregil looked pensive, an expression so enormously unlike him that a shiver of dread coursed through Alec's body.

“Seregil?”

The Prince didn't respond, only stared a moment longer at the rock beneath his hand. Then, without a word, without even a glance at Alec, he shot off through the water. Alec trailed him, watching Seregil flit from point to point along the shores of the lake, looking at something only he could see, and growing visibly more troubled as he went. No matter how many times Alec called his name, his concentration never wavered. Finally, as Seregil swam back around to the shadowed pool beneath the balcony to his bedroom, Alec caught his arm.

“Seregil, what's wrong?” He had never seen his friend like this, and was nearly in a panic himself.

Though Seregil's eyes met his, his gaze was troubled and unfocused. “I need to go,” he murmured. “Give me a boost.”

“Tell me what's going on,” Alec demanded.

Seregil only shook his head. With a sigh, Alec lifted him free of the water and heaved him gently upward. He watched his friend rise through the air until he could catch hold of the railing of his balcony and pull himself inside. Immediately, Seregil drew the curtains.

With a heavy heart, Alec started on his way back across the lake. From the onset of his confusing feelings for Seregil, he had tried to remind himself that anything more than friendly affection wouldn't be returned. Seregil's curse made it impossible. Hope was not so easy to kill, however, and it had insinuated itself a little deeper into the nooks and crannies of Alec's heart with every evening they had spent together. Now, suspecting that Seregil had noticed something wrong with the lake, Alec was left deflated by the painful reminder that his friend harbored no special feelings for him. Far from it.

Before leaving the water that evening, he examined all the same places that Seregil had looked at earlier, trying to fix their appearance in his mind's eye. Maybe whatever his friend had noticed would turn out to be nothing after all. If not, Alec wanted to be able to offer whatever help he could.

The very next morning, Seregil was out at the lake at first light. He swam completely around it, studying the water level in certain places and ordering that marks be painted at each one. His unheard of seriousness had stunned the servants that followed him, and it didn't help anyone's state of mind when he voluntarily left the lake as soon as he was done and shut himself up in his room.

Alec had slept through the entire spectacle, but he was awake when Seregil returned just before sunset to make another inspection of the lake. With a retinue trailing his friend, Alec stayed out of sight in the woods, but even from a distance, he saw Seregil's distress. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he watched Seregil abandon the lake after one swim around its edge, and he waited impatiently for everyone to leave before shedding his boots and breeches and wading in.

It took Alec no time at all to spot the marks painted that morning. Seeing them two handspans above the surface, the same dread certainly that affected Seregil now occurred to him.

The lake was sinking.

For the next several nights, Alec checked the marks regularly, but there was no denying the fact that the water level was dropping inexplicably quickly. The grasses and reeds growing along its shore began to dry up, and rock formations formerly hidden by depth were becoming visible just beneath the surface. After a few days, there was no longer any need to actually swim the circumference of the lake to tell that it was shrinking—the difference was plain to see from any vantage point.

To make matters worse, Seregil was more than simply upset by the discovery. Whatever power the water held over him was tied more strongly than anyone could have guessed. As the lake shrank, dying by inches, Seregil's strength began to fade. He kept to his room with the curtains drawn against the sight of the dwindling lake. He spoke less and less. His laughter died away to silence.

Even so, he still never cried.

Fearing for her brother's life, Adzriel redoubled her efforts to find someone who might be of use in restoring the lake. No one had any solution to offer, and no one could account for the sudden change. Day by day, the water continued to disappear, and Seregil's condition continued to worsen.

Forgotten, and terribly afraid for his friend, Alec felt alone and helpless, and grew increasingly more frustrated.

The only person to rejoice at the news was Princess Phoria. Having heard what joy Seregil took in his lake and how it eased the hearts of those who loved him, she had summoned the wizard who had first created the curse, and demanded that something be done to assure her revenge was not subverted. This time, the wizard went himself to see to the casting, the spell not being something that he could prepare in advance and leave to an ordinary person to cast.

Hidden on the steepest slope of the tallest mountain that cradled the palace of Bôkthersa was a narrow opening only just barely big enough for a slender man to squeeze through. The wizard made his way to that crevice and crept along it in darkness until he came to the very heart of the mountain. Here, the walls fell back to create a small cave with an ancient, iron-banded oak door locked fast opposite the entrance.

The wizard called up light, then a wooden tub, then water to fill the tub. He pulled a bit of dried snakeskin from his robes, and tossed it into the water. Adding a magical powder, he stirred the water with his arm until a snake as white as new-fallen snow lifted its head from the tub to regard him with its milky eyes. The wizard allowed the snake to drape its coils along his arm and around his shoulders, then pulled out an iron ring that held a hundred iron keys. Taking the first key in hand, he opened the wooden door, stepped through, and locked it behind him. A few stone steps led him down, then he encountered a second door. He unlocked this with the second key, stepped through, locked it back behind himself, and went a few more steps down to the third door. So he continued, unlocking and locking, progressing a few steps, and pausing at another door until he had gotten through all one hundred doors leading down into the bowels of the earth.

A vast chamber lay beyond the hundredth door, with stone pillars as big as trees holding up the ceiling. The wizard lifted his hand, and the snake uncoiled, stretching up toward the ceiling of the cavern, head swaying from side to side as if seeking a scent on the rock. Muttering spells, the wizard walked a circuit around the cavern, gradually spiraling inwards as he went around and around until he reached the very center. There, the snake suddenly lunged, sinking its fangs into the stone.

For three days and three nights, the wizard sat and spoke the words of his spell. After the third night, the snake shriveled away once more. All was still for a long moment, then a drop of water condensed where the serpent had worked at the stone, grew fat and heavy, and fell to the floor of the chamber with an echoing splash.

With all haste, the wizard fled the cavern, unlocking each of the hundred stout doors and locking them back behind himself as he fled. As he went, the sound of rushing water gradually rose to fill the passageway.

The very last thing the wizard did before leaving Bôkthersa to report back to Princess Phoria was to walk the land surrounding the lake. At every river and waterfall he encountered, he threw in a pinch of his magic powder. Every source of water dried up. Not a spring, creek, or rill remained to replenish the lake. In time, it would go completely dry, and the task set him by the Princess would be complete.

8. There is Always a Price to be Paid

The dwindling lake left the residents of the palace beside themselves with worry. Adzriel continued to follow every path of inquiry opened to her. Mydri spent much of her time at Seregil's bedside, nursing him and trying to coax him to eat, though he would take no nourishment but lake water. His condition continued to deteriorate so that there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he wouldn't survive the death of his beloved lake. King Korit took the news gravely, retreating into the heartache that had never quite left him after his wife's death.

The palace fell into a mourning quiet, made all the more apparent by the fact that for the first time in seventeen years, Seregil's laughter did not ring through the halls. Outside, the lake steadily drained away, leaving bare, glistening banks strewn with all manner of refuse and dead creatures. The muck baked in the sun and stank of rot, and still the waters receded. Alec retreated further into the forest during the day to escape the stench, but he still returned to the lake shore every evening with the dwindling hope of seeing his friend. He sang his Dalnan hymns and racked his brain for anything he could do that might be of use.

The lake was almost completely dry before a solution presented itself.

One day, a group of children scavenging along the lakebed came upon a golden shield. Inscribed upon it was a simple verse that no one could make heads or tails of.

"Death alone from death can save. Love is death, and so is brave— Love can fill the deepest grave. Love loves on beneath the wave."

The shield was brought to the temple of the Ruhi'auros in the hopes that one of them could make sense of it. Soon enough, the mystics came back with an answer.

There was but one way to restore the lake and save the life of the dying Prince Seregil. The hole through which the water was draining away must be found and plugged, but it could not simply be stopped up by normal means. A willing sacrifice must agree to block the hole, giving up their life as the lake filled in over their head. This was the price for restoring the lake and the rivers that nourished the valley, and for saving the Prince in the process.

Shaken by such a revelation, Adzriel still wasted no time in issuing a proclamation. Word of the curse and the cure was spread throughout the city and the surrounding villages, but no one stepped forward to volunteer. Days passed as the lake grew dangerously dry. Adzriel was considering taking on the burden herself, and leaving one of her sisters to become their father's heir in her stead, when Alec, having finally left the woods long enough to hear the proclamation, announced himself at the palace gates.

One mention of needing to speak with Princess Adzriel about volunteering to plug the hole in the lake was enough to grant Alec an audience with the royal family. Having only ever met Seregil, and never when the Prince was clothed, Alec felt small and grubby standing before the finely dressed King and his four daughters. He had asked only for Princess Adzriel, having gathered from listening to Seregil that she loved him best out of all his family, and had therefore not been prepared for such an audience. Reminding himself that he was doing this to save his friend, Alec stood straight and spoke with more confidence than he felt.

“I'm here to restore the lake.”

King Korit looked him over with tired, old eyes, then gestured toward the door. “Put him in,” he said, and guards started forward.

“Wait!” The guards paid him no attention, and Alec shouted desperately as they took hold of him. “I have a request!”

It was Adzriel who stayed the guards. She stood and stepped away from her throne, coming forward to speak with Alec on equal footing, affording him that respect as a show of thanks on her brother's behalf.

“What is your request?” she asked him kindly.

“I want....” He licked his lips, nervous and afraid, but committed. “I believe that it might take a long time for the lake to fill up. Sere— Prince Seregil and I are.... We've swum together in the lake. And talked. I'd like for him to stay with me. If I get hungry, or need someone to talk to, then I'd like for him to be there to keep me company.”

Adzriel smiled sadly, having no trouble seeing the love that Alec felt for her brother. She touched his cheek, brushing back a thick lock of his blond hair.

“That is not an unreasonable request.” Looking back over her shoulder, she addressed the King. “Father?”

“So be it.” King Korit seemed to care no more about this than he had when Alec had first volunteered. “Adzriel, have everything arranged.”

9. Love Loves On

Within the hour, Alec had been brought to the hole in the lakebed. There was only a small puddle around it now, the last of the water in the lake. Seregil was borne to his side aboard a small boat. He lay as if dead among cushions beneath a silk awning, but Alec saw with relief that his chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths.

“It's been a while,” Alec said quietly, once the others had left them alone. “You look awful.”

Seregil's eyes fluttered open just long enough to catch a glimpse of him. “They told me someone had volunteered to save my lake.”

“Yes. Everything will be back to normal soon.”

“It's very kind of you,” Seregil murmured.

“I'd have hated to watch you die.”

Seregil said nothing in response, and Alec soon realized that he had fallen asleep. There was nothing else for it but to go ahead and get it all over with.

The hole in the lake was a small, triangular opening. It took Alec a few minutes to work out that the only way to cover it completely was to sit down with his legs through the opening, then lean forward to cover the rest with his hands. It was an uncomfortable position, and the sun beat down mercilessly upon him. With Seregil asleep and nothing much else he could do, he sang quietly, beginning with the first hymn Seregil had ever heard from him.

Presently, a small wave flowed over the stone, lapping against Alec's knees. Encouraged, he continued singing, praying that the water would rise quickly before his fear could undo his resolve. Perhaps an hour passed before he heard Seregil stir, and his heart lifted. Craning his neck to peer into the boat, he thought he could see a bit more color in his friend's cheeks. He sang one more song, but his throat was growing painfully dry, and a numbing cold was creeping up his limbs, leeching away his strength. He fell silent when the hymn came to an end, and did not begin another.

“Keep singing, if you would,” Seregil murmured. “It's so very boring just lying here.”

“My throat is too dry. Give me a sip of water.”

Seregil sat up, his movements sluggish and hesitant. “They left me with chilled wine, rather than water,” he said.

“Some of that, then. Please.”

Looking as if he would rather have lain back down, Seregil shrugged and poured some wine into a goblet. He offered it over the side to Alec.

“You'll have to hold the goblet.” He nodded toward the muddy pool around them. “I can't move my hands.”

“Oh.” Seregil stretched forward, carefully tipping the goblet to allow Alec to drink. A few sips were all he could manage.

As Seregil sat back, Alec fancied that there was a hint of concern in his expression. He comforted himself with the thought that his friend's heart wasn't entirely closed to him, despite the curse, and settled into the silence that wrapped around them. Alec was no stranger to silence, and often welcomed it. He held his peace as Seregil dozed. An hour passed. Two, then three. It was only when he realized that he was in danger of nodding off that Alec thought to call out. Even as he spoke Seregil's name, however, his friend was coming awake, sitting up to look over the side of his small boat.

“I'm afloat!” the Prince cried.

Sure enough, the water had risen high enough to lift the small boat out of the muck. Beaming, Seregil looked up to meet Alec's eyes.

“Look, Alec! Soon we'll be able to go swimming together again! You must fall in with me just as soon as the water is deep enough.”

Alec managed a smile for him, although he was beginning to feel quite lightheaded. The water had risen over his stomach.

“I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else to fall in with.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I'd forgotten.”

Seregil stared at the water once more, but the joy was gone from his expression, leaving only a small, troubled frown behind. He met Alec's eyes again quickly.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Just a bit.”

Although he wasn't actually hungry, he was feeling faint. It wouldn't do to pass out before he had completed his task. Seregil pulled a honeyed oatcake from the basket packed in beside him. He broke off bits and fed them slowly to Alec.

“Your lips are chapped.” He drew a thumb across Alec's lower lip, then pulled his hand away. A moment later, and he was offering a goblet of wine. As before, a few sips were all Alec could manage before he turned his head away.

“Talk to me,” Alec said.

“What would you have me talk about?”

“Anything. Just make sure I stay awake.”

“All right, then.”

Seregil settled back amongst the pillows, but he made sure this time to prop himself up so that he could see Alec. He talked haltingly at first, flitting from subject to subject, but soon was sounding more like his old self. Alec listened as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the water rose and the numbness turned to a painfully icy chill that crept in toward his heart. He didn't notice at first when Seregil stopped talking, and jumped as fingers brushed his cheek.

“You don't look very well at all,” Seregil said. His gray eyes were inches away from Alec's own.

“You didn't look so well either, this morning.”

“Alec...are you sure you don't mind this?” The warmth of his palm and the tenderness in his voice were Alec's undoing.

“I don't mind except for one thing. I'd hate to die without....” He was sure he must be blushing, although he could barely feel it. “Seregil, will you kiss me?”

“Certainly.”

He leaned just a bit further over the side of the boat, setting it rocking upon the water that had risen up to Alec's neck. His lips were soft and warm. Alec's eyes had slid shut reflexively, and he hesitated to open them after Seregil pulled away.

“Thank you.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He tried to blink them away, and looked around at the surface of the rising lake, silvered by the low-hanging moon. It truly was a beautiful place. He was glad to think that Seregil would be happy in it once again, even if Alec wouldn't be around to enjoy it with him.

Seregil offered him more of the oatcakes, but Alec couldn't stand the thought of food. He could barely manage the smallest sip of wine. The lake rose to his chin, but Seregil, instead of regaining his old levity, seemed only to become more agitated.

“Alec, surely there's someone else who could do this.”

“No one else volunteered, and it was made clear that no one could be forced.”

“But...I want to fall in with you again.”

“Someone else—”

“I don't want to fall in with someone else!”

Words were becoming a struggle. Alec smiled, and reached for what little strength he had left.

“You'll be all right. Your lake—”

“Yes, but...!”

“It's okay, Seregil.” I love you, so it's okay.

Neither spoke for some time. Alec let his eyes fall shut. It was only Seregil who watched the water as it rose to wet his bottom lip, as wavelets splashed at the seam of his mouth, as Alec tilted his head back, breathing raggedly, shallowly through his nose. Seregil's heart was racing in his chest as he watched Alec die by inches. The lake was his life, his love, the only place he was whole. He watched as it rose high enough to close over Alec's face. Bubbles drifted to the surface: his friend's last breath. They dispersed and popped and were gone, and something in Seregil broke. With a shout, he leapt over the side of the boat into the water.

Frantically, he tugged at Alec's legs where they were wedged into the hole. Although he had gained back some of his strength as the lake slowly filled, he was still weak. His breath ran out before he succeeded in pulling Alec free, and he surfaced, gasping for breath and wild with panic for his friend. He dove again, yanking and pulling, until at last one of Alec's legs came free, and then the other. Seregil heaved him out of the water and into the small boat and crawled in after him. He set off rowing toward the shore, hauling on the oars and hollering for help.

A crowd was waiting for him on the dock, helping hands reaching to to lift him from the boat and pull up Alec's limp form after him.

“A doctor! Get him a doctor!” Seregil shouted.

“But Your Highness! What about the lake?”

“Go drown yourself in it!” Seregil snapped, and it was good for the speaker that Seregil hadn't identified him in the crowd, for he certainly would have punched the man.

Adzriel stepped to the fore and swiftly imposed order. Alec and Seregil both were brought up to the Prince's room where Alec was laid out on the bed. Mydri took charge of him, and Seregil collapsed by the bedside with one of Alec's hands held tight in his. The Princess worked through the night to pump the water from Alec's lungs and draw the chill of death from his body. She feared that it would be too late after all, but just as she was preparing to give up, the sun crested the horizon, and Alec sucked in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Still kneeling next to him, Seregil grabbed Alec's face, kissed him roughly, then burst into tears.

10. A Fine And Proper Happy Ending

Seregil wept for hours, loosing all the pent up tears of his life in one torrential flood. He refused to be separated from Alec, and climbed into bed to sit against the bolster and hold him close as he cried. For his part, having died for his love and been returned to life, Alec wasn't interested in being parted from Seregil, either. Shivering beneath the blanket Adzriel had wrapped around their shoulders, he stroked Seregil's hair and helped him drink the water Mydri ordered for him to replace that of the tears he was shedding.

Outside, an unseasonably heavy rain was falling, restoring the dried up rivers and streams, refilling the lake, and even flooding the underground cavern. The rain kept up long after Seregil's tears had finally dried, and the sound of it outside was as comforting as the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the overjoyed smiles of his sisters and the warmth of Alec held snugly in his arms.

“I feel so heavy,” Seregil marveled.

“You've got your gravity back,” Adzriel said, blinking back tears of joy. She had needed to help Seregil stand up and climb into bed, for he hadn't been able to manage it by himself, not having ever had weight before. A thought occurred to her and she laughed. “You'll have to learn to walk all over again!”

“Alec can teach me,” Seregil declared. He kissed the top of Alec's hair, and chuckled to see him blush. “I promise to learn quickly. The sooner I come to terms with this gravity I've been missing, the sooner we can be married.”

Alec gaped at him, and Seregil lost himself for a moment in his eyes. He wondered how he could ever have compared their blue to that of the lake and found Alec wanting.

“You mean it?” Alec asked.

Seregil watched the shock on his face change to delight, and found that he couldn't resist the urge to kiss him once more. New sensations flooded him head to toe as he melted into the kiss. Oh, yes. He had a great deal to learn, all of it with Alec at his side. Joy too pure for laughter swelled within his heart as fresh tears welled in his eyes. Wondering if Alec felt the same, he broke the kiss to meet his eyes and saw love shining there, clear for all the world to see. For the first time in his life, Seregil felt that he was truly happy.

#fanfiction #nightrunner nonsense