#ch: the naiad

[thatmightyheart]

all your blue exorcist art making wanna reread the manga so badly I'm so behind hjkll;

:o i'm glad!! if it's any consolation, technically so am i. LOL

#i'm on ch. 21 HAHA getting into the kyoto arc..... #looking forward to seeing my boy summon some naiads again [cupping my cheeks sighing twirling my hair etc.] #postcards #lightlykos

[dootznbootz]

Worth the Mess Ch. 1

...Tada! :'D I've decided to make that "Odysseus gives baby Telemachus a lemon" fanfic split into chapters instead! As it'll probably be around 25,000 words if I keep doing what I do. Anyways! It's fluffy and self-indulgent as hell and I had fun! :D Hope y'all like it! I will say it's more ODYSSEY INSPIRED as I got really indulgent. I keep to mostly everything but I also have a shitton of fun. Warnings: Vomiting as Penelope has magic food poisoning, Penelope is also a young mom and they're both parents so that'll come more eventually. Words: 6000+ Shout out to all my lovely friends for helping out and being so amazing! I love you all so much!!!

Odysseus looked at the pile of flowers he had in his hand, then back to the single bloom held in the other. A light blue, mostly small buds that have yet to open. Looking at the bundle, one side had more white than the rest and decided that’s where the new one should be placed. That’s what his father always told him. Something about the colors. He gently tucked it among the rest, careful of the petals.

The wind suddenly picked up, whistling past his ears and causing some strands of his hair that weren’t being held in it’s tie to blow in his face. He pulled his purple cloak tighter around him and waited for it to pass. A curl caught on his lip, annoying him. As the chill stopped, he pushed the hair back behind his ear. 

He looked at the pitiful bundle of flowers in his hands, making sure none were lost. It had only just become spring and he had to make do with what he could find. His collection had started earlier that day as he walked around the markets. A few blooms taken from there as well. 

Odysseus scratched as his shoulder, all the while searching once more against the plants for more to pick. Sharp gray eyes spotted a little white one with two flowers on the stem and he reached for it. 

He shifted his knees beneath him as he leaned forward and winced as the sharp gravel underneath stabbed at them. Squatting now, he grumbled and brushed the jagged pebbles that still stuck to his skin. He knew he didn’t need to do this himself. He was a king; he didn’t have to do anything he did not want to. 

…He reached again. 

Despite his strength, the smooth stem simply slipped through his grasp. Trying again, he gritted his teeth and pulled at the deeply rooted flower. Realizing that it would not budge, he took the small dagger he had with him and pressed his thumb against it, the stem in between. 

A smooth cut. Too smooth, as he then felt a sting of pain and a yelp burst from him as he pressed too hard and moved too quickly. Having dropped the dagger and the flower, he hissed as he pressed his now bleeding thumb to the red outer skirt he was wearing.

A long tongue licked at his cheek. He laughed and leaned away from Argo's cold little puffs as he sniffed around his face. “I’m fine, boy. Your master is just not using his head at the moment.” 

Argos made a noise that sounded like a sneeze before shoving his head under Odysseus’ arm for pets. The king smiled as he watched his dog’s tail wag when he started to scratch behind his ears. His fur soft and sleek under his fingers.

Good boy.

It was only the two of them right now, having sent the slaves that came with him away with a nice oak log that he planned to use for carving. He also wished to meet the naiads by himself, especially as this was a more personal visit.

He looked at the cut on his thumb, and was thankful it no longer oozed blood. If Penelope were here it would be completely healed, leaving no trace of his mistake… He huffed. For now just be happy you didn’t slice your thumb off… She’s resting now and that’s what she needs, he thought. 

At least now he could use both hands to scratch both his dog’s ears. Argos’ eyes closing and letting out a low content sound and leaning against Odysseus who turned his head towards the palace where his love remained. 

They usually went together while doing the rounds about their properties, as queen and king. Their palace watched over by his parents during their absence. Sometimes their son in their arms or strapped against them if they only planned to walk. Looking over their orchards, pastures, going on a hunt, a run, a swim, visiting friends… 

It was strange how ever since they met his mind was filled with thoughts of “Oh, she’d like this.” and “I’ll have to tell Penelope this later.” Being separated made him feel like he only had half his mind. Functioning like a dull carving knife would; usable but needed more effort to make something out of it. Even now he was picking flowers for her. Seashells he found on the shore and bought at the market today clinking in a pouch at his hip. Stories brewing in his head to tell her… It would’ve been better if he could give it all to her right now.

Four days ago, his Penelope had simply gone to the river naiads, something she did often. Odysseus usually went with her as well, but there were messages and disputes to attend to so she went alone. Their son also remaining with Odysseus as well, thankfully, as the nymphs had taken down a huge catfish that day. Not an uncommon occurrence, the naiads taking matters into their own hands when they felt something was out of balance in their environment. 

Odysseus was proud of her. He always was. He adored his powerful, little wife. She’s recovered so well since giving birth and he knew how much it meant to her to do what she did before. To feel like herself again.

The catfish was a beast. Three people were killed in it's rampage. While it wasn’t the largest creature Penelope has fought, as in Sparta there was more space, it was still longer than he was tall and it’s mouth could swallow his waist, making it even larger than her in comparison. It also had sharp, thin teeth unlike the usually gummy toothless maw catfish were known for. And as water nymphs do, they ate their kill in victory. 

Penelope was the one to deal the final blow to it’s skull, using the rivers current to force the beast hard into a dead tree that fell over the the water. Letting the sharp branches do the job for her rather than her blade. Her victory meant she got to take the first bite. The cheeks, her favorite.

He did not know that she was battling the beast at first so he was concerned with how late it was getting, as she usually let him know if she planned to stay the night with the nymphs. Telemachus asleep for his final nap, as they were trying to have him sleep in the night better. A messenger told him of the catfish however and that eased his worry. He knew the nymphs took care of each other. 

Soon later, she leapt from the pool he had built right outside their bedroom. He smiled as he put aside the records he was looking through and went to go meet her. 

What had been excitement turned to concern as he watched her, meeting her halfway. He was at first afraid she was possibly wounded. Looking at her somewhat ripped dress. As a naiad-born, she had the ability to heal with her water but he knew how stubborn she was. (Wouldn’t be the first time) While her sharp teeth gleamed with pride as she told him her story, she moved slowly and she was deathly pale. Her usually cold skin felt warm as she pulled him down to kiss his cheeks. She had even forgotten to use her ability to dry herself off, dripping water onto their floor before he reminded her. No, she wasn’t wounded, she was sick .

“I’m fine, dear Joy,” she had told him when he asked if a physician should be summoned. She smiled weakly as he guided her to their bed. With their son asleep, she thankfully didn’t argue with Odysseus about seeing him. “I’m only tired. I just had a scuffle with a beast you know. I’m more angry about that dress that got ruined…”-she shook her head only to stop when she realized it made her nauseous-“It…It was bad, but I stopped as soon as I knew there was something wrong with it and told the others. I definitely didn’t have enough of that monster to get sick from it. Telemachus gave worse stomachaches when I was pregnant.” 

He shook his head, tipping her chin towards him to look him in the eye. “Darling, you’re as pale as bone-”

“I’m always pale and you always worry.”

“Penelope-”

“Odysseus,” she tossed back, smiling. When she saw his worried face, she realized this was no time for banter. She softened and kissed his palm . “I am fine … Rest will make it better, you’ll see…If I do get sick, it…it probably will be short. Definitely wasn’t cursed, as that fish was causing problems anyways. I’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t sleep. He curled around her, as they always did, and just watched. She did not face him. He rubbed her back, tracing the constellation of birthmarks and smattering of scales that were placed upon her pale skin. Their legs tangled together. The little black cat she brought from Sparta, Anthos, slept by her torso. All he could think about was his wife’s stomach rumbling and her breathing throughout the short time she was asleep. He ordered maids to be at the ready outside their room. 

Strange woman, what sort of trouble did you get yourself into now?

Just as she seemed to finally get restful sleep, making him finally believe that she was right and that she was fine, she wretched his arms off her before her stomach purged itself over the side of their bed. The maids rushed in with buckets and rags as he sat beside her. 

Three days. Three days of wiping her lips and face. Of wiping her body down of sweat. Of just waiting . He watched over her most of the time, others only taking over when he couldn’t. Only truly leaving to be with their son, who he gained some comfort from, and for a few bad disputes his parents needed help with. He didn’t leave the palace.

He asked for the physician. Had prayers and a goat sacrificed to both Asclepius and Hygenia. Nothing changed.

Two days in he realized this wasn’t like when she was pregnant or the occasional illness. Whatever was in that wretched fish was causing this. He asked Goddess Athena for an answer, if Penelope had truly been cursed. All she said was she would live, which gave them both relief but he was still frightened and she was still in pain. 

She couldn’t even keep water down, the very thing ingrained into her very being. What she lived and breathed in. They made sure to have her dipped in the waters often, to keep her scales from peeling and to bathe her. He had to carry her to the warm bath where he and the maids would wash her. When she wasn’t throwing up, she was exhausted and slept, only to suddenly wake up and vomit once more. Since she could not consume anything, it got to the point where her body was heaving nothing until she started to cry… So dehydrated there weren’t even tears. All he could do was clean and hold her while she shivered in his arms.

“Tel…Telemachus-” she sputtered as he rinsed her neck and chest with a damp cloth. Odysseus quickly pulling his arm back as she began retching once more into the pot in front of her. 

Of course, at her worst, she thinks of their son. Odysseus’ heart ached for his wife. The physician (and Lady Athena) said to ‘wait it out. Let her body get rid of the toxins’. But neither the king or queen were good at patience. And Odysseus hated feeling so helpless. 

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he waited for her to finish before he comforted her. “Our son is fine, I go play with him when I can. His nurses are feeding and taking care of him right now. He misses you too but you’ll be better and can see him soon.”

He gently wiped at her nose, lips, and chin with a damp rag as she gasped for breath, her hand resting upon her sternum. She shifted. He thought she needed him to move but she whined and shuffled against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he pulled his arms around her, taking the damp rag to rest against some scales on her collarbone. He rested his chin against her sweaty head, hoping she could not see him grimace at the smell. He waited, watching Actoris replace the pot with a new one.

“Hurts…”

He bit his lip and blinked a few times but put on a smile and squeezed her. “You did just win a fight against a monster fish, love…” 

She giggled and looked at him with a tired but sly grin, with some mess still on her lower lip. Gods, he loved her. “Did I really if I’m left like this?”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss on the side of her head. 

She smiled, a good sign but she still trembled against him. Then her mouth twisted and a sob came from her burning throat. “I’m so reckless…should’ve known. It had teeth, Odysseus. That’s not normal for a catfish.” 

His lip curled before furrowing his brow and moving his head to look her in the eye. If he had it his way, catfish would no longer be seen on Ithaca. “None of that. The other naiads are just at fault as you are. They didn’t notice either. Aristomache is older than all of us and should’ve known better. Do you blame her? Do you blame them? ”

Penelope, already knowing what her husband was getting at, remained silent. She sniffled once and closed her eyes, exhausted. “...Do you know if they’re okay?”

He huffed, trying to keep some of the annoyance out of his voice. “They’re fine. A messenger was sent to all waterways and all the naiads are fine.”

She curled further into him, not responding. He sighed. “I’m not mad…Not at you at least,” he muttered. He used the back of his knuckle to stroke at the apple of her cheek. “Be gentle to yourself. You’ve recovered so well and are so strong…None of the others are mothers, and you’re the one who killed that thing. You’re doing better than most.” 

She looked at him with those silver eyes, before looking back at her hands. His words didn’t necessarily take all those feelings away but she could admit to herself that he was right. He took that as a win regardless.

“I still feel like shit.” She grumbled before leaning over and spitting some phlegm into the new pot. He rolled his eyes at her and wiped at her face again until she reached up to touch his cheek, where dark circles sat upon. Her tired face lined with concern. “Have you…You have rested as well, yes?” 

“I have,” he reassured, taking her clammy hand and kissing her wrist. 

“You could take another room if you can’t rest while here.”

“I sleep in our nest with you or outside on the dirt.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his bluntness. It was selfish but it brought her great comfort that whenever she was sick, usually within seconds she would feel those warm, rough hands rubbing her back. And if he wasn’t there, she was told he was with their son.

A strand of Penelope’s raven hair fell over her face, tickling her nose. He gently pushed the soft strand back behind a pointed ear. He called to Eurynome from where she was gathering new rags to help redo it. Eurynome braided her hair before tying it up in a wrap around her head, Odysseus keeping Penelope upright.

He picked her up and began to lay her down on their bed only for her to raise her hand and grab his wrist, her grip was weak. She wasn’t completely asleep like they thought. He placed his other hand over hers and leaned closer to hear her. She whispered, “What do those tablets say?” 

The king was taken aback, looking where her gaze was pointed. A pile of clay slabs that were resting upon the small table on his side of their nest. Someone must have left them there for him earlier, as she was in no condition to correspond. “I don’t know yet. I will look at them once I know you’re resting-”

“Did Linus respond? I need to know.” She was sitting up now, swaying a bit. Even sick, Penelope’s silver gaze was fierce. 

Odysseus gently pushed her back onto the sheets. She didn’t fight him, thankfully, though she still looked at him with demand. His heart warmed. Her stubborn determination was simply one of the reasons he loved her after all. “Dear Wife,” he began softly, rubbing softly at her shoulders with his thumbs. “I don’t need to see those slabs to know that you got the ten oxen you wanted. You would still be there at his house right now demanding him if you hadn’t.” 

He took a cool rag to wipe her forehead of sweat. Going under her chin and chest as well, careful of her sensitive breasts. He placed a different warm cloth given to him by Eurynome over top of them to help with the swelling. As she could not feed Telemachus in her condition, and despite her lack of food, they had to make sure infection or mastitis didn’t take root. When she winced, he murmured an apology. 

He pulled the blankets over her. She looked up at him, her sharp teeth shined at him. Bright as always. “I want that man ruined, Odysseus. If he thinks he can have some of Ithaca’s finest craftsmanship for just five oxen, then he has no idea who he’s dealing with…”

“I know. He already knows if you ripped into him as you do,” He kissed her forehead. “Now rest, silly woman.”

When he pulled back, she was looking above them where the canopy of their nest was. Odysseus raised a brow before raising his head to see a small gray owl, hiding among the branches.

Athena must have spoken with her, as she looked back at him, sighed and fell asleep. He looked up again and bowed his head in thank you. If all Athena could do was help his wife get some peace then he was grateful nonetheless. 

Odysseus pulled Argos closer and rested his head against him. His fur was soft. He traced spirals in his coat. The dog sniffed the wind, lost in his own little world just as his master was.

 He had summoned a physician again on the third day, worried about how to get the food she needed. She gave her a mixture that only ended up purged later. A waste of time and of the fine wine he gave as payment.

In the evening, Athena appeared. Telling him the Naiads wished to speak to him. As his Penelope was sleeping, he had Euryclea and Actoris watch over her while he sprinted to see what the nymphs had to say. Aristomache, the oldest of the naiads and often spoke on behalf of all the younger ones, waited on the edge of river bank for him. 

She was strangely more formal, having become what he would call mother-in-law figure for him with Penelope’s family so far away. While most would have to supplicate and bring many offerings to their nymphs, they had become a second family to him. Offerings were gifts now. Ithaca had never been so close to it’s nymphs until his new bride came with him almost eight years ago.

She was blunt in her instructions and gave him a strange plant. One with little pearls instead of leaves. Telling him that Penelope must have one pearl and to give them news when she is better again. He asked if this was punishment for his queen. If they had to do more to sate whatever was causing this. 

Aristomache gripped his hands tightly and forced him to look at her. “You will not do anything. Penelope was wronged…This is to make up for it.” She gave him a look, her deep blue eyes seeming to cut into him. He simply nodded. 

She said nothing more before she sank into the river. 

He decided not to question it despite how strange it was as he remained hopeful that this would be what finally helped his wife. He raced back to the palace, the plant in hand. He pulled off a pearl for Penelope as he was told. She had a hard time swallowing it at first. A short moment passed, everyone waiting to see what would happen. 

The queen retched up a small black glob that went into the pot with a splat, only to then disappear in a mist. She was exhausted and sank back into the cushions before sleeping once more, frightening him at first, but she was still breathing. He had the room and her be purified while she slept.

She still hasn’t woken up yet. 

“Master, she probably needs rest. More now most likely as she was fighting that ailment. She’ll be awake and better soon,” Euryclea had told him, wrinkled hands on his broad shoulder. 

He didn’t move. It’s been three days. Three days of her not being able to eat or drink. That…thing might be out of her now, but what of the damage it’s caused? 

“It would be best if you rested-”

“Get out,” he muttered, his lip twitching. He whipped around to look at them. “Now! Get out! I want you all out!”

Euryclea jumped back, she knew her king had a temper. “Now My King, she will still need help when she wakes-”

“And?! She’s sleeping now. She and the room have been purified. There is nothing more to be done. So you will get out !” He swallowed and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Check on our son while you’re gone... You will be called upon when she wakes but you will be out of our chamber until then.” 

He turned his head back towards their bed once he heard the whispering of the maids and the quick shuffling of feet. One tried to pick up her supplies. “Leave it!” he shouted without looking at her.

She stopped, startled, but did as he ordered and followed the other slaves. The room was empty now. 

Tension left his body as he sat on the bed, looking at his sleeping wife.  Her cheeks were red and were warm, and her breathing was deep. 

His vision blurred, and his eyes burned and so did his throat. A sob escaped him and he lowered his head into his hands. He let the curtain of his thick hair drape over him to hide his face, the ends of it laying against the blanket that covered her body. This wasn’t the first time he wept over her condition and he knew he shouldn’t expect her to bounce up and out after that but… She still looked sick. She hasn’t eaten or drank in days. Even if that sludge was out of her, what if the damage had already been done? 

He felt a cold gust against his back, causing a shiver up his spine. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was. He waited for her to speak.

He heard Athena in his mind like usual. Her deep voice echoed in his head with a chuckle. Penelope is asleep and could not hear her right now it seems. “You know, kicking them all out wasn’t necessary.”

He sniffled, tossing his head to throw the auburn locks bouncing once more against his back so he could look at the owl with his red-rimmed eyes. He grabbed a rag and wiped his own face now. And blowing his nose. “Well, they aren’t necessary either.”

“Really? Are you planning to stay up the whole time to watch her when you’re in such a state yourself?”

He glared up at her. She was resting on a branch that came out from their nest. He hated that she seemed to be smiling. And that she was right. He was exhausted as well. Stress, taking care of her, trying to remain relaxed while visiting and playing with Telemachus, half-assing being a king. It was all adding up and his head felt like fog.

“Sleep,” She was suddenly in the form of a young girl. Sitting at the end of their nest. “I’ll make sure she’s well. I knew her before I knew you, you know.” 

He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to. His eyes were shutting and he was now the one swaying. He went to the other side of the bed and crawled under the covers. “Wake me when she does, please.”

Athena nodded. He curled up to his wife, resting his head on her shoulder, resting his nose under her jaw… We need a bath , he thought before sweet sleep fell over him.

It was in the middle of night when he woke up, Athena brushing her feathers against his face to wake him before nodding once in Penelope’s direction and taking flight. This time he stayed awake and lit the oil lamp that rested in it’s special nook on their living bed he made. 

He looked at Penelope and hope filled him when he noticed the change. She no longer felt so hot under his touch, her skin going back to it’s familiar coolness. Color started to come back to her face. Her breathing no longer sounded so labored. Anthos laid upon her belly, so he scooped up the cat and placed her to the side. He then looked over her body, checking her scales once for peeling before settling for scratching under Anthos’ chin as he waited.

Penelope was laying on her back when she suddenly sat up and belched loudly. The warm damp cloth that had been laid over her breast fell into her lap. 

“Oh, gods-” she said before she covered her mouth. It would’ve been humorous in any other situation. 

Odysseus immediately sat up as well, pushing the blankets off himself to kneel on the bed facing her. Her silver eyes bright. She let her hand fall from her mouth as she felt her husband's rough hands cup her face. She blinked, her thick lashes fluttering once.

She watched as her husband’s stormy eyes scanned her with a worried brow and pursed lips. She chuckled at how his hair decided to wake. Parted too far to the right and weirdly flattened on one side.

Odysseus was taken aback by how she looked as she almost looked as though she had never been sick. The bags under her eyes were gone, her skin almost seemed to glow, and her silvery eyes were bright and focused. Tears no longer filled them. 

She waited, breathing deeply, reveling in her body working with her again. She opened her mouth slightly, relieved that nothing seemed to buildup just below her throat. 

She grinned at her husband, who was now looking over where some of her scales were, having memorized their placement. His hand now brushing over the scattering of some on her left hip once again. He looked back up at her wide-eyed, when she hummed lowly, her throat still burning from the bile of the last few days. 

“I think at this point you just want an excuse to look at me…” she rasped.

He snorted. “Since when have I needed an excuse?” 

He rested his forehead against hers, her pushing back a slight bit with her own, and he whispered, “How are you feeling? The pearls worked, yes?”

She nodded, then kissed his nose, “I think they worked, my Joy… I think I’ll be okay.” 

“Oh, praise the gods! Penelope!” He exhaled and pulled her close.

He placed a few soft kisses on the once sweaty and pale forehead that he would push her hair away from. As she giggled and turned away, he cupped her other cheek, pulling her face closer to his own to continue his affection. The kisses only stopped momentarily as he could not hold back his grin as he squished his nose into her cheekbone, no longer red from fever but from joy. Her sharp teeth glinted as she squirmed. Her body was sore and moving so much hurt her ribs but she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. She leaned away from him, as his hair was tickling her; it only left her neck vulnerable. He nuzzled himself on the pulse point, the same spot he desperately felt during the past few days. Her laughter, although still hoarse, was his goal; she truly meant it when she said she was feeling better.

He shifted, trying to pull her tighter to him when she winced and pushed him back, “Odysseus, my breasts hurt. Not so tightly!” 

“Forgive me, I forgot.” He still smiled, giggling himself as he took her freezing hand, a good sign for Penelope, and kissed her calloused fingertips.

Penelope shook her head and took a deep breath, wincing. She took the rag that was in her lap and wiped at the milk that had dribbled out on her. “My ribs definitely hurt as well”-she coughed- “and my throat…Maybe I’m not fully well yet actually.” 

He stopped his affections, face suddenly serious. “You don’t think you’ll be sick again, right? You said the pearls helped.”

 “Oh, they definitely did. I’ll be fine eventually. Just thisty and hungry and sore,” she said, her usually gorgeous voice hoarse. She swallowed thickly but smiled at him. He was clearly worried and she wanted to give her husband some peace. She rustled his hair so it wasn’t such a mess with her other hand. “But I actually feel pretty good. Though I did just wake up.” She gave him the rag to clean the droplets she left on his own chest.

“Good,” He said, tossing the cloth back when he was done and gave one final kiss on her cool cheek before shuffling off the bed, losing balance as he got tangled up in the blankets before taking off to call back the maids. “We’ll get you something to eat. That’s the only way to test if you’re better.” 

He looked out the doorway, somewhat regretting having yelled at the maids to leave earlier. Euryclea was nearby thankfully. Stubborn old woman. 

“She’s awake. Bring some food. Let’s try some fruits and bread for now, pomegranates, of course. And bring more water. Wake up the other maids when you finish bringing them. Go.”

He whirled back around and jogged back to where she sat. She was petting Anthos’ black fur as she drank from the little cup that was beside their bed. “Slow down, don’t overdo it…” 

She rolled her eyes. To “overdo water” was a silly concept to her as a naiad, but she did drink more slowly. He crawled back on their bed. He started to retie her hair which had fallen out while sleeping. She flicked her wrist and water hopped out of the pitcher once more into the small cup. Anthos curling up beside her.

He began combing her through her soft black hair, running into some of the knots with his fingers and gently undoing them. Going through it more times for his own comfort. She didn’t need anything fancy right now, especially as she should bathe soon. “How’s your stomach? Not feeling sick, right? You haven’t been able to have anything in days…”

“No, Odysseus, I don’t feel sick. I’ll be okay…” He finished tying her hair up with a leather cord and pulled her into his lap. She shifted a slight bit to sit more comfortably before suddenly her eyes got wide. “Th-the council! What day is it?!”

He scoffed and shook his head. He placed his hand over hers. “Rescheduled. Neither of us were in a state where we can go.” 

She wrinkled her nose but didn’t argue as he was right. Again. 

She squeezed herself up tighter into his strong arms. She had always enjoyed his warmth, always running colder than most mortals with her ancestry; they met in the middle. She traced some freckles on collarbone with her unoccupied hand.

She took another sip from her cup before turning her head and placed a kiss on his collarbone. “Thank you for taking care of me…I know the reason I got better is because of your care.”

“There is no reason to thank me,” he murmured. “I missed you so much.”

She smiled,“I don’t know if a man who barely left my side can say that.” 

“This man will say it no matter where he’s been.”

She snorted. “Speaking of which, I know I need a bath. When was the last time you’ve taken one?”

“Since you last had one,” He smirked at the way she wrinkled her nose. “We can take one after you eat.”

She gasped. “TELEMACHUS!” she started to turn away before she grabbed her left side and groaned. 

“Just my ribs! Calm down,” She grunted, reassuring him as he reached out towards her. She caught her breath and slowly brought herself back to curl back up against him. Anthos’ head now up looking at them. “I will see Telemachus.”

“You need to eat-”

“Then while we bathe! It’s not like our son isn’t capable of worse smells himself.”

He couldn’t argue with that. 

The pitcher was empty by the time Euryclea came in. The plate was soon empty as well. But her stomach remained full.  

Odysseus smiled as he sat with Argos now, playing with his floppy ears. That had been this morning. And it was why he was on his own. He told her what the Naiads told him and as always, she immediately was making plans as to what to do. He wanted her to rest and gain her strength back, she wanted him to “do his royal duties”. He was simply keeping his promise to her… 

That doesn’t mean that she still wasn’t on his mind. Or that he didn’t sneak in the castle at noon and was reassured by his Euryclea that she hadn’t snuck out or was doing anything too strenous. 

“King Odysseus! You’ve been sitting there for a while! Are you well?!” 

Argos answered before Odysseus could. His dog, who had been lulled to sleep by his master’s petting, stood up quick and began to bark at the sheep herder. The shepard’s own dogs rising to attention at the possible threat. The sheep surrounding him shuffled about in fear. 

Odysseus placed his hand upon the dog’s chest, Argos looking at him before looking back at the other man and his own herding dogs and growling. “Hush Argos, that’s no stranger and you know that,” Odysseus looked back up at Alkaios before grabbing the pile of flowers from the ground. “I’m well! Just lost in my thoughts. Is that the young lamb that you are so worried about resting on your shoulders?” 

Alkaios smiled and raised his hand to pat at little lambs head that he was carrying. “Yes, she’s getting strong though! She’ll catch up with the others and I’m sure soon I won’t have to worry about her anymore. And you won’t need to worry about your queen much now that I hear she’s getting better… I’m happy the sheep left you some flowers for your collection there.” 

“Yes, I am too,” Odysseus smiled back and couldn’t help but shake his head at the little faces that were crowding around the herder, as though they knew they were being talked about. “Would hate to go back to Penelope empty handed! I’m actually on my way to thank the Naiads for their help.” 

“I won’t keep you then! Have a good evening, my king!”

Odysseus nodded as he watched the shepard go over the hill, his flock following close behind. He was happy knowing his sheep were being watched over by Alkaios, always the dutiful shepard. 

He held the flowers and tried to reach into his pouch for a leather cord to keep them together and grumbled when he couldn’t find one. Of course, he forgot. He pulled on the cord that piled his hair on his head, releasing the thick spiraling curls over his shoulders and back. It was getting cold with the evening air so having another layer of ‘wool’ was helpful.

He had just finished the knot around the flowers, when he heard Argos whimpering. He whipped his head in his direction, worried his faithful companion was in danger, only to start grinning when he saw the actual problem. “You silly dog, you want it that bad? It’s too big for you!”

His hound was bouncing around a couple of rocks, a large stick sticking out of them. He looked back to his master, tail wagging and pleading with him to pull it out. 

Odysseus shook his head but walked over to it. He looked around the stones before he pushed one boulder with his leg and heaved the large stick out. He threw it in the grass where Argos picked it up and started to gnaw on the stick, much too large for him. His head leaning to the side from it’s weight. It was hard to believe that this was the same dog that was capable of taking down good game. 

But that’s why Odysseus liked him so much. 

“Good dog…Enough dallying. It’s getting late, and I must speak to the nymphs.” 

Argos simply crunched on his stick some more.

~~~

Let me know what y'all think! (also if there are spelling errors!) :D I know I have her being stubborn but know that Odysseus behaves the exact same way when sick. They're Likeminded and they behave basically the same in every way.

#odyssey #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #odypen #penelope #odysseus #epic the musical #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #Mad Writes #??? #sure. Why not? #the odyssey #fluff #tagamemnon #Baby Boy Telemachus comes soon! #please be nice I know I went nuts with my ideas and fluff and it's definitely not accurate but I'm a fluffy person so that's what this is! #I'm a lil terrified but oh well :P

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTERS 37 AND 38!

“Hey, I got your message, why are we here?” Zaida questioned as she spotted the boy leaning against the Jeep which was parked outside of the morgue, walking straight over to him and waving Allison goodbye as the huntress drove off. She immediately picked up on his jittery disposition and loosened her blocks just enough to feel how intensely upset he was and her own heart sank in response. She recognised that exact kind of sadness. She’d felt it herself when her parents had died. “What’s wrong? What happened? Who…?”

“After I left Lydia’s I got a call from Melissa to head to hospital and inspect the body of the boy at the pool.” Stiles spoke in a hesitant and shaky voice, his knee bouncing up and down nervously. “There was another body there - Heather’s.”

“Oh my God!” Zaida gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she imagined what might have happened.

“She didn’t know I knew her…” Stiles sniffed, his eyes watery.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” She shook her head and pulled him into a tight hug, not knowing how else to help the situation.

“When she didn’t show up after a couple of days I knew the chances of finding her alive were slim to none, but seeing her like that - so lifeless, and pale…” The boy fumbled over his words, his arms coming around her as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, revelling in the comfort of her embrace. At least Zaida was there, and she was alive, and breathing, and safe. The scent of her sweet perfume was calming, easing his anxiety.

“I- I don’t know what to say to make it better,” Zaida admitted, feeling essentially helpless as she brushed her fingers through his soft hair soothingly. She’d never admit it, but she’d wanted to do that ever since he’d grown it out.

“You don’t have to say anything, just…it helps. You being here with me helps.” He nodded slightly, taking in deep, stabilizing breaths with that sweet smell of honeysuckles and grape candy permeating his senses.

“What…uh, what happened to her?” She asked, trying to work it in a way that didn’t sound insensitive.

“It was just like the boy at the pool. Strangled, slashed throat, head caved in.” He mumbled, his words distorted as his moving lips brushed her skin and sent tingles down her spine.

“Two murders, the exact same injuries…it had to of been the same person, and it can’t have been Boyd or Cora. I saw how feral they were and they would have torn them to shreds, and Heather’s been missing for a lot longer than they’ve been out of that vault.” Zaida reasoned.

“There was another girl who went missing tonight. I talked to her girlfriend at the hospital…all three of them were virgins,” Stiles revealed, still holding onto her for dear life. “Heather, that boy at the pool, and the missing girl.”

“Three is a pattern. Wait, you don’t think…?” Zaida trailed off at the absurdity of it. Although, werewolves were real, kanimas were a thing, she was a naiad…maybe it wasn’t that absurd after all.

Stiles merely sighed - it was a deep and heavy sound, full of stress - and he shifted his hands to caress her back, accidentally slipping her shirt slightly up and brushing the ice-cold skin just above the waistline of her skirt. Zaida shivered in surprise and the boy pulled away with a slight frown, blinking away the glassy quality in his amber eyes and tugging his flannel off to put it around her. “Wait, what are you-?” She questioned with a slight frown.

“You’re freezing, just shut up and put it on.” Stiles insisted and she slipped her arms into it, feeling the warmth of his body heat still clinging to the fabric. It smelled just like his shower products - just like him. His deft fingers buttoned the garment up from the front and Zaida tucked her hands into the too-long sleeves.

“Thank you,” She smiled at him gratefully, her cheeks flushing a shade of red that she hoped he couldn’t see in the dim light of the breaking dawn. Her heart thundered in her chest so loudly she worried even he might be able to hear it. She should really take a step back from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to. He was impossibly more beautiful close-up.

“Are you okay? How did it go with Allison?” He brushed a loose piece of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear to get a clearer view of her face, his fingers coming back hook under her chin and tilt her head up towards him. That look that she gave him with her lips slightly parted and her eyes looking up at him through her long, dark lashes made him pause. Sometimes he forgot just how gorgeous she was because she was Zaida - his best friend after Scott. But every time he stopped to really look at her would strike him again like a bolt of lightning seizing his muscles and stilling his breathing.

“Good, surprisingly,” Her voice came out in a breathy and quiet quality. Her eyes flickered away from him and down at her muddied boots, away from the intensity of his gaze as she cleared her throat. The next time she spoke was more solidly. “We got to talk about a lot, and…well, I realised just how much I actually missed having her as a friend.”

“I’m happy for you, then.” The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in a genuine smile. “Actually, I’m just glad she didn’t shoot another bolt into your leg.” He joked to lighten the slight cloud of strange and unidentifiable tension that had fallen over them, and she snickered lightly.

“Yeah, me too.” Zaida nodded in agreement, and the sound of an engine growing louder in the quiet of the night alerted them to Scott’s oncoming arrival. The blinding headlights on Scott’s motorbike landed right on them, causing Zaida to finally step away, shielding her eyes until he turned the bike off.

“Scott, how’d it go with Boyd and Cora?” She asked him, curious as to whether the boys had managed to pull off the rest of their plan.

“We lured them to the school and locked them in the boiler room, not knowing Ms Blake was in there. Derek had to go in and stop them from tearing her apart, but he held them off until the sun started coming up and the power of the full moon finally started to wear off.” Scott relayed with a tired expression. They could all do with a good sleep after being up all night running on high adrenaline. “Why’d you wanna meet here? Is it about the body at the pool?”

Zaida’s lips thinned into a line as she looked at Stiles’ crestfallen expression, stepping in to save him from having to say it again. “It’s Heather. They found her body.” She swallowed dryly and Scott dipped his head in understanding.

“Come on, I gotta show you something.” Stiles pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked them over to the back entrance. How the boy had the keys to the morgue, she had no clue, and quite frankly she didn’t want to know.

“So, Boyd and Cora might not have killed anyone?” Scott questioned upon seeing Heather’s body and recognising that her injuries were certainly done by the hands of the feral werewolves.

“You're gonna wish they did,” Stiles said grimly, averting his gaze away from the corpse of the girl who had been his childhood friend.

“Why?” The werewolf asked, turning to them with worry in his dark brown eyes.

“I'm not exactly sure yet...but I have a theory.” Stiles began, his voice rough from the emotion he was holding back.

“There was a third girl who went missing from the Preserve tonight,” Zaida explained for Stiles and he took over when he felt composed enough.

“The other girl who was out in the woods, Emily? Eventually, they're gonna find her. She's one of them. Emily, Heather, that guy Lydia found at the pool? All three were virgins. And they're all gonna have the same three injuries - strangled, throat-slashed, head bashed in. It's called the three-fold death.”

“So, if these aren't random killings, then what are they?” Scott spoke-up, not picking up on what Zaida and Stiles immediately had.

“Sacrifices…” The boy sighed in response, finally saying it out loud. “...Human sacrifices.”

Zaida stood at the beginning of the track, squatting and lunging to stretch the muscles in her thighs as she waited for the rest of the cross country team to join the small group of them who were already ready to go for one of their first official training sessions.

“You never struck me as a track girl, Zaida.” Danny chuckled at her as he effortlessly jogged up to where she was now stretching out her calves.

“I’ve been going for jogs in the Preserve for months now. I thought if I join, I can do this instead of those.” She shrugged. Truthfully, she felt as though she needed the extra exercise, what with everything currently going on in Beacon Hills. If it ever came to it, she wanted to be able to run as far and as fast as needed. “Why’d you join?”

“Coach makes it mandatory for Lacrosse players - says he doesn’t want us getting fat in the off-season.” Danny shrugged.

“This school takes that game way too seriously,” She rolled her eyes.

“Really? I could have sworn I saw you getting pretty into it at the grand final.” Danny shot her a mischievous and suggestive smirk. She recalled how enthusiastically she’d been cheering Stiles on that night and a flush rose to her cheeks. Had everyone discovered her feelings for Stiles before she had?

“It was a tense game,” She shrugged, hoping she sounded casual instead of dismissive.

“Oh, there was tension, for sure.” The boy winked at her and she huffed at him. “Speaking of which, if you did want to grab a ride on that train, Stiles was just saying this morning how he’s looking to give it up.”

“I’m sorry, he said what?!” She blanched, her heart stopping in her chest as she spotted the boy joining the group, along with Scott and Isaac.

“He was borderline hysterical in the locker room, going on about how he thinks some guy got kidnapped because he was a virgin and that his ‘lack of sexual experience was now literally a threat to his life’.” Danny quoted the boy and Zaida slapped her palm over her burning face. He was talking about the human sacrifices. That boy needed to learn how to keep his volume down in public. Coach Finstock blew the starting whistle and Danny began jogging backwards. “Try to keep up if you can, Callis.”

“Nobody likes a show-off, Mahealani,” She started after him, her sneakers digging into the soft ground to propel her forward until she reached the hard dirt track that wound through the section of the Preserve that connected to the back of Beacon Hills High.

“But I make it look good!” The boy laughed, and he truly did. He was an Adonis amongst them, but it would do his ego no good to know that.

As she kept a steady pace a few feet behind Danny, Isaac bolted past her with inhumane speed. Not even a few seconds later, Scott was running after him calling the werewolf’s name in warning. It was all Zaida needed to propel herself forward towards the front of the group. Her lungs burned as she tried to keep her breathing stable. They both disappeared further up the track chasing after the new twins who were in first place. Why would they be...? And then it hit her. The new boys had arrived at school around the same time the alpha pack had come to town. Peter had mentioned something about two alphas that merged to create one giant alpha. That seemed like a very ‘twin-like’ skill. How had the two been right under their noses the entire time and they’d never noticed?

Somehow Zaida ended up making it to the front of the group - considering everyone else was taking it easy due to the long length of track ahead whilst she was sprinting - but she was still nowhere near the werewolves who seemed to have gone off-road. She came careening to a sudden stop at the sight of a body strung up against a tree. The boy’s head was sagging forward but she could see the blood that had streamed from the top of his head and around his neck, drenching his shirt, jacket, jeans, and even his shoes in deep crimson liquid. The rope that had been used to strangle him was still suspending him up on the trunk. Only..upon closer inspection that wasn’t a rope. It was a dog’s leash. Her scream was caught in her throat, causing her to emit a choked sound as footsteps crunching on dried leaves approached from behind her and quickly stopped.

“Hey, hey, don’t look.” Danny pulled her away from it protectively, and from her new position, all she could see were the faces of her terrified classmates. Stiles pushed through the crowd to get to her and looked past to where her back now faced the corpse of the boy. The werewolves finally rejoined them, the twins staring at the body with a complete lack of recognition in their eyes.

“It's him, isn't it?” Stiles asked as Scott stopped by his side. Scott gave a slight nod in confirmation. It was the boy who had gone missing from the animal clinic when he was working the night before.

“Hey, get out of the way! Get back!” The voice of Noah Stilinski ordered them. The fact that he had shown up so quickly made her think that someone else had already called the body in. They had just unfortunately stumbled across it before the police had arrived. “Get this area cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence.”

“Back up! Everyone back!” A dark-skinned deputy named Tara - one whom Zaida often exchanged greetings with at the station - started to clear the area.

“Zaida?” Another familiar voice called out for her. Her brother appeared in her peripheral vision, pulling her away from the violent crime scene, frowning at her in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“It’s not the first one I’ve seen,” She admitted in a dry voice.

“Is something going on again? Is there anything you’re not telling me?” Xander asked her, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him this time.

“There’s an alpha pack in town, but we don’t think this was them.” She answered honestly.

“An alpha pa-” He started, clearly not having heard of that term before.

“They’re all alphas. Every last one of them. And their leader is apparently the worst of all.” Zaida interjected. “We don’t know what they want yet - we just know that they kidnapped Erica, Boyd and Derek’s younger sister, killed Erica, and tried to kill Derek, Scott and Isaac. Those two over there, the identical twins? They’re part of it.”

“You should have told me sooner,” He locked his jaw in frustration but let it go with a light huff, simply glad that she was okay. “Just go with your friends and let me handle this, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see you at the apartment.” She nodded and followed his instruction, heading over to join Stiles, Isaac and Scott.

“Get these kids out of here!” Stilinski was still shouting for the place to be completely cleared out.

“You heard the man!” Coach tried to be helpful. “Nothing to see here! Probably just some homeless kid…”

“Coach?” Scott interrupted him. “He was a senior.”

“Oh…” Coach covered his mouth and let out a long and heavy sigh. “He wasn't on the team, was he?”

“Seriously, Coach?” Zaida looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“KYLE!” An ear-piercing shriek caught them all off guard as a young woman and the hairs on Zaida’s arms stood up as her blood curdled at the sound. “Oh, God, Kyle! Oh, God!”

“Go on! Go.” Noah shot them all a stern look and they backed away, separating from the rest of the class to talk in private.

“You see the way the twins looked at him?” Isaac pointed out, his nostrils flaring and muscles in his jaw tensing as he glared.

“Yeah, you mean, like, they had no idea what happened?” Stiles scoffed.

“No. No, they knew.” Isaac insisted.

“The kid was strangled with a garrote, all right? Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolf-itude in these murders?” Stiles exclaimed in exasperation, butting heads with the beta as usual.

“I think you’re a bit biased here, Isaac, and I’m not blaming you for it, but I just don’t think it was them.” Zaida supported the boy.

“Oh, you think it's a coincidence they turn up and then people start dying?” Isaac targeted his response more at Stiles than at her.

“I don’t think that it’s entirely separate. It’s too weird for it to have started happening at the same time after months of peace in the supernatural realm. The two are probably connected somehow…” Zaida mused, chewing slightly on her bottom lip in deep thought.

“But I still don't think it's them…” Stiles finished her thought process for her, looking to Scott for his opinion. “Scott?”

“How 'bout you?” Isaac did the same.

“...I don't know yet.” Scott stumbled over his words, sounding entirely unsure of himself.

“You don't know yet?” Stiles repeated with a dramatically incredulous expression.

“Well, he's got a point…” Scott tilted his head with a sceptical tone. “Seriously, dude? Human sacrifices?”

“Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow-sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal, but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices???” Stiles ranted, completely appalled.

“That's a good point, too…” Scott sighed in agreement.

“I don't care. They killed that kid. They killed the girl that saved me. I'm gonna kill them, too.” Isaac stated determinedly with a dark look in his blue eyes, stalking off.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m with you on this one, Stiles.” Zaida huffed and propped her hands up on her hips.

“It’s worth a lot,” Stiles smiled at her gratefully, and her heart melted a little bit.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #stiles #stiles x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #lydia martin #female oc #female original character #scott mccall #allison argent #isaac lahey

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

Vikings!Nymphs

inspired by @quantumlocked310's Supernatural!Vikings Series

The Nymphs were minor nature goddesses which populated the earth. Although they were ranked below the gods, they were still summoned to attend the assemblies of the gods on Olympus.

Gunnhild!Dryad

Dryades (or Oreiades; greek Ορειαδες) were the nymphs of trees, groves, woodlands and mountain forests.

~~·······~~

Aslaug!Naiad

Naiades were the nymphs of rivers, streams, lakes, marshes, fountains and springs.

~~·······~~

Freydis!Hesperid

Hesperides were the nymphs of evening and the golden light of sunsets.

~~·······~~

For Greek!Mythology nerds more info about Nymphs here!

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @heavenly1927 @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @vikingstrash

#my fav is Gunnhild which is yours? #Melon inspiring me

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 2 part 3

After seeing the adventurers off, I decided I’d had enough of people for a while. I turned my attention to the property around the cottage, focusing especially on the golem. I scrubbed the moss off of the stone and picked the dirt out of the joints until it was tolerably clean. Then, I looked again at the runes covering its torso. I found that there were many I didn’t recognize. I copied them all down—hopefully I’ll be able to find some information in the library in town. I’ll include some of the most often-repeated ones here.

There are some clear idiosyncrasies and themes that run throughout the runes which make me think they’re personalized—the circles, the short lines capping longer ones like a “T,” all the angles with no curves—but then, runes aren’t my specialty. Anyway, that’s for later.

For now, I’ve got an empty garden plot to fill. One of the most common symptoms of the ailments I treat is pain of one kind or another, so I figure it will be a good idea to have a painkiller on hand. I’m going to Glimmerwood Grove to search for some foxsocks.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

The trip was significantly more eventful than I’d hoped.

Foxsocks is a shrub that—with the exception of its characteristic bright orange flowers—sticks low to the ground, spreading its leaves wide to crowd out any nearby competitors for soil space with its shade.

I found the shrub fairly easily, and collected enough seed pods to fill my garden plot. As I was headed back, though, I started feeling lightheaded. I went to lean on a tree, but didn’t make it that far before I passed out.

While I was unconscious, I remember having dreams, or visions. It was mostly auditory, with voices whispering all around me. Some seemed far away, others right up against one ear or the other… It was all extremely disconcerting. I don’t remember everything, but I’ll write what I can. The syllables didn’t make any sense to me—maybe it was a language I don’t understand. I’ll have to spell them phonetically:

“Hoyt en ah deh”

“Leh hed”

“Nuh bah ree nuh nyo nach”

That last “ch” isn’t quite right. The sound wasn’t like the one in the word “cheese.” It was softer, father back in the mouth, like a cat’s hissing.

The voices were accompanied by a cascade of images, many flashing by too quickly or too blurry and distorted to make out.

I remember a straight line of houses, all the same shape but different colors, made out of a material uniform and smooth and strange. I remember a vast spiderweb, made not of silk but of words and deeds. Families laughing and families screaming. Giant hamsters and tiny dragons. All of the colors in the world and a few more.

And then snow, maybe? That’s all that’s returning to me now.

When I woke up, I was lying prone in a clearing. Sitting up, I found I was at the center of a rough circle of toadstools. A fairy ring.

Blighting fairies.

As I stood the whole world felt off-kilter, tilted about thirty degrees to the left. I was queasy and there was a pulsing behind my eyes. I stumbled out of the circle and went crashing through the underbrush, trying to find my way home.

My vision swam and I couldn’t see where I was going. Suddenly, I was falling. I landed with a splash in a creek. Fortunately, the shock snapped the world somewhat back into focus. Unfortunately, I got all wet. Fortunately, I realized I wasn’t nearly as wet as I should have been… because someone had caught me in their arms.

I looked up and beheld without question the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Chiseled chest, aquamarine eyes, full lips, and long hair that flowed down his back and became water before it reached the surface of the creek. This last feature struck me as odd, and I looked back at his face. He asked me (I realized he was repeating himself) if I was alright. I asked who he was.

He said his name was Calder, and he was the naiad of this creek. I said I thought naiads were all women. He told me it would be wise not to always work off of stereotypes. He asked if I was alright again.

I told him I was—I’d just had a run in with some fairies. He nodded and asked if I’d eaten anything of theirs. I rolled my eyes and said I wasn’t stupid. He chuckled and said you never know.

He lifted me onto the far bank (he was so strong) and as I stood and wrung myself out I was able to get a better look at him. His torso was bare, his skin almost-human looking except for a greenish tint. He didn’t have a solid form below the waist—just above the water line, his skin transitioned into liquid and joined the current of the stream. From the way his form and the stream interacted I could tell this was voluntary (and nature spirits such as naiads are well-known to be shapeshifters), and I wondered whether he would have legs or a fish tail.

I realized I was staring when he waved his hand in front of my face. He asked (again, clearly repeating himself) if I visited Glimmerwood Grove often. I told him that I was a witch, and would be foraging for ingredients in the woods fairly regularly. He said that I ought to come visit him the next time I was around.

My response to this was… likely entirely incoherent.

He put his hand out and, seeing as it was all he could reach from his position, placed it on my shin. His palm felt like solid skin, just a bit wet. He told me to get home safe.

Eagerly, I complied.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I did vomit after I got home, but I'm feeling better now. Tomorrow I’ll head to the library to pick up some books for Morna and do some research on the runes.

I’m starting to warm up to this town, I think.

⇦●〇●⇨

#writing #writers on tumblr #sigils #fantasy #original writing #writeblr #writblr #apothecaria #entry #amwriting #creative writing #fiction #rpg #writeblr community #high rannoc #writers #writerblr #writers of tumblr #witchblr #witchcraft

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven: The Trojan War, pt. 03

(A/N: The end of the Iliad with some comic relief and lots of heartbreak at the end, because that's how the Iliad works. This isn't the last chapter about the Trojan War, but the next one will be. This is just the last part of the Iliad.)

.

Book Nineteen:

.

The next morning saw Thetis giving her son a freshly forged armour of such splendour, that Akhilleus was the only one who could even look at it directly.

As he marched the camp up and down, the other leaders came to the assembly, even though Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus were severely injured and could hardly walk.

Akhilleus announced the end of his strike, much to the delight of the Achaean army.

He and Agamemnon finally talked things out and buried their old grudges.

“Right!”, Akhilleus exclaimed, “Enough talking! Let's go into battle already!”

“Not so fast!”, Odysseus (the resident braincell-owner) objected. “Our troops are exhausted  and many of us are wounded. We need all the energy we can get. So there is one more thing we have to do first!”

“And what would that be?”, Akhilleus snarled impatiently.

“Have breakfast”, Odysseus deadpanned.

“OH COME ON!!!”

“No.”

.

Book Twenty:

.

On Olympos Zeus had made his ex-wife Thémis gather all the gods (literally all of them – even the Naiades and Dryades¹). Tiredly they dragged themselves out of bed and into the assembly hall.

Poseidon was the first to speak.

“Sooooo”, he drawled, “What are you plotting now, Astrapaios²?”

Zeus was lounging on his throne like a boss.

“Oh, you know what I want, Ennosigaios³! I won't wish for Akhilleus to conquer the city just yet, but he will, if we're not careful. And this is why I hereby decree, that the prohibition is lifted! You may interfere with the battle as much as you please!”

Suddenly everyone was wide awake and those who had taken a side in the war went to ready themselves for a battle royal – uh, I mean battle divine.

Of the Olympians, Dionysos (one of the few gods who had refused to get involved at all) was the last to leave the room. He used the opportunity to question his father.

“Dad, if you don't mind …”

“Ask away!”

“Why exactly did you change your mind again?”

Zeus chuckled at his son's perceptiveness.

“For the reason I stated earlier of course. Well, that and because I want to amuse myself by sitting here in my neutrality and watching this divine spectacle.”

“… Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, my son! Bring wine, this is going to be good!”

.

The gods joined the war and wasted no time in making things more interesting … for them!

Eris was having a blast with this spectacle.

Zeus was setting the mood above with thunder and rain.

Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and the queen of earthquakes happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK???”, he heard Hades' voice shriek from below, “POSEIDON, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? IF THE GROUND BREAKS OPEN AND FALLS DOWN IT WILL REVEAL THE UNDERWORLD AND BURY EVERYTHING BENEATH!!!”

Poseidon laughed sheepishly and yelled back down: “SORRY, BRO!”

Maybe I overdid it with that earthquake …

Some distance away, Apollon had convinced Aineías, that fighting Akhilleus would be a brilliant idea.

Poseidon didn't notice until Hera pat his shoulder and said to him and Athena: “Uh, we have a little problem back there” - and pointed to where Aineías and Akhilleus were about to duke it out.

“Don't worry, sister”, he replied, “We're stronger than them. If any of Troy's gods comes close to Akhilleus, that's nothing we can't take care of.”

Still, the gods of the Achaeans didn't want to engage in a bloodbath, before agreeing on a strategy.

On the battlefield, Aineías and Akhilleus ran into each other and started with a verbal duel, before lunging at each other. Poseidon quickly assessed, that the son of Thetis was outclassing the son of Aphrodite.

“Alright, here I come!”, he sighed, “Apollon won't save him, but the youngster is fated to live.”

Then he threw himself into the maddening throng and momentarily blinded Akhilleus, before he could decapitate the disarmed Trojan. Grabbing the mortal by the arms, Poseidon took to flight and carried him away to safety.

“Okay!”, he snapped at him, once they were back on the ground, “First off: Are you fucking insane?! Trying to take on Akhilleus, who is favoured by the gods and far stronger than you? He will send you to Hades, before your time is up! Secondly: as long as he is alive, you stay away from battle, you dumbass son of an even more dumbass goddess!”

With that, the Lord of the Sea left Aineías behind to wonder what the heck had just happened.

.

Akhilleus on the other hand just shrugged it off and went back to slaughtering Trojans en masse.

Apollon had warned Hektor not to go against the deranged demigod, but when the Trojan prince saw one of his brothers get killed by that very man, he forgot the warning and attacked him.

Akhilleus immediately recognised the slayer of his dear soulmate and charged with a battle cry.

But Apollon, always having the best timing, stepped in and saved the Trojan.

Again.

This is getting old.

.

Book Twenty-One:

.

The Trojans were fleeing in panic from the deranged and bloodthirsty demigod.

But Hera conjured a thick fog, making it impossible for them to see.

Those who didn't get lost in the fog where cornered and driven into the holy waters of the river Xanthos (or Skamandros, as the mortals called him). They jumped or fell into the quick waters, struggling and screaming for help. Akhilleus in his blood rush jumped after them and slaughtered the Trojans, who were already drowning, dyeing the waters red with blood.

That pissed off the river god, because no one liked having their waters defiled with gore and corpses. Politely requesting Akhilleus to stop dumping corpses into his river didn't help, so Xanthos lost his temper and promptly left his riverbed to make the demigod stop.

Only when this colossal mass of water rose before him, was Akhilleus seized by fear and he made a run for it across the field. But the river always caught up to him, because he was still just a demigod and Xanthos a full god and gods just were stronger than mortals (unless you were Herakles).

Athena and Poseidon came to his rescue, before he could die a most unheroic death by drowning. They warned him to go back to the battlefield, kill Hektor and return to the Achaean camp, then they left to mind their own business.

But the river wasn't done yet; it joined forces with another river, both hell-bent on drowning Akhilleus.

This was seen by Hera, who turned to Hephaistos. “My son, I thought you would take care of the river god? What are you waiting for? Show him your destructive flames. I will release the winds to fuel them. Do not stop, until I ask you to.”

Hephaistos, powerful fire god that he was, raised his arms and unleashed his divine fire above the river (never mind, that it was still raining). Hera released the north and south wind.

The unearthly fire storm, hotter than the surface of the sun⁴, spread across the heath, consumed the bodies of the dead and made the rivers writhe in agony from being boiled alive.

Xanthos soon begged for mercy, but Hephaistos was only following his mother's orders, so the river turned to Hera and begged her to control her son.

Now the Queen of the Skies finally showed the mercy asked of her and told her son to stop.

Hephaistos rolled his eyes, but called his fire back.

Xanthos returned to his river bed, recovered from the torment and he stuck his head out of the water to glare at the fire god. “And here I thought you were not an arsehole!”

The divine blacksmith laughed: “Oh, you're wrong! I'm less of an arsehole than the other Olympians, but I still can be a prick!”

Hera chuckled in amusement.

.

On his throne on Olympos, Zeus was having the time of his life, because now the gods were charging at each other at last.

“Ohhh, now they're getting started! This is going to be priceless! Where are the wine, cookies and my camera?”

Hebe and Dionysos brought him both and then sat with him to enjoy the show.

.

In the meantime, Athena had finally turned to Ares.

“'Sup, arsehole”, she greeted him.

“'Sup, fellow arsehole”, he retorted. Then he had his sword out. “Don't think I have forgot how you let that fucker Diomedes pierce with a spear! Now it's time for payback!”

I thought he already had- oh, never mind.

He attacked first and they duked it out for a while, before he threw his spear at the impenetrable Aigis she was wearing on her chest. Athena leapt back, grabbed a stone and hit her opponent at the back of his neck with it.

Knocked out, he collapsed.

“Hah!”, she yelled in triumph. “I'm the one who gets the payback! That's for abandoning your mother and me in favour of supporting the Trojans! Well, that and the fucking prohibition you put into our father's head. What's that with you always forgetting what everyone has realised a long time ago: that I am stronger than you and always will be!”

“Ares!”

Athena whirled around to see the goddess of love running to her lover's aid.

Aphrodite grabbed Ares' arm and began to drag him to safety.

“Are you just letting her do that?”, Hera spat at Athena.

The goddess of wisdom rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'm on it!”

Strode up to Aphrodite, who was struggling under Ares' weight and hit her on the chest, knocking her out as well. There they lay, with the bright-eyed goddess standing above them.

“This is what happens to the allies of Troy and everyone who gets in my way!”, she snarled.

Aphrodite came to herself and glared up. “You're full of shit, Athena.”

The war goddess shrugged. “Look around, Aphrodite. Everyone here is full of shit. Especially you.”

.

At the same time, Poseidon was facing Apollon.

The sea god taunted his nephew: “What is stopping you, Sunny Boy, now that the others are at each other's throats?”

Apollon sighed: “Can you please not call me 'Sunny Boy'? That's Ares' shtick. Also-”

“Whatever, Sunny Boy. Where is the fun in going home without a single scratch? Let's duke it out! But first tell me: why are you supporting the Trojans? Don't you remember how they treated us? When Zeus stripped us of our immortality for a year, we had to serve Laomedon for a pittance! I built this mighty wall around Troy, while you herded his cattle. And when the year was finally over, he denied us pay and threatened to bind us, cut our ears off and sell us off as slaves! And you're helping the Trojans, after all of this? Explain!”

But Apollon remained calm.

“Does it really matter? Let's leave the mortals to their devices. I don't want to fight you over them, uncle. You're way out of my league, it would be madness.”

But Artemis grabbed him by the shoulder, outraged. “So you're chickening out?! You just give up and let him win?! If so, then don't ever let us hear you brag, that you could take on Poseidon!”

But Apollon just arched an eyebrow. “I'm not 'chickening out'. I just know, when to quit – unlike someone I know.”

As if on cue, Hera confronted Artemis: “You little brat! If you have the spine to make me or Poseidon your enemy, you're dumber than I thought! I will show you, just how outclassed you really are!”

Then she seized the goddess of the hunt by both wrists with one hand, tore her quiver and arrows off her shoulder with the other and smacked the shit out of her with it. When Hera was done with her, Artemis was running back to Olympos crying, leaving her bow and arrows on the battlefield.

Hermes saw this and let his opponent Leto take the win. The Titanis of motherhood gratefully gathered up the weapons of her daughter from the floor and returned to Olympos to console her.

Apollon blinked after them. “What the Tartaros did just happen?”

Poseidon laughed heartily: “Just because my sister is the goddess of marriage doesn't mean she can't kick arse! Or where do you think Ares got his temper from?”

The Earthshaker looked to the sky and knew that Zeus was shaking with laughter.

.

On the battlefield Akhilleus was still massacring Trojans left and right.

The king Priamos saw this from the top of the wall and ordered for the gates to be opened, so his people could save themselves.

Apollon came onto the field through the gates and held his hand over them, while they scrambled to the sweet safety of their city. He took the shape of a Trojan Akhilleus had been about to kill and allowed to chase him across the field, away from the gates of Troy. That bought the Trojans the time they needed to escape the wrath of Thetis' son.

All of them, except for Hektor; he didn't make it in time, before the gates closed.

The greatest warrior of the Trojans was shut outside.

.

Book Twenty-Two:

.

Apollon led Akhilleus away from Troy, before finally turning around.

“Hey, arsehole! Guess who!” And dropped his disguise.

Then he proceeded to mock the raging demigod, who was out of breath after chasing him for kilometres: “While you ran after me like a moron, thinking that you stand a chance against me, the Trojans have barricaded themselves inside their city! They are out of your reach and you will never defeat me, Apollon!”

“You … you deceived me!”, Akhilleus gasped, “So is … the most lethal of the gods … the protector of Troy … otherwise I would have killed them all! But damn you! If it was in my power, I would give you payback!”

Apollon gritted his teeth: “But you can't, mortal.”

Akhilleus screamed in fury and dashed back to Troy with swift feet.

Hektor was waiting in front of the walls of Troy to challenge vengeful Akhilleus and face his imminent demise.

On top of the walls, his aged father was weeping over the cruelty of fate: that he would have to see his sons and many of his people die, his city sacked, his daughters ravaged, his grandchildren and himself murdered, his daughters-in-law sold into slavery.

But no matter how much Priamos beseeched him, Hektor didn't yield and stayed where he was, even though he was terrified. Yet as soon as he saw Akhilleus clearly, bloodthirsty and deranged like Ares himself, his flight instinct kicked in and he ran for his life. Only Apollon's assistance prevented the son of Thetis from catching up to Hektor.

.

While Akhilleus chased the slayer of Patroklos around the city walls three times in a row, the gods were watching from above.

Zeus shook his head. “I don't like seeing him being chased around his own city like that. And it's really a shame, that he should die already. He always honoured us gods beyond measure. Should I save this noble man or-”

“No!”, Athena protested at once, “His time is up, he must die! We can't randomly spare mortals, just because we favour them. Do whatever you want, but none of us will approve.”

“… Do what you must, but do it quickly.”

On Olympos, in the Room of Fate, the Scales of Fate weighed the lot of Hektor against Akhilleus.

That of Hektor sank, that of Akhilleus rose up.

.

Apollon, as the god of prophecy, sensed the shift and reluctantly left Hektor to face his doom.

Athena on the other hand joined the angry Akhilleus.

“Today the Achaeans will gain a most glorious victory! We shall slay Hektor! He is destined to die by our hands and not even Apollon's pleas to Zeus will save him now. Now hold up and catch your breath, while I persuade him to face you in battle.”

She caught up to Hektor in the shape of one of his brothers and did exactly that.

So the Trojan prince whirled around to face the son of Peleus.

They had a short dispute. Hektor entreated his opponent to agree, that the loser be returned to his people to receive a proper burial.

But Akhilleus refused: “FUCK YOUR PROPOSAL! YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DEATH OF PATROKLOS AND ALL OF MY FRIENDS WHOM YOU KILLED!!!”

“OH SHUT UP, ARSEHOLE! YOU AND YOUR COMRADES KILLED MOST OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS TOO! AND ONCE YOU TAKE OVER OUR CITY, YOU WILL RAVAGE IT, MASSACRE THE CIVILIANS, VIOLATE AND ENSLAVE OUR WOMEN AND KILL OUR CHILDREN!!! I AM DOING WHATEVER I CAN TO PROTECT THEM!!! YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME!!!”, Hektor roared in outrage.⁵

Then they threw their spears at each other.

Hektor dodged that of Akhilleus, but his own weapon flew far off, guided by Athena's hand. When he turned to whom he had thought to be his dear brother to ask for a new spear, but found him gone.

The Trojan prince realised, that he had been tricked by Athena and that the gods had decided his doom a long time ago.

“Well, fuck this shit”, he muttered, pulled his sword to face his last battle.

Their fight was short and brutal.

At long last, Akhilleus managed to stab him in the throat.

But he had narrowly missed the windpipe and so Hektor was able to rattle a few last words.

“If you have … an ounce of honour … return my corpse … to my parents … so I can be buried.”

“No.”

“Thought as much … but know this … you're – ugh! – angering the gods … you will die … by Apollon's and Paris' arrows …”

Then the greatest defender of Troy died.

For a while Akhilleus stood silently above him.

Then he finally replied to the dead man: “I know. And I don't care.”

And proceeded to outrage his vanquished enemy's corpse by tying it to his chariot and dragging it around his city several times.

While on the walls above, his grieving parents, his sorrow-stricken wife Andromákhe and the people of Troy were weeping to the Heavens.

.

Book Twenty-Three:

.

Akhilleus held funeral games for Patroklos and, after much more mourning, finally delivered him to the pyre.

Hektor's dishonoured corpse on the other hand he left to the dogs.

The dogs that would not go near it; the presence of the goddess Aphrodite, who guarded it night and day, kept them away. She and Apollon preserved his corpse, so that neither the scorching sun, nor being hauled around by Akhilleus could damage it.

The burned remains of Patroklos were put to rest in a golden urn – one that his ghost had asked Akhilleus to put them in and mix them with his own, once the son of Thetis would die.

.

Book Twenty-Four:

.

All the while Apollon had protected Hektor's corpse from being mutilated, while Akhilleus didn't stop treating it like that of a common criminal.

Day after day he and the other gods who were supporting Troy begged Zeus to send Hermes to steal away the body. And every time Poseidon, Hera and Athena had been against it, unyielding in their old grudges.

After a week, the god of light finally had enough.

“How much longer”, he confronted the other gods, “do you want to allow Akhilleus to abuse the body of Hektor in such a foul manner?! Does none of you have a heart?! Has he ever failed to give you the best possible sacrifices?! Instead of returned his body to his people to receive the funeral he deserves, you choose being butt-hurt about the stupidity of that wuss Paris and that's why you help that sociopath Akhilleus, who doesn't have an ounce of propriety, shame or even respect in his chest! Many others are mourning their loved ones and he acts like he's the only one! As honourable as his parents are, they failed to raise a decent human being!“

Hera jumped up and pointed a finger at him: “Stop going on about Hektor, like he has ever been Akhilleus' equal! One was only a full mortal, while the other is the son of Thetis, whom I raised and married to Peleus, who we all were fond of!”

“That doesn't change the fact, that Akhilleus is a fucking arsehole!”, Apollon snapped.

“Or that he wouldn't know honour, if it spat in his face!”, Artemis agreed.

“Or that he's a whiny mother's boy”, Ares added.

Hera flushed with rage. “How dare you!”, she exclaimed, “All of you have been at the wedding of his parents! You ate, drank, danced and made music-”

“So?”, Ares said coldly, “Akhilleus is not his parents. We are not obliged to him, nor to Thetis and Peleus and definitely not to you. Hektor respected us gods and other humans more than he does.”

Hera's eyes narrowed. “That's it! I will-”

“ENOUGH!!!”, Zeus thundered and everyone fell silent.

Angrily he turned to Hera: “I've had enough of your attitude! No one here is putting Hektor and Akhilleus on the same level! And all things considered, Hektor was beloved by us. He always knew what kind of sacrifices I and all of you wished for, never failed to honour us and only gave us the best of the best. Still, stealing the body is not an option either. Bring me Thetis. She shall persuade her son to give Hektor's body up to his father.”

After Thetis had been welcomed by the gods, Zeus cut to the chase: “Let your son know, that we're angered by his behaviour. He is to return the body of Hektor to the Trojans for ransom – this is my will. He knows what happens to mortals, who do not follow it.”

Thetis nodded and returned to her son to inform him of Zeus' decree.

.

Later that evening Iris descended to the earth again, this time to tell Priamos, that Zeus was doing him one last favour: the returning of his son's body.

So Priamos packed rich gifts as ransom and went, but not before making a sacrifice of Zeus and venting his bitterness about how the cruelty of Ares had robbed and would keep robbing him of his loved ones.

As Zeus saw the elderly man and his aged herald cross the bloodstained plain in the darkness, he was overcome by pity. He waved Hermes over and fondly ruffled the messenger's hair.

The second youngest Olympian endured it, as always.

“My beloved son, who holds mankind dearest, guides them and listens to them. Go and escort Priamos to the Achaean ships, but make sure that no one sees him, before he stands in front of the son of Peleus.”

Hermes put on his winged sandals and staff and landed on the coast near the ships in the guise of a young soldier from Akhilleus' troops. With his staff, he lulled the Achaeans to sleep, before going to find Priamos.

As he came into the king's field of view, he could tell that the old man was frightened.

But Hermes gently took the old man's hands and asked kindly: “Who are you, sir? What are you and your companion there doing out here in the middle of the night and with so much treasure? Don't you know how dangerous that is?”

“You're right, young man”, Priamos replied, “But one god must have at least some mercy with me. It must be a good omen, that we meet you here; I can see your wisdom as well as your beauty – you must have blessed parents.”

That I do, Hermes thought fondly, but kept his focus.

“That's true. But do answer my question. Are you trying to hide them, or are you all fleeing your city in panic, because you lost your best fighter – your son Hektor, the greatest of your warriors?”

Priamos tilted his head. “How do you know about my son? Who are you?”

“One of the soldiers of Akhilleus”, Hermes fibbed, “I often saw your son on the field of glory, even when we weren't allowed to fight, because our lord wouldn't let us.”

“Really!”, the king cried hopefully, “Tell me, what happened to my son's body? Is it still intact at the ships? Akhilleus didn't … he didn't … did he …?”

“It's still intact”, the Messenger soothed him. “Nothing of the outrage it suffered by Akhilleus could damage it – if it wasn't for the wounds, one could think he's sleeping! The gods care for him even in death.”

He couldn't help but feel horrible for the sorrow-stricken old man, who nearly burst into tears at these news and who really deserved better than all this woe.

Deciding to make it quick, before the mortal's suffering could get to him, Hermes guided Priamos to Akhilleus' tent.

Once there, he revealed himself: “Now I can tell you, that I am the god Hermes. My father sent me to guide and protect you. I must stay outside, because I don't want the trouble of being seen. But listen to me: when you go in there, clasp the knees of Peleus' son and beseech him in the name of his own dear parents, if you want him to hear you.”

.

Akhilleus gaped in amazement, as none other than Priamos came before him.

The long-suffering king of Troy fell onto his knees in front of his greatest enemy, clasping the knees and kissing the hands of the man, who had slain his children.

After reminding him of his father Peleus, who was waiting for his son to come home, Priamos ended his plea: “Fifty sons I had, before you Achaeans came and I got to keep none of them! Most were felled by cruel Ares. And the one son I could count on, the defender of my city and its inhabitants – oh Hektor, my child! – fell by your hand. I'm here to ransom him with rich gifts. Respect the gods and think of your father. Even more than him I have a right to your mercy, because I did what no other father in the world could ever bring himself to do: I kissed the hand of the man who murdered my son.”

The sight of this old man's infinite grief and the memory of his own father, who too would never see him again, did something to Akhilleus.

There was no more wrath in him, only sadness and grief.

That and something new.

Something he had never felt before: Compassion.

.

Hektor's body was ransomed and returned to his people.

Even on Olympos the gods could hear the crying of the Trojans for their prince.

The people, who mourned their greatest hero.

His parents, who lost their dearest son.

His remaining siblings, who lost the brother they had looked up to.

His widow, who hadn't been able to be at her husband's side, while he was dying.

Helena, who had been taken here against her will and was now mourning the only man besides Priamos, who had treated her with kindness, the only friend she'd had here.

The Trojans keened and bewailed Hektor for ten days.

On the eleventh day he was brought to the pyre.

The smoke rose high and with it carried prayers and weeping.

.

---

.

1) Naiades: river nymphs; Dryades: tree nymphs.

2) Astrapaios: "Lord of Lightning", one of Zeus' epithets.

3) Ennosigaios: "Shaker of the Earth", one of Poseidon's epithets.

4) The surface of the sun is appr. 5000°C hot.

5) In the Iliad Hektor doesn't actually respond to Akhilleus' refusal like that, but I thought that this was important to point out.

#Greek Mythology #zeus #hera #ares #athena #poseidon #apollon #artemis #leto #dionysos #hebe #hades #thetis #hephaistos #xanthos #hermes #achilles #agamemnon #odysseus #helen of sparta #hector #andromache #priamos #lots of trojans who really deserved better #achilles is a dick #paris is a little shit #the gods are also little shits #divine bitch fighting #zeus just wants more popcorn #priamos needs a hug

[rosecolouredash]

Querencia CH. 4

Previous Chapters// PROLOGUE ONE TWO THREE

Summary: A prince and his sword encounters a white mage.

Warnings: Mentions of (magical) violence

Notes: I’ve been on a writing roll, lately. Thank you to everyone who’s still with me on this. It helps a lot. Also just for fun, I created this lil character board for Cecile, Remy, Rome & Dionne. Expect the rest of the OC’s to have one too because these are really fun to make.

—

CHAPTER FOUR

After receiving helpful information from a river Naiad named Cecile, Prince Calum and the Royal Liberation Army venture into the city of Ardglas. They look for the ‘boy with a golden halo’ and the ‘girl with a heart on her sleeve’ to heal Sir Ashton of his burns from the witch Estelle’s magick. When they cross the border, from forest to civilization, they are confronted with a civil war between the governing forces of Ardglas—two mages named Delara and Luke.

As the Royal Army rushed towards the flames and commotion, the bandit, Michael asked his companions, “Who the hell are Lady Delara and Lord Luke?”

To the prince’s dismay, the knight, Ashton—though injured—insisted he help in the possible fight. Now atop his galloping mare, Peggy, he recited to the group what he knew of the mages of Ardglas. 

The city was home to a number of magick users and creatures—being one of Saere’s most mystical and diverse populations. Founded by the patron of all mages, it was decreed long ago that his ancestors would care for the land. In the current century, two mages were given dual responsibility to govern—Delara, a black mage of the house of Sutton, oversaw the Northern parts of the city while as Luke, a white mage and a member of the house of Hemmings, reigned in the South of Ardglas.     

“To my knowledge, the two mages are also distant cousins,” Ashton finished with grimace. He and the twin knights, Remy and Rome, paved the way for the army—passing along burning buildings and destroyed cobblestone roads.

Michael scoffed from the wagon—pulled by the twins and their stallions—that he, Calum and his bandit family occupied. Dionne flew above them on her beloved gryphon, Arnie. 

“A civil war and a family affair? This situation just keeps getting better and better.”

When they drew near, the screams of Ardglasians and combat were all to be heard. It was pure chaos—magick and weapons being used throughout the area. The Royal Army, not on horse or gryphon, jumped from the wagon and successfully rounded up the scared civilians. 

“Remy, Rome. Please bring these people to safety.” Calum nodded to the two young knights. With a salute, they veered back—opposite the mayhem of battle—with a wagon full of people, grateful for the help. 

From the sky, Dionne and Arnie suddenly let out a cry. “Incoming!”

The remaining group on land was able to disperse when a large fireball enveloped the place wherein they previously stood. 

“Everyone all right?” The bandits responded to their leader’s inquiry as he went to stand by Calum. They stared at the scorched ground. “Well, that was close.”

The prince frowned. He looked up to gaze at the ongoing war. “Why are the two magick houses at war? What could have happened?”

The king of the wastelands gave a shrug of his shoulders. Before he could fathom a response, another scream ripped through the air.

“Another one!” 

Calum had no time to react when he was forcefully pushed away—his back skidding against the ground.

“Michael, no!” The royal watched wide-eyed as another fireball fell fast towards the bandit.

Even the magick of Zephir could not help his friend—the speed of the flame just too violent, too quick.

All Michael could feel around him was heat. Unbearable heat. The kind where it made it difficult to breathe. A shadow obscured his vision as he awaited his untimely demise. After a second, the bandit shut his eyes and then felt nothing.

—

“Don’t be so careless.” 

The bandit blinked his eyes open, in surprise. He was alive. 

Furthermore, he did not recognize that voice. 

The blond in front of him, calmly stood—his collared white dress shirt dirtied and charred. The stranger had one arm outstretched, the lace trim of his sleeve partially covering his palm halfway. The other hand held a glowing staff.

The young man took one look at the fireball, now unmoving, mid-air. It then exploded into hundreds of smaller flames—all harmless while dissipating into smoke.

“Boss! You ok?” Michael was then surrounded by his bandits—who helped him up—as well as Dionne, who had flown down to earth, in absolute worry.

“Y-Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks to this guy.” 

Both Calum and Ashton, after dismounting from Peggy, joined the group—also looking over Michael to be sure he was not hurt. The prince then stepped forward to address the bandit’s saviour. “Thank you for protecting my friend.” 

The blond turned towards the Royal Army, his stare piercing and blue. “You lot helped my people. It’s the least I can do.” 

Ashton then squinted at him, in recognition. “Luke Hemmings? Leader of the Morning Doves and the southern plains of Ardglas?”

The renowned mage gave them a charming smile. “The one and only.”

As war raged on around them, Luke commanded his team of white mages to continue their valiant efforts. Though their struggle was apparent, they abided by their leader’s wishes—holding off the enemy and protecting him and the Royal Army from anymore wayward spells thrown their way.

In need of answers, Calum went to speak again when he was interrupted by the blond.

“Not here. Let’s go to my place and talk.”

—

“It was an ambush.”

The Royal Liberation Army stood with Luke in the large foyer of his heavily guarded manor. The white mage was aware of who Calum and Ashton were—the embroidery on the prince’s coat and the red ensigns that littered the knight’s silver armour being a dead giveaway. He was pleasantly surprised to meet their allies in the bandits; Michael, the acclaimed king of the Veodian wastelands that he saved from fire and Dionne, the sole gryphon rider Luke has ever met.

“Delara can be a brat but she’s not a violent person.” Luke grimaced at the thought. He and his cousin never had an issue in governing the city. They did so equally and peacefully. He was at a loss when news of the mages of her domain began their attack that morning.

“I know they’re from the Midnight Crows but—”

The Royal Army could see the apprehension in his face. Luke hid it well but he was certainly distraught over the entire situation. “—I think someone else is making them do this.”

At the comment, Calum made subtle eye contact with some of his allies. “Do you think—”

“That it’s the Easentian Army? It’s quite possible.” Ashton crossed his arms—a pensive look on his face. “I wouldn’t put it past them to wreak havoc around Saere.”

Before they could ponder more on the thought, one of Luke’s mages came rushing into the room, something in their hands.

“My Lord, it’s ready.”

The leader of the White Doves was presented with a gold circlet, its thick band encrusted with what looked like diamonds. The Royal Army stared in awe at the accessory as Luke explained that the jewels were actually crystalized water from the mystical lake, Galatea. A while back, the mage had discovered that the solid matter of lakewater carried a high concentration of magick—a single crystal being able to amplify the powers of even a child mage. Many times over.

“White mages are known primarily for their healing magick. For black mages, it’s offensive spells—like the fireball that almost fried the bandit to a crisp.” He finished, with a teasing grin. Michael let out a mock laugh. 

“The crystals will help us stand a fighting chance but so far, we only have enough for this single headpiece.”

Luke went to place the circlet on his head when Calum had a realization.

“The boy with a golden halo.”

The mage expressed confusion at the comment. The prince then explained their being in Ardglas, in the first place, with the help of a river Naiad and the need of a healer for Ashton. At the mention of his name, the knight—with some difficulty—removed the breastplate of his armoured suit. He pulled up his undershirt to reveal his injuries. The burns had gotten worse, most likely due to their activity. After a quick inspection, Luke frowned. These were not ordinary burns. “Dela is better versed in magical wounds like this. I’d need her help to treat him.”

Calum gave a nod of his head. “Then it’s decided. We pay her a visit while getting to the bottom of this all.”

—

After some strategic planning, the Royal Army, Luke and a handful of his mages, set off for the domain of the Midnight Crows. Before leaving, the head mage turned towards the knight who was adjusting his saddle on the white mare. “You should stay behind, Ashton.”

At being addressed, Ashton regarded the blond in bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

The mage held his ground. “I don’t know much about your kind of injury but I know enough that if you join us it can—no, it will get worse.”

Overhearing their conversation, Calum stepped forward. “Ash—are you in pain?”

The knight regarded his prince, his best friend, with a sense of desperation in his eyes. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He then let out a breath, “Calum, you need me.”

“What I need is for you to be ok.”

Ashton did not know how to respond so Calum continued. “I’m not asking as your best friend. I’m telling you as your prince that you’re not leaving Luke’s place to fight.”   

Not one to disobey a royal order, Ashton backed down—though begrudgingly. 

Michael and Dionne watched on as it all transpired. The bandit king then spoke to his oldest friend. “Di, you should stay behind with Ashton.”

The group turned towards the two when Dionne let out a rather loud scoff. “Are you kidding me? I’m one of your best fighters! Like hell I’m staying here with the royal knight.”

Michael then made the argument. “Exactly, you’re my best fighter. If Delara’s mages somehow get to Luke’s while we’re away, Ash is done for. He’s gonna need backup.”

Dionne hated to admit it but her friend was right. He was always thinking of others which made him such a good leader. Of course he would be concerned with leaving behind his new—and injured—friend unprotected.

When the group finally made their way, Calum looked back towards Luke’s home. 

Ashton stood with Dionne, the girl’s arms crossed and a small scowl on her face—the white mare and gryphon standing alongside their respective riders. 

The prince’s eyes met with the knight’s as Ashton raised a hand to gesture a number of things. A ‘goodbye’ yet ‘see you soon.’ A ‘fight fierce’ but ‘return safe and unharmed.’

Calum then faced forward while speaking to Michael who was right next to him. “I hope we did the right thing.” 

—

A soldier pushed open a set of giant wooden doors. “General, the white mage, Luke, has come with reinforcements!” He spoke between pants.

The large man glanced out of the stained glass window of the manor to see a group of individuals beginning to storm the entry gates. One of them, in particular, caught his eye.

“Well, if it isn’t the prince and his sad excuse of an army.” He let out a maniacal laugh. “Emperor Lorian will be pleased to hear that we’ve found them.”

He turned away from the glass to speak with another figure in the room.

“Looks like your cousin is trying to play hero, huh Dela?”

He received no response from the brunette woman crumpled on the floor. Her once navy blue dress was now stained with darkened spots from the blood that seeped through her wounds. Where her left sleeve was ripped open, a peculiar birthmark was made apparent.

In the shape of a heart.

—

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @americanhorrorstudies @lovableah @cals-eyebrows @quintodosuniversos

#ro writes #fantasy!5sos #fantasy!au #5 seconds of summer #5sos #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fanfic

[purple-people-eaters-productions]

Wip third book main character information sheet

Adeena is Fiametta’s mom, was married to elder brother of the twins who quarreled over throne and had a super shady deal that occurred and settled things between them after an extremely bloody and violent war of information that occurred within the palace walls. Shortly after this the younger twin was assinated by his closest advisor, and cousin, because he was seen as too soft and spoilt to rule. Katalin is actually the daughter of that younger prince, but has been raised as the daughter of that cousin/advisor because she is technically the most legitimate heir to the throne. Leaving the current emperor as more of a regent than a true ruler. Although he might try to hold on to power as although he wants what is best for the people he is very power hungry.

The elder twin was far more of a demanding and strong presence although he would dote on his siblings with everything in his being. He was fire incarnate, although he took on the more active aspects of fire than the hearth like qualities. Throne was technically his right, but his spoiling of his younger twin led him to believe that he should be the one in charge and jealousy spurred him into causing his elder twin. Saying that his fire like nature was far more likely to cause problems then his more nature inclined powers. The rift deepening when the elder twin married a Phoenix spirit who many believed to simply be a volcanic spirit due to her place of birth. Leading many to begin to put stock into the younger’s words. Especially after he began building a harem of nymphs and naiads, believing his ability to court so many spirits of nature due to an inherent goodness in him.

The younger twin, Jaxith, who had become Emperor of Hollis was assinated soon after attempting to cause the death of his elder twin- current ruler of Ingemar. Ironically, he attempted to do so through means of fire. Only he did it by using hellfire, a fire that only those who practiced the art of necromancy could control fully unless one had an especially powerful connection to the element of fire itself. Leading to the death of High King Vitalis as he sacrificed himself to the fire to protect his people. But at that moment, most importantly, his wife who was currently pregnant with their youngest child Kenna.

(Ingemar)

High (title) is the title given to the ruler whose seat it is by inheritance and their spouse’s title would be title without high in front. Next in line for throne is given title Crown Prince for next in line male. And Crown Princess for next in line female. Heir apparent decided between the two by whichever the spirits of the land deem most fit. Next in line after that is called prince or princess. Would typically be second eldest daughter and son. In the event of a third of fourth child their titles would be Grand Duke/Duchess.

Fiametta the second child of her mother, second in line to the throne after her elder sister Crown Princess Maven, and before her twin brother Crown Prince Solomon and younger sister Grand Ducchess Kenna.

(Hollis)

Ruler is called Emperor or Empress, children by primary wife are given title state prince/princess. Children by concubines title depend on level of favor within harem and with the empress, the primary wife. The highest ranking are titled Prince and Princess, while the lowest ranking are titled Ladies and Lords. Those who prove themselves being given the title of a duke or duchess and more power. Illigentimate children are often shoved into roles of service when discovered and never told of their heritage. Heir apparent is decided by whichever child by the primary wife the current ruler favors most heavily. Hence Katalin, being the eldest and only child of the primary wife by her father is technically the ruler alrhough is called state princess to protect the secret from those who do not know the truth. As upon her father’s death the advisor assumed is harem and primary wife as his own and played the charade of being the king by veiling himself heavily and refusing to be seen in public by spinning the yarn of great damage being dealt to him by the death of his twin. Which had weakened Jaxith before his murder.

Katalin is the first child of her father and his Empress, the “most important” wife. The one that provides heirs and runs the household- making her first in line for the throne. She has a five elder brothers and two elder sisters by her father’s concubines/consorts- most of whom have no desire for the throne and have either devoted themselves to the arts or the battlefield. Except for the eldest daughter of the lot, her father’s first, and only illegitimate child Lila, the daughter of a village prostitute who grew up not knowing who her father truly was in the kingdom of Ingemar. Will probably try to become part of the royal family at some point because she looks eerily similar to father only to topple them as there is no love lost there. Many of her siblings became personal guards for her and her full younger siblings. Two little girls and a baby boy. Whom I do not have the names of yet.

[a-deed-without-a-name]

Home is Where the Heart is Ch. 29

"What?" Dean squinted at Sam, not quite sure what he'd growled out through what sounded like a mouthful of pea gravel. He thought it might've been something like "nyad" or "naiad," whatever the hell that was. Dean stuck a pinkie finger in one of his ears and realized that the problem might be on his end. His ear canal was full of gritty mud. Not surprising - all his other holes were full of that, too.

Read more

#supernatural #fanfiction #wincest #weecest #angst #romance #previous relationship #au #john finds out #s1 #season one #demon #possession #possessed!sam #dean pov #dean winchester #sam winchester #samxdean #sam/dean #ao3 #oc #multichapter #chapter twenty-nine #home is where the heart is

[rosecolouredash]

Querencia CH. 3

Previous Chapters // PROLOGUE ONE TWO

Summary: A prince and his sword (re)meets a spirit.

Warnings: For once, not much. Just insinuated violence.

Notes: Very much so a filler chapter but there are a couple of lil tidbits that will come up again in the future...take that as you will.

—

CHAPTER THREE

After their rendezvous with Sir Ashton Irwin, Head Knight of the Third Cavalry of Saere and childhood best friend of the prince, Calum decreed that together with his remaining unit, Michael and his bandits, they form the Royal Liberation Army. Their feeling of victory against the witch Estelle’s troops is short-lived when Ashton’s injuries take a toll on his health. The Royal Army travel to the nearest city of Ardglas, on the lakeside of Galatea—a body of water believed to contain magical properties. Though far northeast from their destination of the capital of Waiburne, the royal will stop at nothing to help his best friend.

“Calum, we are losing precious time.”

Ashton let out a series of grunts as the wagon hit a few rocks on the trail. 

The prince looked back down to the knight from his seat atop Peggy, the white mare, who pulled along her injured rider. Not a day into their journey, after meeting up with Ashton and the twin knights Remy and Rome Abal, the leader of the Third Cavalry of Saere succumbed to his injuries from battle. Fortunately, a few of Michael’s men were versed in woodworking. They built a makeshift wagon, with the material available to them from the nearby forests, for the knight to rest on as they traveled. After the discussion of a re-route and Dionne’s expert scouting abilities, the Royal Liberation Army diverted their sights northeast, towards the lakeside city of Ardglas.

“It is better we have you in good health than not at all, Ash.”

The royal knight let out a groan in annoyance since he knew there was truth in what his prince said.

Michael snickered at the two as they continued to argue back and forth. He walked alongside the wagon, enjoying the dynamic between the prince and the leader of the third cavalry. Though Calum had opened up to Michael and his family of bandits considerably from when they first met, the prince stayed quite reserved. It was not until being joined by Ashton that the royal finally broke out of his shell, allowing his smile and infectious laughter to fill the group as they journeyed onward.

“At this rate, we won’t arrive to the city until sundown, Your Highness.” Remy looked towards the sky. He could only assume the time by the location of the sun. It was roughly high noon and the twin knights had yet to leave their captain’s side as they trotted with their stallions beside the wagon, opposite to Michael, in worry. In losing the rest of their unit, the twins feared the same for their leader more so because Sir Ashton was the closest thing to a father figure that the young boys had.

When the prince and his knight broke from their conversation at the comment, Calum noticed how laboured Ashton’s breaths had become. He knew how exhausted his best friend must be and it did not help that the burns from the witch Estelle’s magick were not healing properly, if at all. 

When Dionne had mentioned that she saw the city of Ardglas when she flew ahead to scout, Calum remembered an old tale his mother used to recite to him—how the waters of Galatea, the lake of which the city was built alongside, was believed to be enchanted. Regardless of the truth to the fable, Ardglas became the capital for magical beings. There had to be at least one individual who could heal his best friend.

The prince stared ahead with much resolve in his heart. “Let us make haste, then.”   

—

As expected, it was sundown when the Royal Army made it to the borders of Ardglas. Calum knew his companions were weary from travel and although he wanted to make it into the city to find help for Ashton, he decided that for most everyone’s benefit that they make camp for the night. 

It was dusk when they finally settled in a wooded area they deemed safe—hidden amongst the dense forestry. A number of the bandits were already fast asleep on the ground. The gyphon, Arnie, was curled around his rider while as Dionne gently slept, her face nestled in the feathers of his wing. The Abal twins were also ready to succumb to sleep—their horses, as well as Peggy, rested upright beside the tree that they decided to sit up against. Ashton still lay awake in the makeshift wagon with Calum and Michael at his feet. They sat so that their legs hung out from the edge. The three held a quiet conversation while the two at the foot of the wagon watched the embers of the fire, at the center of the group, spark and burn.

“So we get into the city at dawn—”

Michael scoffed. “Dawn? I’m not sure even half my men will be awake at that ungodly hour. Myself included.”

The knight giggled at the bandit’s honesty. There was something endearing about the so-called King of the Wastelands. Ashton could only thank the gods for bringing him to Calum when he, himself, was not able to be there for his prince. Calum waved off the bandit in a joking manner and then laughed when Michael reciprocated with a flip of a bird.

“Peace, Bandit. Watch how you gesture to our Prince.” Ashton could not keep a straight face and joined in on their laughter even before finishing his sentence.

It was at this moment that their worries seemed to fade away.

They were not an ousted prince, a leader of unruly bandits and the head of an almost decimated unit of knights. They were simply Calum, Michael and Ashton—enjoying one another’s banter and company. It was well into the night by the time the three young men decided to join their group in the land of sleep. Calum hopped down from the wagon—both Michael and Ashton raising a brow at the prince.

“I’m just going to wash up.” He nodded at them, in reassurance, as he disappeared into the trees.

—

On the way to their campsite, he noticed the stream that ran along the cover of trees where they decided to rest for the night. 

Calum knelt by the body of water, staring at his own reflection that was visible by moonlight. It was an odd comfort, for him, to do something as menial as wash his face. It was likely due to the harsh conditions they faced as they journeyed to his homeland. When he splashed his face with the freshwater from the stream—the sound of a second splash caught the young prince by surprise. Calum dropped his hands from his cheeks and surveyed the area to find nothing out of the ordinary. 

Water dripped from his chin as he made no sudden movements.

The warm south wind made the foliage of the trees rustle. The water of the brook gently ebbed and flowed. The surrounding nature was scenic. Or so it seemed.

Calum then stood from his place by the stream. “Is someone there?”

He exhaled slowly, placing a light hand on the hilt of Zephir, in precaution.

Another splash and he whipped his head towards the noise. 

At the edge of the creek, there rested a figure—their arms on the edge of where land met water. Silvery locks pooled to their hips, or so Calum imagined, since their body was obscured by rock and stream. The prince took a step forward when the stranger beckoned him closer—their hand small and fine-boned. “Hello, your Majesty.”

Their voice was gentle and low. 

Another step. “Who—”

“My apologies,” compared to their voice, their laugh was light, like the chime of bells. “This is rather informal of me.”

They smiled faintly at the bewildered Prince. “I promise, I mean no harm to his Royal Highness.”

Once Calum drew near, he was mesmerized by the unnatural colour of their eyes. They were rather pretty—reminding him of polished opals. At the thought, an old memory flashed through his mind. The Prince blinked. Had he met them before?

As if they read his mind, they spoke again. “If I seem familiar, it is rightly so. You were sixteen the last I saw you and I...well, a Naiad never tells.” 

The Hood bloodline was believed to be descended from the gods—a river deity to be exact. The royal family of Saere had always had great relations with the spirits and magical beings of their country, most especially those that presided over bodies of water.

“The winds whispered to me of your journey to Ardglas.”

Calum nodded. He went on to explain his need of a healer for his knight. As he retold his misadventures, from the coup at Waiburne to the witch almost fatally wounding his best friend, the Naiad gazed on with a knowing look in their eyes. “Do not fret, Prince Calum of Saere,” they whispered, a small frown on their face from hearing about the young royal’s ill fortune. 

He paused in inquiry and they continued, “when you head into Ardglas, look for the boy with a golden halo and the girl with a heart on her sleeve. They’ll be able to heal your friend.”

There was no way to explain it but he trusted their words. Breathing a sigh of relief, he smiled at them. “Thank you for the information—”

“Cecile. My name is Cecile.” They bowed their head low, in respect to his status. “May our paths cross again, young Prince, with you in a better place.”

Calum parted with the Naiad—bidding them goodnight and farewell.  

By the time he rejoined the Royal Army at camp, Michael was already asleep in the wagon—gentle snores escaping his lips. Ashton was still awake, not able to sleep until Calum returned. Upon seeing the Prince he tried to sit up more but winced from his injuries. The prince rushed over to recount to the knight his encounter with the river Naiad but not before reprimanding his best friend for hurting himself further. 

—

Back at the creek, the silver-haired Naiad gazed upon the area that the Prince disappeared to. 

“Good tidings to you and your companions on the difficult journey ahead.”  

—

It was dawn when the Royal Army made their way into the city. Michael let out a giant yawn while rubbing the sleep from his right eye. “So you’re going to take the word of a mermaid to look for some golden boy and the queen of hearts to heal, Ashton?”

For the umpteenth time, Calum explained that Cecile was not a mermaid, rather a spirit that presided over the river of the forest. He knew he must have sounded strange but the prince felt he could trust the Naiad’s information and so they reached the city as soon as they could to find the two individuals they described. Still confused, Michael was about to question more when a tremendous sound boomed in the air. 

Flames then erupted in the distance. 

The Royal Army readied themselves and their weapons when a group of citizens came rushing through. Calum caught their attention to ask what was going on. Out of breath, one man gasped out, “Lady Delara, the scion of the black mages has invaded the white mage, Lord Luke’s, domain.” 

After thanking them, the prince sent them away to find somewhere safe to stay. 

Michael looked over their group, a frown on his face. “Great, we just walked into a civil war.”

—

Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @lilbabycalum @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @americanhorrorstudies @lovableah @cals-eyebrows @quintodosuniversos

#ro writes #fantasy!5sos #fantasy!au #5 seconds of summer #5sos #calum hood #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fanfic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic