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iamcinema · 4 years

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IAC Reviews #010: Blood Lake (1987) [Retrospective #2]

"...I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him...“

Over the years, I’ve been scowering the Internet trying to find the worst of the worst when it comes to horror movies. I guess you can call me a glutton for punishment in that regard since some movies need to be seen to be believed, rather than looked into as an example of what bad filmmaking looks like. Whether it’s a problem with the acting, the writing, the technical specs, or all of the above, you know you’re in for a good [or horrible] time if it checks one or more of those boxes. When it comes to bad horror movie lists, not just shot on video ones, one film in particular seems to rule them all as it’s hailed as one of the worst movies of all time, if not the worst horror film ever made. This time around, I’m making an ill-fated return to the Oklahoma to talk about Tim Boggs’ lone directorial credit, Blood Lake.

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Blood Lake tells the story about a group of friends who are being stalked by a mad man while on a weekend getaway trip at the lake. It’s not the most original concept out there, but hey, what else is new? It’s interesting that this is Boggs’ only attempt at being a filmmaker and the rest of his credits are attributed to being part of the sound department for notable films and shows like Lost Highway, Tales From the Crypt, Xena: Warrior Princess, The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, and Legion. That’s a hell of a resume, but that’s not what we’re here to really discuss.

I heard about the notority of this for years, and I decided to take the plunge with it nearly five years ago where I live reviewed it for Under the Morgue. Needless to say, I didn’t have fun with it and I don’t think I ever ripped into a film that hard up until that point. With the anniversary date of that review coming up, I thought it would be fair to do a retrospect on this to see if it really lives up to how genuinely atrocious I thought it was all those years ago.

Blood Lake in One Gif:

I think I need to lay down for this one. Do you know that feeling of nostalgia you get when you see, hear, or smell something that really takes you back to a better time? Well, whatever the antithisis to that is would describe the seething rage and horror I felt re-watching this.

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While it’s true that some movies need to be witnessed to truly understand how bad they are, it’s also fair to say that some things shouldn’t be known by mere mortals - and this absolutely applies to films like Ax’Em and Blood Lake. They’re as cut-and-dry and boring as they are in premise, and a train wreck of a travesty in execution at that.

The quality from a technical standpoint is pretty damn atrocious, particularly during some of the nighttime shots since it can be hard to tell what’s going on and it feels like you’re squinting the whole time trying to tell what you’re looking at. The sound is just as bad, though sometimes it fairs better than the visuals, even if a good chunk of the time you can’t tell what the hell anyone is saying because they’re either too far from the mic to be picked up or it’s a dialogue problem with everyone mumbling, talking over each other, or fumbling over their lines. IMDB says the sound was shot with a single shotgun microphone, and yeah...it kind of shows.

C’mon. Look at this and tell me you can figure out what the fuck all is going on.

The writing feels almost non-existent as Boggs encouraged the actors to paraphrase the dialogue in their own words to I guess make it feel more natural. However, with how clumsy things are, it’s hard to really tell how much was ad-libbed or done by the actors themselves. The total direction and set-up with the pacing is absolute garbage and some of the worst I’ve ever seen, as it’s padded out with gratuitously long shots of them doing things like “extreme” sports on the water or a scene of them drinking at a table that goes on for close to ten minutes. It feels like the director left the camera on a tripod and accidentally filmed their lunch break. People have said this feels like a glorified home movie, and I get why. I’ve ripped on Las Vegas Bloodbath for how bad the filler was during its third act; as well as the opening dance sequences and the yo mama jokes in the opening of Ax’Em for needlessly dragging things out, or even the flashback sequences in Nick Millard’s films - even if they don’t exist within the canon of the story. Hell, Sledgehammer does this too by slowing down scenes in order to pad it out to a 60 minute runtime after being told it was too short.

When it comes to the characters, they aren’t anything special and are mostly forgettable. With this camp, I designated them to one of two sides of the field; boring and awful. All of them I’ve mostly shoved over on the boring side, as they never really do anything noteworthy or special, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you their names off the top of my head for the most part. However, some of the guys do teeter on being awful and annoying as hell, but one character in particular stayed on the shit teir side of the spectrum from start to finish - which would be Tony.

Oh, god. Tony....

This guy right here. This motherfucker made watching this the first time around feel like a total chore. But the second time around, and willingly so, it was like pulling teeth to get me to finish.

I don’t mind weird, perverted, sleazy dickheads who show up now and again, but Tony is a special case because his entire shtick is being a weird creep to the point of giving off rapey vibes with the other guys over how his goal at the end of the weekend is to conquer some girl he goes to school with. Bro, you’re like twelve, shut the fuck up. It’s beyond cringe. It’s insufferable, and prior to this, I said over on Under the Morgue that Alan from Return to Sleepaway Camp was the most unsympathetic “protagonist” I had ever seen. But now, compared to him and the majority of the characters from Await Further Instructions, I don’t know who is the most grating to sit through - and I spent most of my time on that review talking about how the zero level of characterization makes it so hard to watch. In that review, I said I can appreciate a scummy character if they have any sort of secondary personality trait that makes you love to hate them, or at least makes them tolerable. With Tony, he’s just an annoying, pervy brat who I guess is about as comedic and charming as a trench foot infection.

It’s pretty damn rare that I see a movie where I root for the villain(s) from start to finish because I can’t stand the majority, if not all of the characters. So, having to recall how many times I wished Tony would have drowned within the first fifteen minutes or had a joint stubbed out in his damn eye has proved to be more enjoyable than the entirety of this shit show, since the only tail he should have been chasing was the tailpipe of the damn car he arrived in. I was honestly surprised we didn’t get any Summer Camp Nightmare moments given how much of a creep the twerp is, and I still am now.

The fact that this is called a slasher film feels like a cruel joke, since after the opening kill, the next murder doesn’t happen until close to the fifty minute mark in an 82 minute movie (78 minutes if you get rid of the credits). Plus, because of the abysmal quality, you can’t even see them clear enough to tell what’s happening. It’s so frustrating to feel like you’d get more out of the death scenes by closing your eyes the whole time. It’s up there with Ax’Em in terms of quality and how much it feels like they cheat you, which makes me wonder why bother at all if it’s possible you can’t even see what’s going on when you were editing the damn thing?

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So, here we are at the dreaded moment where I close this off with how I’d rate this. Is it as bad as I remember it being? Yes, if not more so. I had to pause and walk away from it for a bit to cool off and do something else because it was so tedious sit through.

It just goes on, and on, and on, which was only made worse by obnoxious characters that were a total hassle to put up with who could have been reduced to Douchebag #1, Generic Girl #2, and Rattail Motherfucker #1 based on how little they actually did to make me want to remember their names - and the ones who did were the most insufferable of the lot that I couldn’t forget them even if I wanted to. There’s little to no actual blood and gore, and with the very little there was, it was completely wasted in scenes that you can’t see clearly which is a damn shame because one of the kills could have had a decent reveal if it was shot better.

If I had to say just one good thing about the film to be generous, not counting that it had some kind of a reachable end, it was the mediocre soundtrack supplied by the band Voyager. It’s not good at all, but hey, if you like cheesy 80s horror soundtracks, there’s that going for it...I guess. With all that being said, I never want to see this disaster ever again. I’m trying to wrap my head around how people genuinely like this, even in a so bad it’s good type of way, and I just don’t get it. This, for me, is arguably one of the worst horror movies I’ve ever seen, and probably ever will.

RATING: 0.5/10

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#blood lake #sov #sov horror #shot on video #shot on video horror #80's horror #80s horror #horror movie #horror movies #horror film #slasher #film #horror #movie review #film review #iac reviews

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antheiin · 5 years

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Revered - Supergiant Challenge

Part 3 - 3,411 Words

Part 1 | Part 2

The garden is an interim, an in-between time that acts much like purgatory. In it, Miriam has time to her own head, enough to think about just what this entire thing means. Maybe, she’s floating about in a dream, in which there has been an entire city built out of pieces she hasn’t even experienced, full of people she can hardly picture coming up with. That’s the part that makes it hard to completely buy in to, the fact that she can’t reasonably make it all true.

Though, the impossible had been proved to her a few times before. Namely, her ascension, which had been put away as an impossibility when Miriam was younger. So, at this point, it could go so far either way that she hates to make any conclusions.

Fedir and her had talked for a time, under their breaths and slowly traversing the overgrown areas. He had told her more when pressured, spurred on by Miriam’s insistence and furrowed brow, the edge of concern in her voice that didn’t reach a whine, but still expressed her distress. They had gone over the impact on her in their initial attempts to remove Miriam from the location, her panic rushing her out the door before she could be truly impacted by it.

Bleeding a god from their mortal form was a phrase that made Miriam just a tad bit nauseous to think about. The implications of anything of that nature happening to her person was worth the upset. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t watch in a horror movie, but when the process was placed further into reality, she found it repugnant at best. That was all she needed at that moment, but leaving sight of the house behind meant lowering her anxiety at least a little bit, forcing Miriam to think.

What else would happen? What else could happen, even?

Fedir had answered her with that prodding, and she’d known the moment his voice lowered even more in preparation had let a rock of dread settle into her abdomen. Despite her own abilities not requiring the first law of physics or thermodynamics, this apparently does. The extent of the power requires input of its own, something not found on any measurable scale.

Hundreds of thousands of people, he had said, people who would be going about their days before suddenly seizing and being taken by the actions of people miles and miles away. People they had never met, doing this for a god that they had not met, and likely would never meet in the end. That fact scared her, and badly, so running away from the source of it seemed like the best possible option to undertake.

Miriam had run and run and run, not looking back to the house until she snagged herself on a crawling root, falling down with a muffled thump that turned into a semi-uncontrolled somersault. Fedir’s footsteps behind her skidded on the stones lining the path, both of their breaths caught up in a shallow wheeze.

“Hey, hey, you can’t run away like that.” Fedir is hissing his words, crouching down to help Miriam get to her feet. She does so, stumbling and clutching at her chest as she tries to stomp her panic down. “It makes a lot of noise. I don’t want us to be heard. There’s not a lot of places to hide here.”

“Can’t we go any faster, then?!” Miriam’s voice, while hushed, strains and even cracks at one point, her fingers digging into Fedir’s sleeve. “Things were already pretty bad, but that extra information just makes it so much worse.” It could be comedic, were the situation not so dire.

“...Fine.” Fedir stands, pulling Miriam up with him, and linking their arms together. Somewhat comforted, she squeezes her son’s arm, and tugs them onward, content to take the lead this time. “Just, keep your ears open.”

Any strange sounds, any oddities, and she was about as likely to hurt someone as she was to flee.

“I can’t, I can’t wrap my head around why they would do this.” Miriam speaks softly after the next few minutes of walking don’t alert to anyone following them. “If that many people are going to die, how do they know that they all won’t just be wiped out?” It’s a reasonable question, in her mind, but Fedir doesn’t seem to know anything on it, and shrugs his reply.

Perhaps the philosophies of Katherine Piwowarski had held on for the time she’d skipped through. After all, in Poland, there had been twelve-hundred present, scattered about and ranging from warrior sorts to children. It was a compound, practically disguised as a rustic little town. That was enough people to pass a story on to colleagues and children, for however long. It wasn’t as if she was taking in the world after the sun had gone out, or something similarly catastrophic. Those philosophies of Katherine’s were timeless, to a degree, and her gospels claimed to be by Miriam’s own tongue, a wondrous collection of obsession and a belief so strong it had manifested itself into a global threat.

The entirety of it wasn’t something Miriam knew. But, in her times bound to the center house in the first foggy town, Katherine had ranted and cooed as she sprawled herself across Miriam, the oxygen tank hissing with the effort of her preaching. At times, when her mind didn’t scream with danger alarms, it was almost serene. A different sort of her could have been loved by a woman invested more in her power than her person. At least she was beautiful, at least she was hard pressed to pull her attention away from Miriam for any length of time.

For the Miriam who was desperate and lonely and unsure about what had happened to her, this was set up as a story reaching it’s romantic conclusion. She had liked Katherine for a good long time, when she seemed like a dream come true. Really, if she had not become what she was, she could have loved Katherine dearly. Could have taken Bruno and Tabi along as well. At one point, there was a Miriam so intuned with the world around her, who would be happy to tie herself to a group of similarly odd sorts. They could have been friends, really.

Miriam could have married a woman like Katherine Piwowarski had she not been what she was when they met. There have been fragments of a reality like that that she’s been gifted, where the idea was more prominent. Katherine could have been something wonderful in her own troubled existence.

Besides the gift of blood in the dirt and stone, the interim garden is left with little else to present. Miriam does pluck a flower, a dappled lily that she cups in her hands, unsure of what to do with it. She needs to chase away this face before the people around can get attuned to it. “I’m switching up again.” Miriam speaks lowly to her brother, and tugs the cloak further around herself, as if hiding the transformation in her cloak. This form is a bit more slight, and the notches in her borrowed hands and the blonde hair at a weird length makes her think that she’s landed comfortably as Cole. He wouldn’t mind, she doesn’t think. It’s for the good and safety of her and someone she cares about very much. The pilfered lily is slipped behind an ear, shaded by the heavy weave of her stolen cloak.

“Thank you hon,” she mumbles that bit under her breath as the pair leave the garden, diverting from the path to clumsily scale an adjacent stone wall. “I’ll take good care while I borrow this for awhile.” Really, Miriam assumes that she can hold this form while Cole is Cole. No issues with one physical form, and multiple vessels jockeying for it.

On the other side of the wall, the world drops into brambles and oddities that she only sort of recognizes. Miriam had gotten better with botany as time had gone on, but she still is lost when her feet hit the ground. The snarls at her ankles prompt a grumble, and Miriam has to pull herself free, before bending to unsnare some of Fedir’s coat from tangle of thorns.

“What’s through here?”

“This is where it starts getting bad. Someone’s going to alert that you’re gone like, any minute. People use the path through the wooded area like a main highway. So we’re going off the grid for a bit.” Miriam nods, thinking of leave no trace mentalities that had been imbued on her during some camping expeditions. She can do off the grid, she can disappear.

“Then let’s, get a bit off trail, I want to repack our bags. Quiet as possible is the plan, yeah?” She’s picking her way down carefully, cutting north-west to get away from the garden. The noise of bugs drops off, and for a moment, they’re cast in silence that’s just relaxed enough to not be a problem. Once they’ve left that silence space, and have gone back into the faint murmur of the woodland, does Miriam take her bag off, and gesture for Fedir’s.

“This shouldn’t take long.” The bags are near empty, but hardly neat. Miriam moves lightening fast, pulling things out and tucking them away. The spotted extra boots are given a stern look. “I hope you ordered on the larger size, I guess I can stuff these with socks if I need to.”

“I don’t know women’s sizes, so I just got what looked close. So uh, it’s probably not the best.” Honesty, that’s something to appreciate. Rearranging Fedir’s bag as well, she finds a few more things. A locket (tarnished), a few pill bottles, and an obscene number or bandanas (colored obnoxiously). It’s worth little more than a chuckle, before they’re both heading out down the hill and through this woodland.

The woods surrounding the gardens and the hidden town had grown exponentially since the people had come. Well, the fog had rolled in first, blanketing it from imaging, and swallowed up in the same way the fog swallowed up the sound. Between the foreboding evergreens, to the ferns so broad that they could pass for an eccentric skirt. Those sensitive to the subtle changes of the world- the deities and Conduits she once knew- could tell that there was energy bubbling over this chosen land.

It’s kind to them, though. The woods is quiet and mossy, and allows for slips and falls and blunders with great forgiveness. Nevertheless, the serenity only lasts for forty-five minutes, as most things do. The silence was broken apart by voices coming closer, urgent feet crunching through the rock. Clutching Fedir’s arm, Miriam pulls them into the brush, fingers digging in and her other hand clasped over her mouth to prevent the whimper in her throat from working out.

“The Sergeant ordered anyone…” The first voice is muffled, but Miriam feels cold at this point, and by the way Fedir stiffens, he’s unhappy too. Determined to get a better sense of what’s being said, she worms forward, still hidden in the brush, but just a little bit closer to the source. “The Sergeant ordered anyone who isn’t in a vital post to comb the gardens and down into the Walkways. Said that there’s been a breach.”

“Oh, oh my.” The next voice is thin and reedy, really, Miriam could call it reedy without being wrong. “And I had heard that the High Priestess retreated at the news, both her and the Maw. Is the Sergeant still running the front lines like he does?”

“If he didn’t, I’d be surprised.” She can catch a glimpse now of a tall, broad man, built like a lumberjack .That’s the muffled voice. A few feet to his side is a girl no more than five feet tall, practically a fairy, considering how delicate she looked next to him. Miriam sits on her conscience, and wonders about the benefits of simply eliminating these two, to make them a problem no longer and never again.

But, she just can’t make herself, and instead, focuses on their words for something useful.

“The breach,” the woman starts, her fairy voice twisting itself into a sigh. “She got out of the house the High Priestess was holding her in, didn’t she?” It’s snide now, grating on itself and making Miriam shiver. “Now we’re all putting up with extra for the sacred cause because someone couldn’t get the whole thing right in the first place.” Kind of an interesting way to consider things as a cult member, but Miriam figures she wouldn’t know unless she was one person. Just best not to judge it.

“Seems so, but keep your voice down.” The woman is admonished near immediately, and Fedir fidgets when the sound can be hidden by speaking. “You don’t know who’s coming. We should hurry anyways, before we’re late.”

And with that, the footsteps and voices faded as the pair went further down the tree lined path, leaving Fedir and Miriam behind. She’s shaking without realizing it, and has to grab at a tree limb to keep herself steady as she gets out of her stiff legged crouch.

“That can’t be the last of it,” Miriam mutters, casting a glance to Fedir, before helping to pull the boy to his feet. “It was twelve-hundred here the last time I remember. How many are there now?”

“Uh, let me think.” Fedir chews on his lip, back to leading the way as he takes both himself and Miriam through the least dense parts of the woods, still remaining off the path. Eventually, he seems to give up, and shrugs to Miriam with an apologetic sort of look. “I think over four thousand, now? I dunno, I tried to do some research, but it’s all cloudy, and I think they’re all over the place. How come you don’t remember any of this?”

Miriam, unsure and unwilling, shrugs right back and stares at her feet for awhile. “I just don’t. There’s, there’s this whole section missing.” Waving a hand, her brow furrows, expression desperate for understanding. “Like waking up from a dream to, this. Nightmare, something.” His mouth stands agape, unsure and unsteady as they keep hiking just off the edge of the path. The fact that he squeezes her hand, and says no more, makes her a bit anxious.

It’s miserable walking and snagging on every other briar in the woods. However, it’s safest, by all arguments, and while they can’t talk much, it’s easy enough to pretend to be a woodland creature, venturing just out of sight. Miriam, in the meantime, tries not to manipulate anything, tries not to flex any of what she is. The plants feel heavy, as if weighted down by the atmosphere of this place. Worth watching, but touching is far too dangerous. It’s distracting, even, the way these things exist.

Too distracting, she finds out soon.

They’re about ninety percent of the way there, Fedir says. It’s an estimate at best, given how things feel so much different when you’re looking at them theoretically. Still quiet, walking one foot in front of the other, with an ear out for danger. So, it comes as a shock to hear someone else again, a shrill sound that sounds a bit too surprised to have been following for long.

“Oh, that face of your’s, I don’t recognize it. And I know everyone. So, It, it has to be you! They said that you were hiding in someone else’s skin.” It’s no voice she’s known before, cracking up an octave and stammering on itself. Whipping her head around, Miriam finds herself about six feet away from a young woman in a hooded cloak, her round glasses eschew on her nose. “You’ve been right here the whole time! What luck-”

Deciding that she doesn’t like that tone at all, Miriam grabs Fedir’s wrist, shoving the boy back and behind her with the nudge of her hip. “Stay behind me, run if you need to.” The words are muttered, strangled out, really. Fedir looks cross, but nods his agreement to the frantic, nervous plan.

“She told us you couldn’t just leave us.” The strange cultist is stock still, too still, her smile stretched across her face. “Turn face from those who would deny your faith. Keep your goddess close and reap her bounty.” It sounds like verse, and Miriam hates this entire thing more and more each moment, limbs stiff and frozen in place. “Reap the fruits of your labors.”

“Stop.” She warns, fingers digging into Fedir’s wrist. “Just, I, please stop. We don’t have to do this. We just want to go home.” It’s begging, really, her attempts to get the woman to allow them to pass. In response, her head tilts, and she gives Miriam a quizzical look. That isn’t comforting, not at all.

“But goddess,” the whine makes Miriam drop her disguise in a fit of fear, suddenly much smaller and damn near cowering. The stranger’s smile splits her face open, and she takes another step forward. “Your home is here, don’t you know? Nothing else.” Another step, another little skip that sends her off the path and into the woods, ankle deep in the undergrowth. “There’s no leaving us now. It wouldn’t be fair, after all this time the priestess has worked to bring you here with us, to grant you your power.”

That paralyzing dread stays, and Miriam can hear Fedir step back behind her, wrist still stuck in her grasp. Still smiling, the stranger slides forward again, the hem of her pants snagging on a thorn or two. She moves so slowly, that it’s hard to process, so hard that Miriam suddenly processes just how close she’s gotten to them both, how her smile has widened more and more, how open her eyes are. It’s like watching a haunting in progress, specters clambering over a living body. A moment later, the stranger is close enough to hear her breathing.

“Let me take you home.” She lunges, snapping a hand around Miriam’s free wrist. Throat stuck, all she herself can do is stand stock still, gaping at the scene. But then, Fedir finds himself faster, and pulls his mother, trying to tear her from the strange woman’s grasp.

“Let go of her-!” His cry jumps Miriam forward, and she struggles too, trying to twist herself loose as the woman snaps her other hand onto Miriam’s forearm, fingers like a vice. It feels like she’s going to die, like this stranger is going to snap her up and bring her back to be pulled apart at the seams, for people to die. This feels like the end of the world.

With nothing else on her mind, Miriam releases Fedir and snaps forward like a let go spring. The fact that she’s breaking someone’s nose is a little surreal. Despite the power, violence makes her nervous, and the memories of her own crimes is painful. Desperation does terribly funny things, though.

Faced with a great deal of pain, the stranger recoils, releasing with one hand, and then another, reaching to clutch at her face as she bleeds. Miriam’s own arm is clawed up where nails have tried to break her skin, the marks sure to bruise. In reply, the strange woman lashes out, and briefly, Miriam sees a sea of stars.

It’s difficult to process, immediately after being hit in the face. This is somewhere between a slap and a punch, her hand curled and nails striking Miriam’s cheek. Pain blooms soon enough, and Miriam just wobbles in place while the both of them try to process what’s just happened to them. Fedir, with more sense in that moment, grabs Miriam’s arm and yanks.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go! Now! Go!” She stumbles at the first tug, dancing over her feet and trying her best to not fall. It works, thankfully, and Miriam manages to break into a run.

The edge of this woods isn’t far now, and comes closer and closer the more they run. For now, the goal is to escape, to hide away from the strange woman until she loses direction of where they are. She’s too perceptive, too interested, and too touchy. Best to just keep trying to taste freedom from this nightmare.

After all, there’s just a bit longer to go.

#ic #isola drabble #isola supergiant challenge #cults tw #blood tw #bold for miri #bold n italics for fedir #italics for other

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pyropsychiccollector · 5 years

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Invel sighed exasperatedly as he trudged through the city of Hargeon, subzero winds and temperatures trailing in his wake. A flurry of snow and ice coated the people and buildings, practically turning them into ice sculptures. He had not expected to reach his destination so soon, but apparently Irene had disregarded His Majesty’s orders and employed her experimental Magic to tip the scales in their favor… Not that it mattered to her, since she had to have realized by now Emperor Spriggan had perished.

“I-Invel…?”

The ice mage raised an eyebrow as he halted and stared at the once proud Spriggan Shield crawling on the ground, arms still tied behind her back and cuffed with Anti-Magic restraints.

“Dimaria. Seems this operation was too much for you to handle.” Hands clasped behind his back, and looking every bit like a teacher scolding a student, Invel shook his head in disappointment. Dimaria hissed furiously at him.

“Don’t look down your nose at me, bastard…! What have you contributed?!”

Invel sighed theatrically.

“More than you. I’ve immobilized the enemy forces that have shuffled here as a result of Irene’s mischief.” He cut the ropes that bound Dimaria’s arms. The blonde looked up at him with an awed expression, not moving from her spot.

“Universe One…? Lady Irene really used it?!”

Invel’s gaze turned skyward.

“Indeed. You should have realized it yourself, after the intense Magic built up in the atmosphere. It was most certainly Irene’s Magic…”

Dimaria winced as she rose to her feet, glaring at Invel half-heartedly as she did so.

“You’re not going to get into a big shpeal about how she went out of line…?”

The ice mage scoffed at the notion.

“Drastic times call for drastic measures. Though our victory is a foregone conclusion, we have suffered… setbacks.” He muttered distastefully, turning to the side, away from Dimaria.

“You don’t say…” Dimaria rolled her eyes.

“Four Spriggan Shields have perished. Four.” Invel waspishly shot back, surprising Dimaria. “What’s more, we have lost our Emperor to this scum. We have no other recourse but to reunite the twelve and capture Fairy Heart. After that, we’ll exterminate Ishgar and Acnologia together, just as His Majesty commanded us to do.”

Dimaria went rigid as Invel revealed the worst news. It just wasn’t possible.

“The Emperor died?! Don’t fuck with me…! He’s immortal…!”

Invel coldly glared back at her.

“You can reject reality like an obnoxious child if that’s what you’d prefer, but the rest of us will be living in the real world. I saw it myself. His Majesty’s most vile creation came to end his life – wiped out nearly 100,000 of the men in the Western flank – and mortally wounded the Emperor with a Hellfire that I have never seen before. It was the most shameful sin of my life to follow His Majesty’s will and allow END to endanger him. But I will carry the burden of that blight on my soul… so long as I am able to fulfill His Majesty’s will for this wretched world. Ishgar and Acnologia will fall, that I have promised.”

Dimaria’s body trembled as her hands curled into fists. So the Emperor was truly dead… It would feel amazing to slaughter these Ishgar mages for that insult alone… But it did trouble her that Acnologia was still, in fact, a threat. Who was supposed to wield the Fairy Heart, now that His Majesty was no longer an option?

“Seems like events have been unfolding into a most fascinating tale…” A figure dropped down in a crouch from a nearby roof, but neither Dimaria nor Invel tensed at feeling his familiar presence.

“Neinhart.” Invel tersely acknowledged the man. “You look in better shape than Dimaria.”

Dimaria’s hackles rose at the insult to her honor, but she stayed her tongue. The fact it was a teenage girl that put her in such an embarrassing state was humiliating enough.

“Oh, the bastard landed a solid hit on me, I’ll give him that…” Neinhart bitterly admitted. “Still, they should have killed me when they had the chance, rather than show mercy… A coward’s attempt at ‘honor in combat.’”

“The Emperor did suggest this was a weakness of theirs… We will have to educate them just how fatal their naiveté is. Neinhart, when we reach Magnolia, you will summon the deceased Spriggan members. The full might of the Spriggan 12 will be put on full display!”

With this declaration, the three of them began their trek, which would most assuredly be short, given Irene’s meddling with the geography.

“You think she will have arranged the troops for us?” Dimaria questioned. Invel nodded sternly.

“Irene is a shrewd tactician. The best strategy for us would be to arrange all of our forces throughout and around Magnolia, while we harvest the Fairy Heart.”

“Thousands upon thousands of soldiers… All gathered in one place.” Neinhart grinned. “They were having a tough time as it was holding us back. No way they’ll be able to break through to save their precious weapon!”

Invel pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“This will be the final decisive battle… After we’re done with Ishgar, we’ll slay Acnologia, as planned.”

~*~

- Not even an hour ago… -

Cobra sighed with his arms and legs crossed as he sat on top of Happy’s enlarged head. The three of them were flying on this furball to the East to confront the toughest guy in Alvarez, and he had elected to come along because he caught wind of Mest’s less-than-honorable plans. He didn’t like knocking out a member of Fairy Tail, but Mest’s idiocy would’ve resulted in death, for sure… At least, if Brandish’s boasts of August were true.

“Oi, would you stop flippin’ out, blondie? Yeesh. You’re probably the last person I would’ve picked to represent Fairy Tail…” He rolled his eye as the Celestial Wizard squawked at him indignantly.

“STOP READING MY MIND, JERK!”

Brandish lazily eyed Lucy even as she nuzzled contentedly in Happy’s fur.

“He’s got a point. If you act nervous around August, he’s not going to take my request very seriously. And it’s going to be hard enough explaining His Majesty’s demise without your jitters make you seem suspicious…”

Lucy visibly deflated at Brandish’s words of wisdom.

“I know…” She sighed, head hanging low. “I just wish Erza, Gray, or even Mira could have come along instead of me… They’d be totally more level-headed about this, and would definitely know what to say to this guy.”

Brandish squished her cheek against the pleasurably soft fur.

“Just be yourself. Show him respect, but don’t try to sugarcoat it. If we want a chance of convincing him, he needs to get a good read on you as a person. He’s easier to negotiate with compared to Irene, but that doesn’t mean he lacks pride as a warrior for the Alvarez kingdom. Be ready to answer some tough questions.”

Lucy shrank in on herself even more.

“Just great…” She cried exaggeratedly.

Cobra frowned slightly as he eyed the green-haired buxom woman shrewdly. Before he could voice his next questions, however, a giant wave of magical presence overwhelmed their senses, and they knew just what that indicated. Staring down below, they locked eyes with the elder mage, who did not miss a giant flying cat in the sky. Lucy was frozen in absolute terror, unable to speak.

“August, the King of Magic…” Brandish murmured, conveying many emotions while maintaining eye contact with her comrade.

Cobra bit back a small grimace, marginally more composed than Lucy.

‘Definitely bad news… If we can’t make an ally out of this guy, we are screwed.’ The maroon-haired Dragon Slayer thought to himself grimly.

Soon enough, Happy touched down, and Brandish shrank him so they could disembark. The Dragon Slayer and the Celestial Wizard stood to the right and left behind Brandish, respectively. Lucy felt jittery as she poked her fingers together, while Cobra elected to stuff his hands in his pockets. For the Dragon Slayer, they were already in the lion’s den when they sensed this man’s presence; if they were going to die, there was nothing they could do about it.

As for Brandish, she kept a completely neutral expression on her face as she faced her comrade without hesitation.

“What are you playing at, Brandish?” August finally asked, ending the tense silence that pervaded the air.

“I have come to negotiate with you, August.” Brandish answered freely. The elder mage arched an eyebrow at her candor.

“Has Jacob been killed?”

Cobra pondered whether to answer that one, but Brandish cut him off before he could open his mouth.

“He was defeated at the hands of this man here.” She lightly nudged her head back at Cobra. “He isn’t dead, but he’s been taken prisoner. What of God Serena? He should have been with you.”

August clasped a hand over his heart solemnly.

“He’s here with me.” He answered simply. His gaze intensified, making Lucy shiver. Cobra would have joined her, but he was using every ounce of self-control to not let August’s presence overwhelm him. August continued, “Now then, do you mind clarifying what you meant by ‘negotiate’?”

Brandish took a deep breath before getting into the meat of it.

“I would like you to halt your advance.” Brandish made her plea. August, too, breathed heavily through his nose as he tried deciphering Brandish’s motivations.

“From what I can gather, it doesn’t appear you’ve been tortured… Am I to interpret this as betrayal?”

Brandish shook her head solemnly.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. I am and always will be a loyal citizen of Alvarez, through and through. It’s just… I cannot find any meaning in this war.” She voiced her doubts as clearly as possible.

August’s face became grave as he glared at Brandish.

“Those very words are in direct betrayal of His Majesty’s will. Need I remind you we Spriggan 12 have dedicated our minds, bodies, and souls to His Majesty? If, in spite of that, you still cannot comprehend why you must fight for his cause… Then you are nothing more than an enemy who must be eliminated.”

Lucy grew ghastly pale with how oppressive the atmosphere had become. Even Brandish had lost color in her cheeks, but she stood her ground. Cobra clenched a fist in his pocket, gritted his teeth to steel himself, and looked August in the eye.

“… About that.” He breathed steadily to take control of his nerves as all eyes were on him now. “Your ‘Emperor’ was killed not too long ago… Apparently by his brother, a Dragon Slayer in this country by the name of Natsu Dragneel.”

August’s eyes widened at this bit of news. Brandish knew that was quite the feat to accomplish; and she too braced herself for August’s potential rage at this bit of news. She hadn’t known how to approach that topic… and perhaps that was why Cobra had taken one for the team in relaying that information.

“His Majesty… is no more?” August’s voice was eerily quiet, his expression now indecipherable.

“A-Aye…” Happy spoke up for the first time since arriving. “I heard Zeref say that if Natsu killed him, Natsu would die, too… And Natsu definitely died!! I tried to stop him, but Natsu killed Zeref anyway!”

Tears streamed down Happy’s face as he sniffed, looking up at August. It didn’t matter to him if August killed him out of spite… He’d already lost Natsu, and that was painful enough.

August’s face hardened, which was exactly what they had all dreaded.

“If His Majesty has passed on, then there is even less reason to spare these people, Brandish. You know this.”

Finally locating some more resolve within her, Brandish shook her head swiftly as she stared right back at August unflinchingly.

“On the contrary. You know as well as I… that His Majesty had a secret desire kept hidden from most of his subjects… The very reason he went away for all those years was because he was struggling with himself, whether he should live or die!” Her voice was raw with emotion. It was difficult for her, too. Zeref had taken her in and shown her how to use Magic after her mother passed away… But even she could not deny that he harbored a suicidal nature. Because he had been forced to endure centuries of immortality…

“…” August didn’t say a word as Brandish became more sure of herself. Again, it was impossible to see or feel what he might be thinking… Not even Cobra could hear his thoughts.

“Please, August… list to me. What His Majesty attempted to achieve is absolute genocide, and nothing less. The Dragon King Festival… Ragnarok… Call it whatever you like, but in the end, it amounts to nothing but a one-sided massacre! This war is nothing but murder. It’s not a clash of noble ideals between our two countries… Surely you can tell that much?”

August stared down at the ground, deep in rumination. Lucy and Happy looked on hopefully, while Cobra was a little more guarded in his expectations. Brandish pressed on with her pleas.

“I know that among the twelve, none are wiser than you. That is why you must realize at the end of the fight, there will be no future! All that awaits us… is an empty abyss…”

August looked back up at Brandish with another unreadable expression.

“Where we are headed at the conclusion of this battle was to be decided by His Majesty. With him now deceased, it falls to us to finish what he started – whether you like it or not, he decided to…” His mouth became a thin, grim line as Brandish cut him off shrilly.

“Think for yourself!!!”

“M…Maybe you shouldn’t have laid it on so thick… Just a thought…” Lucy winced, hiding behind Brandish. But the Spriggan Shield ignored her.

“That is what I have decided to do…” She turned to the side so there was nothing between Lucy and August as the elder mage stared her down. “I have reached the conclusion that these people are not evil… far from it.”

“Th-Thanks…!” Lucy sweatdropped as she tried not to wilt under August’s intense gaze.

August turned his attention to Cobra first, however.

“You were the one that defeated Jacob… Tell me. Did you take him alive to use as a hostage? Or were you perhaps too weak of heart to end his life?”

Cobra kept his expression firm and made sure to look August directly in the eye. He knew that this was a crucial query.

“Listen, I’m no seraphic saint. Blondie here can tell you that I used to be a scumbag of a criminal… And maybe I still am. Who can honestly say whether I’ve atoned for all the shit I committed as a member of Oracion Seis? I’m the Poison Dragon Slayer, for fuck’s sake. That should tell you how many lives I’ve taken.” He shook his head somewhat exasperatedly as Lucy wordlessly begged him to shut his trap. Even Brandish was looking at him in shock because of his frankness. “But… As for that Jacob guy… Kami knows I didn’t take him down just to hold him over your head. You wanna take him back? I won’t stop you. That said, the rest of those Fairies? They’ll probably try, but only if you aggress them. They could probably understand how you feel about camaraderie – that whole Guild is about friendship, harmony, and all that crap. But it’s because they’re so honorable that they hold that Jacob guy prisoner. ‘Cause he basically held the Guild hostage to get what you guys wanted.”

“…” August fell silent again as he pondered Cobra’s words. Brandish took this opportunity to press her advantage in the negotiations.

“You see? Even a former criminal was able to come this far, thanks to Fairy Tail. If you would just talk with these mages of Ishgar, I am certain you would see they mean us no ill will. They fight because we struck first. They invaded our land because we had their Guildmaster as our effective prisoner. August, I beg you… at least try talking with them.”

August took one final deep breath, once he had mulled over Brandish’s plea for negotiation.

“Well… I suppose… I would sooner listen to what they have to say than make a fool out of you, Brandish.” August nodded his head slowly, stiffly. “As leader of the twelve, it falls to me to decide how we proceed from here.”

Lucy heaved a sigh of relief as Happy cheered, and even Cobra’s mouth twitched up a little the tiniest bit. But even so, from what August could discern from them, it was all genuine; they knew by his reputation that fighting him would be suicide, so he was used to such reactions. It was Brandish’s reaction that perplexed him the most.

“You’re the best, Grandpa~!” Brandish cutely mewled as she looked up at him gleefully. August frowned at the title.

“I have no recollection of you ever being my granddaughter…” He remarked dryly.

“But to me, you’ve always been my Grandpa~!” Brandish chirped adorably. Lucy sweatdropped as she hoped and prayed to all deities out there that Brandish’s eccentricity wouldn’t ruin their chances of negotiation… Cobra just sighed as he raked fingers through his hair.

“As touching as this is… Makarov is gonna want in on these negotiations. Is it acceptable to move this meeting to Fairy Tail…?”

Lucy stared gobsmacked at Cobra speaking for all three of them. But she dared not speak contradictory to him, after he’d made that offer. August raised his eyebrow at the Dragon Slayer.

“You would invite me, even though that was my destination to begin with…?”

Cobra shrugged nonchalantly.

“Call it a token of goodwill and trust. I’m not exactly fit to speak for a Guild I’m not even a part of… And blondie there is just a plain ol’ member, not even S-Class. I don’t think it’s proper for us to make promises that Makarov might decide we aren’t able to keep…”

August nodded indulgently.

“I see your point… Lead the way, then.”

They hadn’t even made it a few feet before something was obviously wrong. Something strange was in the air… Like some Magic was taking hold of all the land in Fiore.

“Wh-What is this…?!” Lucy yelped, looking around in bewilderment.

Brandish and August appeared they were in the know, and it was August who was the most severe…

“Irene, you wouldn’t dare cast that Magic…!”

“Universe One…” Brandish murmured.

Before Cobra could even ask what ‘Universe One’ was, there was a bright light that blinded them and eclipsed everything around them, even the landscape. And then they knew no more…

~*~

- Present –

Laxus massaged his head as he sat up. The last thing he remembered was taking down Wahl, and then he needed to lay down for a while, since he was recently cured of those Barrier Particles in that same battle. Looking around the forest he was suddenly now in, he sighed tiredly and wondered just how the hell he ended up here. He stood up and donned his coat, which wasn’t far out of reach.

“It seems you’ve made a full recovery…”

Laxus craned his head around at the source of the voice. The figure approached casually, and the Dragon Slayer knew there was no need to fight once he registered the hair and face.

“Ahh, Mystogan. Or… Jellal, I suppose I should say. You have any idea what’s going on?”

Jellal shook his head, regrettably.

“I would wager that the enemy somehow changed the landscape to fit their advantage. We aren’t near Hargeon anymore; instead, I believe Magnolia is close at hand.”

Laxus’s mouth gaped slightly.

“Magnolia…? That’s one hell of a Spell for them to just whip out… If they could do that, why not do so in the beginning?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any of the details,” Jellal remarked. “It’s a very new type of Magic, since I had never even heard of something of this scale in legends… But my senses don’t lie. We’ve definitely been moved around, geographically. And I imagine it’s not just us – there’s no point in setting just the two of us back in Magnolia; Alvarez doesn’t want anything from Hargeon, and Kagura and many others are still powerful enough to deal with the threat in Hargeon.”

Laxus crossed his arms patiently.

“You’re right… None of it adds up, unless their purpose was to move their own forces into Magnolia and take our First Master… Or more accurately, the ‘Fairy Heart’, which houses our First Master’s body… it’s got infinite Magical power.”

Jellal’s eyes widened a bit in realization before he inclined his head.

“I see… So that is one of their goals in this war. I had not heard that bit of information yet…”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t going to drag anyone into this struggle in the first place, but it kind of got too big for one little Guild to handle, when Alvarez threw everything our way. In order to survive, getting help from the other Guilds was necessary. Having Crime Sorciere’s power backing us up will also be appreciated.”

“Since Natsu did the difficult part and killed Zeref, the least we can do is help crush Zeref’s forces.” Jellal affirmed. “Meldy and I were helping out in Hargeon, while the former Oracion Seis were headed for the battlefield in the North.”

Laxus grimaced slightly and dipped his head respectfully, shutting his eyes.

“I see, you heard about that Pyro as well…”

“The enemy brought him back to fight Erza,” Jellal revealed, causing Laxus to growl in rage.

“Bastards… Alvarez has a lot to answer for!”

Their discussion was broken up as a few more joined their party.

“Heeey! Laxus!” Wendy called out to her fellow Dragon Slayer as Charle carried Chelia over her shoulder, and Gray, Juvia, and Lyon walked beside them.

“Jellal, too?” Gray mumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You guys know where we are?”

“Close to Magnolia.” Jellal answered. “We’re going to need to head straight there; I have a feeling that Alvarez has rearranged the board in their favor, so now we will have to take back Fairy Tail.”

“You really think Alvarez has that much power to cast such a Spell?” Lyon wondered, skeptically.

“It’d have to be someone from their side…” Charle mused. “No one we know has a kind of Magic that can move us from Hargeon to Magnolia…”

“It must be one of the Spriggan 12.” Juvia stated, frowning.

Lightning crackled around Laxus’s fist as he clenched it at chest level.

“It doesn’t matter what they did… They messed with our friends, our Guilds, so they’re not gonna get any mercy from me. Let’s head home… to Fairy Tail.”

~*~

“Wh…What is this…?! Everyone’s gone again?!” Mavis asked in horror as she once again stood in a Guildhall bereft of anyone. She could feel some bizarre Spell had been cast… But it was on such a wide scale that Mavis couldn’t believe such a Spell existed.

And she’d been so happy when Cana had managed to free her body from that crystal, too… But now, she was alone again…

“My, my… That’s very rude. I’m here, you know.”

Mavis gasped as a scarlet-haired woman, dressed like a witch, casually strode into the Guildhall. The strange woman’s Magic power was incredible… obscene… It was on an entirely different scale from that assassin’s strength, and he’d been more powerful than Makarov!

“Y-You…!” Mavis choked out, but the redhead wagged her finger.

“I wouldn’t get any ideas about trying to escape… Why don’t you come outside, and see for yourself?” Turning on her heel, the woman exited the doors to the Guildhall. Reluctantly, Mavis found herself slowly following after her. The sight she saw next… chilled her to the bone.

The landscape in Magnolia had been shifted greatly. The Guild was now on top of a hill, and at least one million soldiers were arrayed in an overwhelming formation at the base of the hill, easily encircling it. What’s more, there were some others just outside the Guildhall… a couple of them had even been locked up, in the Guild’s prison.

“Your comrades are currently making their way here, in order to take back the Guild.” The woman told Mavis, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “I do wonder, will they be able to break through our defenses? I cannot wait to find out~…”

Ajeel cackled.

“Not a chance in Hell!!! Not as long as Ajeel the Great is here, standing in their way!”

Jacob snorted beside him.

“That so, bigshot? I seem to recall you losing quite pathetically…”

“Look who’s talking, asshole!!” Ajeel fired back. He then donned a terrifying grin. “That fluke ain’t gonna happen again.”

“Naturally…” Jacob darkly agreed.

August strode up to Irene and slammed his staff on the ground. Brandish trailed behind him.

“Irene… you are out of line! His Majesty forbade you from using Universe One… and you know why.” The elder mage glowered at her, which Irene met with an even stare.

“His Majesty was killed, thus leaving the leadership of Alvarez in the hands of the Spriggan 12… And I have captured our target. You have no room to criticize me, O Mighty King~…” The redhead demurely responded. August’s face darkened.

“I am the General of the Spriggan 12, Irene, not you… And I gave my word to the mages of Fairy Tail that I would be open to negotiations. This war has taken a toll on both sides.”

“Truly?” Irene’s grip tightened on Mavis’s shoulder. “You, of all people, would forgive the fact they murdered our Emperor in cold blood…? And what’s more, you would abandon your pledge to make his will for this world a reality?”

The air between the two strongest mages of Alvarez grew frigid and heavy as they glared at each other. Mavis, Brandish, Jacob, and Ajeel were frozen in place with how much tension there was. But then, as if to break the stalemate, Invel’s voice cut in like a knife.

“I am afraid you are the one out of line, Magic King…” He stopped a short distance from the two, hands clasped behind his back. Dimaria and Neinhart were both behind him. “With His Majesty’s demise, it falls to us to avenge him, as well as kill Acnologia and humanity, such as his will dictated. There is absolutely no reason to even entertain ‘negotiations’…”

August slammed his staff on the ground once more, asserting his authority.

“I, too, followed His Majesty’s will unconditionally… But we must also remember: His Majesty wished to die. For centuries as he traveled the world and built Alakitasia from the ground up… his one and only wish was to have his immortal life extinguished. This desire to eradicate humanity and Acnologia together… was borne from the bitter despair of being unable to perish. We have no reason to carry out genocide, when his true dream was finally realized!”

Invel sighed airily, inclining his head slightly as his eyes closed.

“Such hubris, from our so-called mightiest mage…The circumstances for His Majesty’s desire for genocide are immaterial. It was his will that we would rise up and defeat Acnologia. And it was also his will that we would crush Ishgar under our heel…” Invel’s eyes snapped open as he coldly glared at August. “You are unfit to lead the Spriggan 12, if you can no longer recognize that much. You are relieved of your position as ‘General’…”

August’s eyes narrowed.

“You would dare to presume to have such authority, Invel? Only His Majesty wielded that right…”

“Zeref is dead, and so the leadership falls to you, me, and Irene.” Invel spoke matter-of-factly. He eyed the scarlet-haired woman. “Tell me, Irene, what is your opinion on this subject? Do you believe August is fit to lead?”

Irene grinned darkly as she did a small curtsy.

“Oh, I certainly agree, Invel… The Magic King does speak some bizarre things. I have sent Acnologia far away with Universe One, and Fairy Heart is within our grasp.” She placed her hand on top of Mavis’s head and gripped harshly. “We should begin the harvest of Fairy Heart immediately.”

Invel nodded sternly.

“Agreed. I will leave that task to you, and oversee our defenses personally.” Invel then regarded August once more. “You have this one chance to help us willingly, August… If you will not cooperate, I will find ways to persuade you.”

August’s face darkened once more, and he raised his staff to cast a Spell, but he was distracted when Brandish cried out in pain from behind him. He turned, alarmed, and witnessed one of Invel’s slave collars around her neck.

“Invel…!” August’s voice boomed with authority, but the ice mage wasn’t having any of it.

“It is no secret to us that, no matter how trivial that intimacy may be, you are close enough with Brandish that you would not see her harmed in any way…” Invel replied frostily. August knew he was not bluffing; he could make Brandish kill herself, so long as she had that collar on. “Now do as I say, and crush Fairy Tail alongside us!”

August shook with unbridled rage, but for the moment, he did keep himself in check… With a ferocious snarl, the Magic King stormed off. Only once August had gone did Invel release Brandish.

“The same will apply to you, Brandish… We will need every member of the twelve for this operation to succeed. I would rather not have to force my hand…” He spoke with a clinical coolness before striding off, himself. Brandish glared holes in the back of his head, but did not pursue him. Dimaria was the next one to approach her.

“Randi…” Dimaria greeted.

“Mari.” Brandish greeted back.

“I had heard you were captured. They didn’t treat you horribly, did they?”

“No…” Brandish responded tersely, and widened her eyes when Dimaria abruptly wrapped her in a hug.

“I won’t say any of those awful and cruel things to you ever again!” Dimaria sobbed. “I’m gonna pay those fiends back tenfold for laying their hands on you…!”

Brandish could say nothing in response to Dimaria’s emotional display. She was still so shocked by how quickly things were spiraling out of control, and she was still so angry with Invel disrespecting August and threatening her life… Even if she was still a loyal citizen of Alvarez, she was not loyal to Invel anymore… No matter how much he asserted his authority as Chief of Staff.

A light glowed nearby, as Larcade Dragneel was summoned by Neinhart.

“Friendship is one of the world’s greatest beauties…” The strange man chuckled to himself.

Mavis whirled on the man as she got a feel for his power.

‘That person’s Magic… What on Earthland… just what nature of Magic is that?!’

Irene smirked, still gripping Mavis tightly.

“Larcade was supposed to be the proverbial secret weapon, in His Majesty’s initial designs… Sadly, now that he is but a Historia, that potential has diminished to being just a strong fighter for us… I very much doubt he could defeat Acnologia in his current condition.” The redhead mused.

Neinhart could feel some sweat drip down his face as he conjured the other three Historias.

“Conjuring four Spriggan 12 members’ worth of Historias certainly takes its toll on me, I must admit…”

Bloodman cackled.

“I see… So I hath returned from the depths of the underworld…”

“Well, well, would ya look at this… the twelve have all gathered together… Ahyahyahya!!” Wahl cackled as well.

God Serena did a little eccentric dance of his own.

“Hmm…! Ho, ho, ho!” The Dragon Slayer struck a pose. “God Serena of the Eight Dragons… has been resurrected!”

Neinhart growled as he glared at the four Historias.

“I would like to remind you four that you’re already long dead. I’d advise you to protect me diligently, lest you disappear from the living realm… permanently…”

“Just leave it to godly me!” Serena boasted arrogantly.

Irene made a grandiose gesture with her free hand.

“One million soldiers… the twelve all reunited… Truly a magnificent sight to behold!”

Invel walked to the edge of the hill, hands still behind him.

“We have assembled a perfect, impenetrable battle formation… Do you still dare to come here, Fairy Tail?” He asked rhetorically. His tone took on a frigid tone once more. “I shall not allow you to see tomorrow…”

14 notes · View notes

turnedtolead · 6 years

Text

Lifted - Part 4

(Masterlist)

(Read it on Ao3)

"Excuse me," Loki said to Anna, throwing the sliding door to the balcony open and slamming it shut behind him.

"Brother," Thor nodded, his smile fading at Loki's obvious rage. "You look well."

"Ever heard of the front door?" Loki snapped, gesturing towards the front of the house.

"I did not know you would have company," Thor said, looking beyond Loki to the woman staring behind the glass. She smiled and waved. Thor waved politely back.

"She has no idea, about anything," Loki warned, his tone murderous. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"Heimdall sent me there," Thor said quickly, pointing to a knoll below the balcony, completely out of sight. "I am certain she saw nothing."

"Why have you come," Loki asked suspiciously, not wanting to dance around the situation for even a moment. "To gloat?"

"I was planning on visiting Jane. The Bifrost was not beyond repair after all."

"Yes, was that much not obvious to you when I was cast out?"

"You know well why you were," Thor sighed. "And as someone who has been, I came to give you a bit of advice."

"Oh, pray tell," Loki insisted sarcastically, not at all wanting the counsel of the mighty Thor.

"Do not underestimate these people, Loki. Treat them and their realm with respect."

"Luke ," he whispered through clenched teeth, nodding in the direction of the house. He knew Anna was well out of ear-shot, but he wished to exercise caution all the same.

"Luke?" Thor repeated, taking a moment before understanding what Loki was trying to get at. "Ah, yes. Luke."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"Are you not going to introduce me then?"

"No. I'm not. Get out."

"Hi," Anna said, smiling as she opened the door, carrying several mugs on a tray. "Tea?"

Loki swallowed as he watched her place the beverages on a patio table, grateful for her ignorance of his ridiculous situation.

"Anna, this is - Henry," he said, recalling the name from a famous midgardian play he had seen in the early 17th century. "My older yet not so much wiser brother."

"Lady Anna," Thor said, bowing his head.

Lady Anna. These men were a trip. They talked the same, their manners were the same, but truthfully, the two were like night and day. Thor reminded Anna of the sun - bright, cheerful, conventionally handsome. Loki was very much the night - dark and mysterious with an attractiveness and allure that was unrivaled. If you hadn't known the two were related, the notion would seem ridiculous. Still, the familial tension was painfully obvious.

"Hi Henry," she smiled, handing him a warm cup. "I hope you like Earl Grey."

"I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with him," Thor replied, shrugging as he took a sip of the tea.

Anna laughed, clearly taking his response as a joke. Loki wanted to crawl under a rock.

"Your father owns such beautiful house," she continued, trying to lighten the situation with small talk. "Will you be staying?"

"No," Loki replied quickly, crossing his arms across his chest. "He was just leaving, actually."

"If you're worried about bedrooms, I can take the couch."

"My girlfriend and I live in Tromsø. I'm not terribly far," Thor replied, grateful for her generosity. "I simply came to see if - Luke - needed my help."

"But he doesn't," Loki assured, taking an obnoxiously loud sip from his mug.

"Tromsø," Anna replied dreamily. "I love Tromsø."

"It is rather nice," Thor agreed. "Pleasant scenery. Good coffee shops. I have had a rather difficult time finding pop-tarts, however."

Anna laughed again. "Well, I think they have some strawberry ones at our market in the town center, if you're desperate."

"That is excellent information. I thank you."

"Anna, will you excuse us," Loki said suddenly, icily. The possibility of her fawning over Thor was suddenly too much for him to bear. "There are private matters I need to discuss with my brother."

"Oh," Anna said, suddenly realizing how intrusive she had been. "Sure. I'll just be unpacking inside if you need me. It was nice to meet you, Henry."

"It was very nice to meet you, Anna," Thor said with a small smile. "I hope we meet again."

Anna nodded and turned to go back in.

"She is kind," Thor said quietly.

"She is nothing more than the help," Loki insisted, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced back at Anna through the windows and a strong pang of guilt surged through him. He did not think of her that way. It was cruel to say - even for him.

"Loki-"

"You aren't welcome here."

"Yes, well, I am here. And Earth is under my protection."

"Your precious Earth," Loki sneered, shaking his head. "These mortals aren't fit to shine my boots."

"Perhaps it is unwise to keep midgardians as company, if you think so poorly of them."

"We're done here," Loki said, turning around to walk back into the house. Enough was enough.

"Brother -"

"That I am not," he warned, turning around once more to point his finger at Thor. "I may have failed to finish what we started on the Bifrost. But if you come here again, I will be more than happy to pick up where we left off."

"Loki, I had no idea. About you -"

"Being a frost giant? The monsters we were taught to fear and despise as children? Yes, it's a shame. Neither did I."

"I do not think of the frost giants as monsters. I only wish you felt the same."

"Goodbye, Henry," Loki said, smiling sarcastically back at Thor. "Do send mother my regards."

Thor sighed as he watched his brother stalk back into the house without a second glance back. He turned and walked back down to the knoll, making sure he was completely out of sight before he spoke his next words.

"Heimdall," he said quietly, feeling defeated. "When you are ready."

Loki and Anna both retreated to their rooms for the entirety of the afternoon. Anna had taken a long bath and proceeded to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillows. Loki, still unable to sleep, decided it would be wise to conjure a luggage and clothing to fill his drawers, making it apparent that they had been delivered. He eventually drew his own bath and soaked for a long time, staring pensively out a large window at the snow-laden mountainscape.

Still seething about Thor's unwelcome visit, Loki reflected on their exchange. What in the nine realms was he doing letting some random mortal share his living space? After everything that had just happened - discovering his true parentage, Odin falling into the Odinsleep, becoming king in Thor's absence and sending the Destroyer to Earth, killing Laufey, attempting to destroy Jotunheim once and for all... and now his own exile. He had no business keeping the company of a mortal and he knew it. Not now, not ever.

Truthfully, he despised them. Midgardians ravaged their hapless realm, waged fruitless wars in the name of a work of fiction, glorified material possessions and left the old ways behind. Once worshiped as gods, the Aesir were now nothing more than mythologies. And what was the definition of a myth? A widely held but false belief or idea. No. Loki had no time for petty, benighted mortals.

But Anna... Anna believed. And it plagued him. Perhaps that was why he felt a protectiveness, an inexplicable sense of obligation to her. Perhaps that was what moved him to act in such an irrational manner by asking her to stay. Loki closed his eyes and splashed his face with the water, trying to will himself to come to grips with the situation. He wasn't looking forward to his time on this realm, but he had been looking forward to the solitude of it all. Maybe it was best that Anna filled her hours with cooking and cleaning. He had always lived in close quarters with maids on Asgard. This way, he could simply view her as his servant. Maybe then he could focus. Maybe then he wouldn't notice her smile so much.

After his bath, Loki dressed himself in a dark green, short-sleeved henley and grey sweatpants, proud of the midgardian wardrobe he managed to create for himself. He wandered out into the dark living room, lit only by a roaring fire and several small candles on the coffee table. Anna kneeled before them, fiddling with what looked like different colored rocks. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she wore red and white flannel pajama bottoms with a fitted white tank top and fur-lined moccasin slippers. Loki found himself staring, unsure of how anyone could make such a ridiculous style of clothing look attractive. But she did.

He coughed to make his presence known, immediately forcing himself from his dangerous thoughts.

"Hey," Anna smiled, sitting up a little straighter as he walked into the room. She found herself in continuous awe of ridiculously good-looking man standing before her, his shirt tight against his torso revealing prominent muscle lines, his dark, wet locks falling in a disarray across his bright blue eyes - a stark contrast to his flawless porcelain skin. She'd never thought of another man as beautiful, but that's exactly what he was. Breathtaking, really.

"I thought you were sleeping," she swallowed, trying to get a proper hold of herself. "Looks like your luggage came. Did Henry leave?"

"It did. And yes, he left. What's all this?" Loki asked as he walked over, looking curiously down at the array of rocks and candles on the table.

"It's, uh, my traveling altar. I ask so much from the gods sometimes. This is sort of how I say thanks."

"I see."

"This one is for Thor. Azurite," she said, holding up a crystal laden with various shades of blue. "I believe he's kind, but arrogant at times. So I use this to pray for him."

Loki took the stone she offered to curiously examine it, pleased with her opinion of him. Oh, my dear. How right you are...

"Odin gets this one. Clear quartz," she said, thrusting a larger one into Loki's hands. "For healing."

"Healing?"

"I don't think he's well. He has a lot on his plate."

Loki's brow furrowed. Indeed, Odin was not well. It was something most of Asgard knew, what with his tendency to take naps at the most inconvenient of times. But it was curious that she knew.

"You seem confident in your assumptions."

"I am," she shrugged casually, pulling a small, light pink stone from her bag. "Ah. This one is for my personal favorite."

"Who?" he said, with genuine intrigue. Oh, how he'd love to tell her of his own opinions of them all...

She placed the stone in his hand, her fingertips lingering a bit too long on his palm. He shifted. There it was again. That brilliant smile.

"Loki."

Every breath left his body the moment his name unexpectedly escaped her perfect lips. He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest as she looked up into his eyes with nothing but pure wonder and adoration, but it was overwhelming. By all means he should be flattered for he was never anyone's favorite. But this - this he felt unworthy of.

"Luke, are you alright?"

"What is it?" he said finally, placing the stone quickly back on the table, as if it were burning him.

"Rose quartz," she said, the uneasiness in his voice not escaping her. "For heartbreak."

"Heartbreak?" he scoffed, a little too quickly, a little too incredulously.

"Yes."

"And how exactly do you know these things?"

"I - I can't explain it. I just feel it."

"You just feel it?" he replied as he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his tone obnoxiously accusatory.

"Yes," she said firmly, not at all wanting to have to explain herself on the subject. Too many times had she been both physically and mentally persecuted for her for her beliefs. Too many times had Bjorn wrecked her altars, thrown her crystals and her candles in the trash, calling her every bad name in existence. She felt Loki's presence with everything in her. And she was exhausted from hiding it, of running from it.

"I see. And is he not the god of mischief? Of chaos, tricks and lies? Perhaps he's fooling you."

"He's just misunderstood," she said, taken aback by his knowledge of Loki as most people she encountered didn't seem to know much about him. "We all lie. We all trick. We all need chaos. We aren't meant to be stagnant."

"Perhaps you're projecting. Perhaps in your grief you've latched on to a fantasy, someone who you believe you can identify with. Someone who will... save you."

"That's reaching."

"Is it?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes down at her at his as his voice grew louder. "Forgive me, but you seem to be steady on a course of ill-luck. Perhaps you've favored the wrong god."

"That's not fair," she said angrily, not at all appreciating his disrespect. "I have a roof over my head. Food. A stranger I just happened to come across who is providing me those things."

"And was it Loki who brought you those things?"

"Yes," she asserted, her voice unwavering. "I believe it was. When I was sitting on that bench this morning I had no idea what I would do, where I would go. I held this stone in my pocket and I prayed. I felt his pain, and he felt mine. And immediately, there you were. Someone kind. Someone generous."

"You make strong assumptions about me," he said, standing to walk towards the windows, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched the snow fall heavily in the soft orange glow of the outdoor lights. "I am neither of those things."

"Well, I beg to differ," she replied, shaking her head as she went to stand beside him. "You said it yourself back at the cafe. I know you. I don't, of course. But I know that you're good and that your heart is-"

"Very much in tact."

"Right," Anna said, curiously looking up at him to find his eyes burning into hers in the glow of the firelight. There was a vulnerability in them, a disturbance, a vexation. She felt herself inexplicably wanting to touch him, to comfort him. Something she had said clearly resonated, clearly hurt him, and she was regretful of that fact.

Loki looked down at her, wanting to snap, wanting to let loose. Heartbreak? The girl didn't know the meaning of the word. But in her eyes was where he found the calm, the solace he so desperately needed. Who was he to make her feel small about what she believed in? He knew the truth, of course. That she worshiped a nobody - a desperate, lost soul. It was a lie he loathed. It didn't feel right.

"Luke. If this is too much, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed that this was okay to do here. I thought you were out for the night. I thought -"

"In the future I'll thank you to keep this," he said, gesturing back to her altar. "Confined to your chambers."

"I understand," she said, relieved that he didn't seem to be getting any angrier. It was important for her to pray, to be close to her gods. But she was also a guest in his space and the living room might not have been the best choice, even if she thought he was out for the night. She didn't appreciate him coming for her beliefs, but she had been naive to assume he would be tolerant of them. Many, many people were not.

Loki nodded and sighed, his expression gradually changing from one of anger to that of pure exhaustion. As angry as he was, with his family, his situation, himself, he knew none of it was her doing. If anything, she had mostly kept his mind off of his troubles, and for that alone he was grateful.

"You must be starving," she said suddenly, the notion just dawning on her. "I don't think I've seen you eat all day."

"I'm fine," he said quietly, running his hair through his locks exasperatedly.

"It's been a long day, for both of us. Maybe you're just hangry."

"Hangry?"

"Angry because you're hungry," she chuckled. "You haven't heard that before?"

"I am not hangry."

"Come on," she said, gesturing towards the kitchen as she pulled her hair down from her bun. "I'll go to the market in the morning. But with what we have now I think I can make a pretty mean grilled cheese."

Loki hesitantly followed her. He sat down on a stool at the island, completely mystified by this short, petite thing rifling through a mess of pots and pans before him. This day had certainly been a strange one. He knew well that he would never deserve this girl's attention, her thoughts, her prayers, her anything. But he knew then, looking at her laughing with a piece of butter caught in her long, fiery locks, that if she wished for his protection or his help... she would have it.

She would undoubtedly have it.

#loki #loki x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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