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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 3 years

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Dead Poets Society: The Story

Dead Poets Society opens in a pretty traditional way: with the first day of school.

It’s the beginning of a fresh school year for transfer student Todd Anderson (Ethan Hawke), new, shy kid on the block at Welton Academy, a prestigious prep-school for boys, located in Vermont. At the opening ceremony, older recruits march through a church, down the aisles full of other students, carrying banners that display the words: Tradition, Discipline, Honor, and Excellence. New students light candles, and, most importantly, headmaster Nolan takes to the podium to welcome the new students, and shy, quiet Todd Anderson sits in the pew, looking nervous as Headmaster Nolan begins his speech, discussing the four Pillars of the school, the prestigious nature of the establishment, and introducing the new English teacher: John Keating (Robin Williams).

The panel of teachers, sitting behind Nolan, is notably older and grayer than Keating, who, while not a terribly young man, is considerably more lively and animated than his new colleagues. This will be important later, but not right now. (Spoilers below!)

After the ceremony, the courtyard in front of the school is full of parents saying goodbye to their sons. It is here that we learn something interesting about Todd: he has, as Nolan puts it, “big shoes to fill” . As it turns out, Todd’s older brother was a student here, and a pretty good one. Even more nervous, Todd files out of the courtyard with the rest of the students, where we meet Todd’s to-be roomate: Neil Perry (Robert Sean Leonard).

Neil Perry seems to be Todd’s complete opposite in personality. He’s confident, and out-going, and is expected by Nolan to be doing ‘great things’ this year. He takes Todd up to their dorm room, and there, Todd meets Neil’s friends: Knox Overstreet (Josh Charles), Richard Cameron (Dylan Kussman), Stephen Meeks (Allelon Ruggiero), Gerard Pitts (James Waterson), and Charlie Dalton (Gale Hansen). The boys get comfortable in Neil and Todd’s room, teasing Neil for being made to take chemistry courses over the summer. The laid-back nature of the introductions is cut short, however, by a knock at the door.

It’s Neil Perry’s father (Kurtwood Smith).

Mr. Perry tells Neil that he has spoken to Mr. Nolan, and has cut all of Neil’s extra-curricular activities for the year, including the school yearbook, as he doesn’t want Neil distracted from the end-goal of medical school. Neil tries to argue, but is quickly shot down.

After Mr. Perry leaves, the other boys encourage Neil to stand up to his father, but he refuses, resigned to doing what he’s told. The other boys leave, inviting Todd to join them for a Latin study group the next day.

The next day, on the first true day of classes, the boys pass through lesson after lesson, taught by wizened, distinguished men who bore their students to tears.

And then comes English class.

Mr. Keating enters the room, passes his entire classroom, and heads for the opposite door, telling his class to follow him. Confused, the class obeys.

Keating takes them out to the hallway, encouraging them to look at the case full of pictures of Welham alumnus, and tells them that those who first attended Welton, explaining that these people who were once young, are now old, or even dead.

“Carpe diem, seize the day. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”

He also recites to them some poetry:

“O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.”

After class, Cameron remarks that Keating seems rather odd, but the rest of the boys seem to like him, or at least, find him interesting. While the boys hit the showers, Knox reveals that he has to attend a dinner at the Danburys’ (whoever they are, more on that later) explaining that he can’t meet to study with them tonight. The boys pick on him a little and then invite Todd, who doesn’t seem to be on board for the plan.

That night, the boys meet to study, and Knox comes in late, elated. See, he’s met the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen: Chris. The bad news is that she’s engaged to a guy named Chet, but that doesn’t seem to deter Knox that much. He remains completely smitten.

The next day, Keating’s class remains as unconventional as the day before. This is no course where the first class is fun and then it’s down to business the next day: Keating seems to mean business about seizing the day.

He opens class by requesting that Cameron reads the first page of the introduction of their poetry book, an introduction about how to rate a poem’s ‘greatness score’. As he reads, Keating writes on the board, allowing him to reach the end of the page before telling Cameron, and the rest of the class, to rip out the introduction.

At first, the class hesitates, but after a moment, many of the students gleefully obey. As they tear out the pages, another teacher, Mr. McAllister stops to investigate. Keating explains that he is teaching the boys to think for themselves, to enjoy the use of language and the power of words.

“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”

The boys contemplate this as Keating adds:

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”

At dinner, McAllister sits next to Keating and chastises him warningly about his choice to educate the boys to think for themselves, encouraging them to be creative.

“Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams and I’ll show you a happy man,” McAllister quotes.

Keating smiles and replies with a verse of his own: “But only in their dreams can men be truly free. ‘Twas always thus, and always thus will be.”

At their own table, the boys unearth an old yearbook, searching for Mr. Keating’s page. They learn that he was involved in a group called the ‘Dead Poets Society’.

Curiosity piqued, the boys ask Keating about the Dead Poets Society after dinner. Keating explains that it was a secret society, inspired by the words of Henry David Thoreau to ‘suck the marrow out of life’. This group would gather in a nearby cave and read poetry aloud, and write some of their own.

Neil suggests to the rest of the boys in private that they should revive the Dead Poets Society and meet that night. In his room, he finds a book called Five Centuries of Verse, with an inscription from Keating: the opening to every Dead Poets Society meeting.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”

That night, the boys all sneak out of the school and meet in the caves. Neil begins the meeting, reading the opening, and then the group takes turns reading poems and talking, getting progressively more spirited. After a while, they conclude, heading back to the school and singing.

The next day, in English class, Mr. Keating shows the boys how to read Shakespeare: not dull and stuffy, but full of life, (doing impressions of Marlon Brando and John Wayne to illustrate) and then does something even stranger.

Keating climbs onto his desk and asks the class why he does this. Charlie suggests that it is to feel taller.

“No! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.”

With that, Keating encourages his class, one at a time, to stand on his desk, looking at the room from a different perspective. As class comes to a close, Keating announces that the boys are to write, and then read aloud, their own poems, privately telling Todd that he is quite aware how much this assignment must scare him.

In his room, Todd attempts to write a poem as Neil bursts in, full of excitement. He has discovered a flier for a community play of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and intends to try out, realizing that he wants to be an actor. He says:

“For the first time in my whole life, I know what I wanna do! And for the first time, I’m gonna do it! Whether my father wants me to or not! Carpe diem!”

The next class, Keating takes the boys out to the field, handing them each a line of poetry. He begins an exercise where each boy must read aloud the line before running up and kicking a ball, one after another, while he plays classical music. Directly after, Neil blazes through the dorm, shouting that he’s secured the part in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, his enthusiasm undaunted by the fact that his father will never write the approval letter necessary. He forges the necessary letter from his father for the theater and the school principal as Todd looks on.

It is the next English class, and it is time to read the poems from the class. Knox, who has ridden his bike to Chris’s school to watch her at least once, reads aloud a poem dedicated to her. Other students read, and finally, it comes time for Todd’s turn.

Todd, as it turns out, hasn’t written a poem.

Undaunted, Keating brings Todd to the front of the class, covering his eyes and encouraging him, helping him create a poem on the spot. Todd’s spontaneous poem brings the class to applause, and Mr. Keating moves the class outside for some more ‘poetry in motion’.

At this point in the story, we’ve got a lot of information about quite a few characters.

Protagonists Todd and Neil, originally apparently the opposites of one another, are similar in pressures from home: Todd to be like his older brother, and Neil to follow the carefully laid plan that his father has set out for him. Neil is already moving outside of that plan, pursuing acting, and Todd, with some encouragement, manages to come up with an intense poem in front of an entire class, despite his shyness.

Even the other boys in the group have unique characterization: Charlie, the anything-for-a-joke class clown, Knox, the hopeless romantic, and Cameron, the reluctant tag-along. (Meeks and Pitts are there too, but they have far less screen time and personality than the rest of the DPS.) We as an audience are watching their growth and personal arcs after the catalyst that is John Keating.

Oddly enough, Keating is the main character that we spend the least amount of time with, and know the least about. We don’t know a lot about his home life, or what his background is, or what his thoughts are. All we see is his direct influence on the boys at the school, and his unintentional inspiration to restart the Dead Poets Society.

Speaking of which:

At the next Dead Poets Society meeting, Knox seems uneasy, announcing that he’s going to kill himself if he can’t be with Chris, and leaves the meeting to call her. The boys follow, cheering him on, as he makes the call, hanging up at first, before working up his nerve (Carpe Diem) to call her again. Chris invites Knox to a party, saying she was thinking about calling him, and elated, Knox accepts the invitation.

The next night is the night of the party. Knox heads off to the Danbury house, where he’s swallowed up by a rowdy crowd of teenagers. Soon enough, Knox (and everybody else) is at varying levels of intoxicated. Inhibitions loosened, Knox kisses the forehead of a passed-out Chris, enraging her boyfriend and starting a fight, ending the party abruptly.

Meanwhile, Todd is given the exact same birthday present as last year: a desk set that he didn’t even like, yet another sign of his parents not really paying attention to him. Neil, noticing Todd’s disappointment, cheers him up, throwing the desk set off the roof, before taking him to another Dead Poets Society Meeting, where Charlie (now insisting on being called Nuwanda) has brought girls in to impress them with poetry.

Charlie also announces that he published an article in the school newspaper demanding that girls be admitted to Welton, signing it the Dead Poets Society. The rest of the group is justifiably angry, afraid that this will put the school’s administration onto them.

Sure enough, at an assembly, Headmaster Nolan demands to know which of the students was responsible for the article. At first, none of the students come clean, until a phone rings.

Charlie picks it up, and announces that it’s from God, saying they should admit girls to Welton.

This prank inevitably ends with Charlie getting paddled in the Headmaster’s office (1959, remember?) and threatened with expulsion. Nolan wants the names of the other members of the Dead Poets Society, but Charlie won’t tell.

After dismissing Charlie, Nolan calls Keating in, questioning him about his teaching methods. Keating explains that he’s trying to teach the boys individualism.

“I always thought the idea of education was to learn to think for yourself.”

“At these boys’ age? Not on your life!”

Afterwards, Keating approaches the boys, specifically Charlie, and gently scolds him for his stunt.

“There’s a time for daring and there’s a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for,” he says, explaining that being stupid is not the same as being an individual.

This is a common theme of the entire story, actually. As much as Keating encourages free-thinking and exploration of ideas, he knows the difference between bucking authority for the sake of it versus nonconformity. Each of the boys is exploring this aspect in their own way, from Todd’s slow-growing confidence to Neil’s direct disobedience of his father’s oppressive plan to Charlie’s defiance, even to Cameron’s caution against ‘disobeying rules’. Dead Poets Society is a story about encouraging people to think for themselves, but to be wise about what they do once they start, and while some are more obvious than others (Charlie’s foolishness and Knox’s overzealousness contrasted with Cameron’s blind following of ‘the rules’, all portrayed as kind of problematic), some examples are more ambiguous.

Such is the case with Neil.

After a rehearsal for the play, Neil comes back to his dorm to find his father, very displeased with him. He’s incredibly angry about Neil joining the play, and instructs him to quit the play the next morning, the same day as the first performance. Upset, Neil goes to Mr. Keating’s office to ask him for advice.

Keating listens to him, and suggests trying to talk to his father, for Neil to show him how passionate he is about acting so that he will allow him to do the play, encouraging him to come to his father earnestly before the play.

On a slightly lighter note, Knox enters Chris’s high school and follows her to class with flowers, trying to apologize for the previous night. She’s understandably embarrassed and tells him that her boyfriend, Chet, is still upset with Knox and is out to get him. Undeterred, Knox follows her into class and reads a poem about Chris aloud, in front of all of her classmates.

Remember what I said about ‘wise’ ways to deal with free thinking?

A little later, Neil lies to Keating, telling him that he’s talked to his father, and that he’s allowed to stay in the play.

The next night, Keating and the boys prepare to go see Neil perform, with Chris even turning up and deciding to accompany Knox to the play. It’s well worth it. Neil is in his element, comfortable and dynamic on stage, and his classmates and teacher cheer him on, awestruck by his talent.

Before the last monologue, Neil spots his father, entering the theater. Clearly daunted, he goes out and sells his final monologue anyway, to the wild applause of the audience.

All but his father.

After the performance, Neil’s father brings him home, informing him that he is being pulled out of Welton, and enrolled into a military school, immediately followed by medical school. Neil attempts to argue, to plead his case, but his father shuts him down, and Neil stops arguing.

Later that night, after his parents go to bed, Neil sneaks into his parents’ room wearing his costume, opens the drawer, taking his father’s gun, before retreating to his father’s study and killing himself.

It is right here that the movie goes from a good, even average film about ‘seizing the day’ and living life to the fullest, to a great movie about the consequences of doing it.

In another movie, Neil’s father would have seen the performance and realized his son was right. Or if he hadn’t, Neil would have finally stood up for himself, and his parents might have seen the light.

In another film, Neil wouldn’t have died. Especially not like that.

It is this moment, this gear-switch, that the audience is forced to contend with the implications, the fallout of these actions, and that sometimes, even ‘seizing the day’ is impossible, depending on your circumstances.

It’s not an easy idea to swallow. It’s not one we’re used to in movies. But it’s here, nonetheless.

Back at Welton, the boys tearfully wake Todd up to tell him the news. Upset, Todd runs out into the snow, as the boys follow. He remarks on how beautiful the snow is before throwing up and breaking down, rushing into the snow alone. In the classroom, Mr. Keating paces empty desks, arriving at Neil’s and removing the poetry book he left for him with the Dead Poets Society inscription.

The next morning, it turns out that the fallout affects more than Neil.

Headmaster Nolan announces that he intends to conduct an investigation into what happened. The boys gather to talk as Nolan interrogates Cameron, the rule-abider. The remaining Dead Poets are certain that Cameron is going to sell them out, and sure enough, that’s exactly what he does. Cameron enters, telling the group that he told them everything, and that they all should too, as it’s too late to save Keating, but not to save themselves.

Charlie reacts to this by punching Cameron in the face, getting him expelled.

The next boy called in is Todd, who enters Nolan’s office to find his parents there, too. Nervously, he sits as Nolan tries to get Todd to sign a document blaming Mr. Keating for Neil’s death. Todd glances at the page: the rest of the Dead Poets have signed too.

Later, in English class, Headmaster Nolan arrives and announces that he will be teaching until they can find a permanent replacement for Keating. As he opens class (encouraging people to read the ‘excellent’ ripped out introduction from the book) Keating enters the room to collect his things. After long moments of silence of the boys keeping their heads down as Keating gathers his belongings, Todd finally breaks, calling out to Mr. Keating and telling him that the school forced them to sign the confession.

As Nolan tries to get him to sit down, Todd shouts out: “O Captain, My Captain”, and stands on his desk. Many other students follow, one by one, as Keating tearfully watches.

Keating gratefully thanks the boys, and the film ends on a closeup of Todd’s face, after he’s finally stood up for himself, and seized the day.

Make no mistake, this is not a happy ending. Keating is forced to leave the school. Neil has taken his own life, trapped into a lifetime he didn’t want. Charlie has been expelled, and it’s likely the rest of the boys will be too. This is a movie based on, and ending with, great uncertainty. Not every boy stood up. Not everyone is coming out of this okay.

The question is, what are we supposed to take away from this?

The message of the film, the core theme that people remember, is Seize the Day. And yet, of those who ‘Seize the Day’, very few come out of it unscathed, if any. Instead, people are left with heartbreak, making bad decisions or, even if the decisions may have been morally ‘right’, or what they felt they had to do, consequences must follow. Charlie’s overzealous sense of humor and bucking of authority gets him expelled. Knox’s over-the-top romanticization of Chris nearly drives her away and gets him in trouble. Neil kills himself because the restricting nature of his family won’t allow him to ‘Seize the Day’.

And Todd?

Todd finally speaks out, but too late to fix any of the damage.

Despite the focus on Mr. Keating in most of the promotional material, the protagonist of the movie is, of course, Todd. Once Neil dies, Todd is who we are left with, and it is Todd who changes from shy boy who won’t speak out to the leader of a final daring farewell to a teacher that changed his life. He’s the one that grows. He changes.

It’s just too little too late.

The story of Dead Poets Society is a sobering one, and not exactly a story you’d expect. The first two-thirds could have been part of any typical, ‘feel good’ teen drama about self-discovery, but the last third takes expectations and turns them on their head. This is real life: it doesn’t always work out. People get fired for trying to do the right thing. Parents don’t see the harmful impact they have on their children. People value rules and tradition over the dreams of the young.

It is in this devastating third act that Dead Poets Society earns its place as a classic: by refusing to allow the cliched beginnings to define its ending.

It would have been so easy to allow Neil to convince his father to allow him to act. It would have been simple to allow Keating to change the mind of the establishment, for the Dead Poets to take Welton by storm.

But real life doesn’t always work out like that. Sometimes, the way we go about ‘seizing the day’ can end badly depending on our circumstances and the wisdom in the method we choose. The film isn’t telling us how to do it right. It’s showing you the lives of people who did it wrong, or at least, who seized the day, tried to make their lives extraordinary, and failed, due to many different reasons.

But.

That doesn’t mean we should stop trying.

For every failure, for every mistake (Neil sneaking to do the play, Charlie’s pranks, etc.), Todd’s example stands above and beyond. Yes, he might get into trouble. But this moment, this act of telling a beloved teacher that his work was not in vain, that his students will remember him, that he was not to blame, feels right. This is what he is supposed to do.

We cheer for that moment, we feel the weight of the movie lift just a smidge, because in the end, we have to seize the day. We have to try to make our lives extraordinary, but we have to find the right way to do it, the wise way to do it.

Because, for all of the mistakes made, Keating is right: Words and ideas will change the world. It is up to us how to use them, when to use daring, or caution, and in the end, try to find the meeting place between doing what is right, and doing what is true to yourself.

The ending is uncertain, yes. But it’s the only satisfying ending that an honest movie could give us.

Dead Poets Society is an emotional story, bringing up questions about non-conformity and following the rules that go beyond a surface: ‘yes or no’. A gripping story full of great performances, a warm atmosphere, and immortal dialogue, Dead Poets Society will continue to be a testament to words as long as we care to use them.

In the articles ahead, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the other important elements of Dead Poets Society, so if you enjoyed this one, stick around and join us! Don’t forget to leave a comment, like, or some other form of love if you enjoyed it, and follow for more! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.

#1989 #80s #Dead Poets Society #Dead Poets Society 1989 #Comedy #Drama #Dylan Kussman #Ethan Hawke #Film #Gale Hansen #Josh Charles #Kurtwood Smith #Movies #Peter Weir #PG #Robert Sean Leonard #Robin Williams

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ollifree · 4 years

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Found an Inquisitor-as-Companions ask sheet so I’m filling these out for Kendra/Darrell in the multi protags au

1. If not for the Conclave, what would drive your character to join the Inquisition?

They both joined because they were at the Conclave and honestly? I can’t see them joining if they weren’t. Much like in the other worldstates were they aren’t Inquisitor, Mami Trevelyan got a firm lockdown on her children after the sky literally exploded. Oh wait, did I say they both joined because they were at the Conclave? That’s a lie. Darrell joined because he was at the Conclave. Kendra joined because Darrell did.

2. How would they meet the Inquisitor?

Kendra met her (Fanari Lavellan, I’m using my own Inquisitor but I’m writing this to fit any Inquisitor) first, in the same cutscene as Varric and Solas. Fanari chose to take the mountain path rather than go with the soldiers (and got her first Kendra Greatly Approves boost). Darrell was one of the soldiers stranded up on the mountain top.

3. What would some of their cutscenes look like?

One of the caveats of their cutscenes is that both of them are always present until Trespasser; at least at the start if not for the whole thing. During the first Trespasser scenes they’re apart because they’re having a spat about Darrell going to Tevinter with Dorian. (Kendra’s having a spat. Darrell’s having a headache.)

Their first cutscene (excluding their introductions) takes place in Haven. They’re found speaking with Josephine about the memorial being planned for those who died or went missing in the Conclave: a reading of names followed by lighting a pyre. Both are insisting that if the memorial’s ready to go but they’re out of Haven on Inquisition business, don’t stop on their account. Josephine starts to argue, but Fanari, out looking for Josephine to let her know her expertise is needed, interrupts. Kendra stalks off shortly after Josephine leaves.

Fanari asks Darrell what the argument was about. He tells her that he and Kendra weren’t the only Trevelyans at the Conclave, but they were the only ones to come out of it. “It’s been hard letting the family know, but it’s helped us. Going to the memorial would just be reopening the wounds, now.” Darrell turns the conversation on Fanari, asking if she wants something different to or happening with the pyre. Cutscene goes into approval/disapproval dialogue focused on faith and grief, with Darrell showing understanding to Fanari and approving of open-mindedness for people processing those things differently.

A follow-up conversation with Kendra can occur: also used as an approval dialogue. Hers is focused on the immediate fallout of the failed Conclave. Approval is gained by sympathizing with her but not pressing her on her personal losses, and her main concerns are shown to be for those not at the Conclave who had their lives upended by the Breach.

Their second cutscene takes place in Skyhold the first time speaking to one of them there before it’s restored. Fanari comments on not knowing which parts of the castle would be best suited to what. Kendra points at she and Darrell are noble, and can make a solid guess at whatever they’re not directly familiar with. They grab Cassandra and Dorian (for the same reasons) and the group sets off to explore. It’s used as an introductory tour of Skyhold for the player and as such enough time is spent in each area to inform them what will be there.

Kendra opens one door, goes in, and immediately leaves with a “Nope.” Darrell pokes his head into the room and declares it a broom closet, but advises they’ll want to get someone up here to take care of the spiders. There’s no dialogue tree for approval, but Fanari can gain some from both of them by making humorous suggestions for what areas the player decides (gardens, tower, courtyard) might be used for.

The third cutscene happens after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. The Inquisitor walks up on the two as they’re discussing the outcome of the quest. Their reactions vary on which outcome happened (Celine died and Gaspard’s a puppet ruler to Briala in Fanari’s worldstate. Tragic) but generally Kendra’s content with any outcome while Darrell has concerns dependent on which leader’s in charge. More separate approval dialogue trees happen: Darrell gives approval by acknowledging his concerns and stating that for the time being the Inquisition can at least keep an eye on things; Kendra gives approval to an Inquisitor who also enjoyed The Game and comments on how Orlais’ leader can be used to the Inquisition’s benefit.

The fourth happens after Here Lies the Abyss. Both twins are rather subdued as Maria, one of the Hawke twins, remained behind in the Fade to make time for Fanari to escape after Gareth had already landed back in the physical world. It’s a short scene, but the Inquisitor can get a Greatly Approves from each of them by saying “At least we’ve still got you two,” even if their reactions are still on the quiet side.

The fifth cutscene takes place after the Inquisitor drinks (or doesn’t drink) from the Well of Sorrows. Darrell excuses himself shortly after Fanari arrives. Kendra checks with her that she’s feeling okay after drinking from the Well. Kendra’s approval doesn’t dip in this conversation, and she reaffirms at the end of it that if Fanari starts feeling any effects to come find her.

An Inquisitor who drank from the Well can gain approval back from Darrell in his conversation by recognizing his worry and concerns for them. He ends the dialogue by confirming that he is worried for them first and foremost, but acknowledges that they were strapped for options at the time.

Both twins will ask Fanari about her reaction to the temple of Mythal, although no approval/disapproval is gained from how she answers. No, I don’t know how this goes for an Inquistor who didn’t drink from the Well. Write your own AU. For my characters.

Once both twins hit max approval a bonus cutscene is obtained. Fanari finds them out on the training ground in the courtyard sparring together with staves. Fanari asks why they don’t use the weapons out in the field. Darrell explains that they’re not much use against demons and mages, but it’s good to keep in shape. Cassandra approaches, curious about why they’re using Nevarran weapons. “Because we’re half Nevarran,” Darrell explains.

Cassandra stutters over this new information, because surely she’d know. Kendra points out a few facts for her: mainly that they’re the only two of the Inquisition who pronounce Cassandra’s name correctly (a subtle breath variation between syllables), their wording on a few phrases is a literal translation from the phrase in Nevarran, and neither of them eat beef. She drags Darrell back to training with a parting, “You’re a Seeker it’s your job to notice things.”

4. What would their romance route look like? Would they be romanceable?

Theoretically yes, both are romanceable by either gender. Fanari, however, is not romantically interested in humans.

5. If they romanced someone as Inquisitor, would they still fall for that person as a companion? How would that play out? How would they react to that person being romanced by the “new” Inquisitor?

They both do follow their romance paths with Iron Bull (Kendra) and Dorian (Darrell). They play out roughly in the same manner as they do when they’re Inquisitor. They’d both be sore over losing their prospective LIs to the Inquisitor if far enough along a romance path, but would recognize there’s bigger things to worry about.

6. Write some of their party banter.

Kendra

(On reaching the Crossroads in the Hinterlands for the first time) Kendra: Hm. Solas: Is something the matter, Lady Trevelyan? Kendra: I’m not sure if I was expecting things to be worse. Solas: We must do what we can.

Dorian: How many sisters do you have, Kendra? Kendra: Who’s asking? Dorian: Your brother was telling me his nose broke— Kendra: Oh, because of Cloud Dancer? That was me. Dorian: (laughter)

Vivienne: Are things well with your family, darling? Kendra: Well enough. Vivienne: I don’t mean to pry, dear. Just to remind you not all things are terrible. Kendra: ...Thanks.

Sera: Sun. Heat. Wind. Kendra: I’m too tired for lists. Sera: Grump.

Cole: (Darrell not in party) He misses you. Kendra: (grunt)

Kendra: I’ve heard you’re writing a book. Varric: Don’t get yourself into a tizzy. I know to keep my pen away from you.

(After Blackwall’s personal quest) Kendra: Welcome back. Blackwall: Oh. You’re speaking to me? Kendra: Long enough to tell you to stop coming to drink nights.

Iron Bull: Look at these footprints. (groan) They’re so tangled up I can’t tell how many there were. Kendra: At least a dozen. They straighten a little way out. Fanari: Do we know how recently they were here? Kendra: Rain fucks it up, but it can’t have been more than an hour. Iron Bull: They wanted this place bad. Might still be nearby. Darrell: (if in party) Well. I feel safe.

Cassandra: But, your family is so widespread there’s a Trevelyan in every Chantry. How can you not believe...? Kendra: Easier than getting you to shut up about it.

(Overheard when in the library after What Pride Had Wrought) Kendra: Have time for a question? Solas: Of course. Kendra: (hissed) Fuck’s wrong with you?

Darrell

Solas: This once was a place of learning for my people. Now even the ruins have turned to dust. Darrell: I’m sorry. Would it be possible to see it as it was? In your sleep, I mean? Solas: I think so. Our current task is more important, however.

Dorian: Sure, take Dorian along. It’s not like he hates the damp. Or the chill. Or the wildlife. Darrell: Would you have rather been kept back at camp? Dorian: It would be much more romantic to be weeping over a corpse than being wept over.

Darrell: Are you alright, Vivienne? Vivienne: Yes, thank you. Darrell: You’re sure? Vivinne: It will take more than an apostate to do me in, dear, but I am grateful for your concern.

Sera: You and Dorian, eh? Darrell: I think so. Sera: Good.

Darrell: I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my thoughts, Cole. Cole: I do. Sometimes. But, right after, I have to stop. She doesn’t like me to hear her. Darrell: Hearing me...makes you hear her? Cole: Yes. You’re happy!

Varric: Mind if I ask your thoughts on some things? Historical books are better with different perspectives. Darrell: You’re doing a historical novel? Varric: Not a novel per-say. More a bibliographical. On all this. Darrell: Can I give you a warning? Varric: For what? Darrell: My sister might come for you just for including her name. Varric: Noted.

Blackwall: Impressive how you turn your blade into a shield when we fight. Darrell: Oh, thank you. Blackwall: That wears it out a bit faster, doesn’t it? Darrell: The blacksmiths know my name, yeah. Blackwall: I was thinking. If we fought closer together, I may be able to take an arm off before they can strike. Darrell: Depends on where you stand. Otherwise Kendra might hit you.

Iron Bull: You know, a few drinks might loosen you up a little. Why not join us next time? Darrell: When’s next time? Iron Bull: If we’re unlucky, back at Skyhold. Darrell: And if we’re lucky? Iron Bull: Next group we bust has a cask on ‘em. Darrell: (laughter)

Cassandra: I have heard one of your siblings was a templar? Darrell: Two were. A brother and a sister. Cassandra: Has there been any news since...? Darrell: No. Cassandra: I'm sorry.

(During Trespasser) Darrell: Did Kendra and I tell you we were in Kirkwall recently? Varric: No! Both of you at once? I’d have bet money! What’d you think? Darrell: Bit of a shithole. Kendra: (if in party) Bit of a shithole. Varric: (laughter) Bit of a shithole.

7. What would be on their tombstone in the Fade?

Darrell’s is drowning. “Oh because of the metaphor of being weighed down by responsibility and sinking into helplessness?” “No I literally cannot swim.”

Kendra’s is betrayal. Though, she hides it and says it’s spiders. Like the form the nightmares take for her, or the giant ones they kill every Thursday that she screams during.

(Fanari’s is loss. Loss of those important to her, loss of her identity to humans who will try to rewrite her in history, loss of her autonomy to being the figurehead of the Inquisition.)

8. What kind of Inquisitor would drive them to leave the Inquisition/confront them about their actions?

Both Kendra and Darrell would confront an Inquisitor whose underlying motivations are cruel. They can both understand the difficulty of making a hard decision and going with the unpopular option, but there’s a difference between doing it because it needs to be done and doing it to see someone suffer. Unlike the bonus cutscene, you’d only need one of them at minimal approval. The one would take the other with them. You either have them as a pair or you don’t have them at all.

9. Where in Skyhold would they be found?

Kendra has a workshop set up in the rooms above Skyhold’s garden where she mixes poisons and Tempest flasks. It’s a tidy-ish room with a desk on one side and a large Do Not Touch plant on the other. There’s a few crates lying around along with a few stacks of paper here and there. Outside of gameplay mechanics, if she’s not there then she’s at the tavern.

Darrell has a sparse room comprised of bed, desk, and music stand. He’s generally found out in the courtyard by the training field.

10. If Inquisition operated like DA:O, what would their gift items be? What would their approval and disapproval Feast Day items be?

Darrell likes books and small trinkets. His approval Feast Day item would be a violin, and his disapproval item would be the sheet music to a score infamous for being the worst composition ever put to paper.

Kendra likes practical gifts: a whetstone, maps, candles. Her approval item would be a rune-enchanted blade and her disapproval item would be anything overtly having to do with the Maker or the Chantry.

11. How would they grow as a person? How would they compare at the end of the Inquisition as a companion to who they were as the Inquisitor?

Kendra’s biggest difference is that she’s quicker to trust other members of the Inquisition when she’s a companion. It still takes time, but she mellows out fairly quickly with other party members after getting to Skyhold.

Darrell becomes more decisive in his actions throughout the game, though he remains empathetic to others and to different sides of an argument.

12. Do they believe the Herald of Andraste is really the Herald of Andraste?

Kendra doesn’t believe in the Maker or Andraste, so that’s a big fat no from her. Darrell believes Fanari when she says she isn’t the Herald.

13. If the Herald didn’t have them tag along to prep the trebuchets, what would they do during the battle for Haven? (bonus: would they join in on the impromptu Dawn Will Come choir practice in the camp?)

Kendra made herself part of the group prepping the trebuchets. She’s part of the action from the get-go. Darrell would be helping others evacuate.

The Dawn Will Come choir doesn’t happen in Fanar’s canon. She cuts Mother Giselle off partway through her speech and gets up to start organizing people so they have something to do to take their minds off the situation and get them out of it sooner. Fanari knows how to booster moral by showing steady and knowing leadership, so that’s what she does.

14. What nickname does Varric give them?

Kendra’s nickname for when she’s a companion is Knives, though tbh I’m thinking of just making it her Inquisitor nickname Junebug. So that’ll probably happen. Darrell gets Smiles, and Fanari is Starshine.

15. Without the influence of their decisions for the Inquisition, which of the companions do they get along with? Which ones do they bicker with?

Darrell and Sera butt heads at first, but they’re on friendly terms less than halfway through the game. The party members he best gets along with are Dorian, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Varric.

The only companions Kendra doesn’t get along with are Cassandra and Blackwall, after his personal quest. She does have polite conversations with Cassandra, but even in Trespasser their conversations aren’t overtly friendly. The party members she’s on best terms with are Iron Bull, Solas, Sera, and Vivienne.

Frictions arise between both of them and Solas post Solas breaking things off with Fanari.

16. What would the Fear Demon say to them in the Fade to try and discourage them?

For both it’s them losing each other or more members of their family. Darrell’s response is “I was beginning to feel left out,” while Kendra’s is “Can you tell how hard I’m thinking about killing you?”

17. Where do they hang out in the Winter Palace? What’s their thoughts on the nobles/The Game?

Both of them hang out on the opposite side of the balcony where you find Josephine. If asked, the offer advice about who to speak to and when. Ambient dialogue can be heard from various nobles about them, with approval of them as individuals going up through the night regardless of the Inquisitor’s standing.

Kendra lives for The Game. It’s putting everything she does daily (mistrusting, misdirecting, manipulating) all in one spot with new people who don’t know how she operates.

Darrell’s more ambivalent about it, what with the backstabbing and the distrust, but he’s still good at it. He has a charm about him that makes people believe his sincerity and he knows when to obfuscate an answer without the other party feeling left wanting.

18. What’s their reaction to a dragon showing up?

Both of them have an initial reaction of Fuck, though Kendra follows it with “Guess we have to fight it now,” while Darrell’s more in the “We really don’t” camp.

19. Once Corypheus is beaten, what do they do during the party? Do they stay with the Inquisition, or go somewhere else? What could the Inquisitor do to convince them to stay?

Both of them are near one of the fires in Skyhold’s judgement hall. Again, they’re a package deal, and Kendra will tell the Inquisitor that since Darrell wants to stay she’ll stick around. “Besides, the world’s not ending anymore. Might be nice to breathe for a bit. Thanks for that.”

20. How do they react to learning abominations can retain their consciousness and identity, and even live peacefully with their spirits/demons, as seen in Stone-Bear Hold?

Kendra’s intrigued. She’ll ask questions even if the Inquisitor doesn’t. Darrell’s a tad more cautious, but checks himself. They’re respectful that this isn’t a similar culture to theirs and that they have no say in how these people live their lives.

21. What do they think of the discoveries made in the Deep Roads? Do they make any comments on anything?

They both hate the Deep Roads and they’re sorry for suggesting they go there. Send word to the Shaperate about what we found and let’s go. Next time a boyfriend dumps you we’ll take you to an opera.

22. If you have another Inquisitor, how would those two get along, specifically?

Both of them see Fanari and go “that’s a whole-ass child”. Throughout the game Fanari’s unofficially adopted as a little sister. Fanari’s a tad closer to Kendra at the end of the day, but she does care deeply for both of them.

23. In Trespasser, what “gift” would they give the Inquisitor, if any?

They’re a bit too wrapped up in personal drama to have planned anything for Fanari. Though they’re both the most dedicated in getting her to the end of the DLC once her imminent death becomes known. Yeah, the mark might go off again and destroy everything in a ten-foot radius, but Fanari needs help standing upright so guess what they’re gonna do.

24. What are their plans for after the Exalted Council? Will the Inquisition staying in tact or being disbanded make a difference?

Fanari wrote the members of the Inquisition before the Exalted Council to say, paraphrased, “Inquisition’s over pack your shit and leave.” Kendra’s looking forward to going home to Ostwick, while Darrell’s going to Tevinter with Dorian.

Their squabbling over this becomes so bad Dorian confesses to Fanari he’s considered asking Darrell to stay in the south. “Gods, you are an only child,” Fanari says. Those of us with siblings, we know the tone. Maybe you without siblings do too I don’t know your life.

25. In the alternate reality, if they were corrupted with lyrium, how do they act? What’s their attitude about the end of the world/their inevitable death?

To be completely transparent this is the scenario that solidifies Fanari as Inquisitor over Kendra in the worldstate for me.

After Fanari and Dorian got yeeted forward in time, Darrell was killed in the following fight and Kendra imprisoned until Fanari and Dorian found her. What did she do for that year? Teach herself to become a templar using the red lyrium. By the time she’s released, her entire drive is focused on killing Alexius. She knows she’ll die soon, and she wants to take as many people with her as she can. “They’re going to find out what a mistake it was leaving a Trevelyan in a room full of lyrium.”

#dragon age #olli writes #kendra trevelyan #darrell trevelyan #fanari lavellan #rey i found this on your blog don't ask what i was doing that far back #(i was scrolling ur lavellan stuff)

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quirkless-and-embarrassed · 4 years

Text

Sir Nighteye

Ok, I watched the anime and felt like doing another character meme!

Spoilers for Overhaul arc/season four of the anime.

Favorite thing about him:

I like that Nighteye didn’t allow his admiration of All Might to turn him into a pushover. Such adulation could have blinded him to All Might’s flaws, something Midoriya struggles with, but Nighteye stood firm, spoke his mind, and took action in accordance with what he believed. The way Nighteye willingly, gladly admits to being wrong (about Midoriya and All Might’s decision to fight fate) makes it clear that it wasn’t pride that drove Nighteye away from All Might, but actually principles and genuine concern/panic. Nighteye was happy to be wrong, even though it meant that his failures to change the future were true failures and not simply something out of his control. Knowing this enabled Nighteye to let go of his underlying fear that his quirk didn’t just see the future, it set the future in stone, and he’s able to die peacefully after giving All Might and Midoriya his full, unconditional approval, and after internally apologizing to Mirio for seeing him as a vessel before realizing the error of his ways.

Nighteye presumably awakened his quirk when was four or five, and he was thirty-eight when he died. That’s thirty-four years—he could have used his quirk easily thousands of times, maybe more than ten-thousand—and never once has the future significantly deviated from what he saw. Essentially, his quirk’s been the daily Word Of God since he was five years old. It’s easy for Midoriya or Rock Lock to say, bring it on, I can smash fate; for Nighteye, who has actually tried, it’s a completely different ballgame. He knows what it MEANS to try to change to fate, but he’s determined to try anyways.

I like the balance Nighteye strikes between fierce idealism and calculated realism. Yeah, the narrative often criticizes realism for not being plus ultra, but it’s a quality I like. Nighteye wanted to carefully plan Eri’s rescue and Overhaul’s arrest, but his caution didn’t make him any less committed or passionate, or any less admirable than anyone who would have (tried to) saved her immediately (it’s not like Overhaul would let anyone walk away with her).

I like his hero name. The Sir invokes the honor of a knight, All Might’s vassal, the “eye” is obvious, and “night” because he can see in the “dark”: the future is clear to him. Plus, I like the night/knight pun.

I also like just how gangly, angular, and weird he looks. He has some quality body language with the angle of his head.

Least favorite thing about him:

His stamps…his abs…come on. He doesn’t need to a fantastic fighter. His stamps are a funny weapon to be sure, but it irritates me that they’re as strong as they are. It’s ridiculous that Nighteye could cartoonishly hurl Rappa the way he did, and it was stupid to tear his shirt to show off how ripped he was. I felt like Horikoshi was trying to show us that Nighteye meets the standards of a conventional hero, when he could be just as much of a hero using his brain. At the most, someone like Nighteye, who emphasizes logic and excels at predicting opponents’ next moves, should be carrying a gun like the police.

The tickle machine. Eughh. I could barf at how much I hate it.

It’s also frustrating that Nighteye completely wrote Midoriya off as a “quirkless middle-schooler” who could never become the Symbol of Peace and actively undermined All Might even now that he was finally raising a successor. I can at least respect how upfront he is about it: Midoriya knows what he’s getting into by the time he submits his work study application to UA. But even without that, Nighteye doesn’t trouble me as much as he did the first time I read the manga because 1) I figure Nighteye saw Midoriya when he foresaw All Might’s doomed future, because Midoriya is such a big part of his life that of course Nighteye saw him, 2) Nighteye is aware that they’re working on an extremely tight timeline: All Might is due to die within the next year or two, so picking a baby successor who’s going to need tons of hands-on guidance is a bad move, and 3) Nighteye paid the price for his “quirkless” comment when Mirio lost his quirk, and, despite what he said, it was clear that he didn’t love Mirio less, or respect him less as a hero, because of it.

I like that Nighteye appreciates humor, but his final speech about laughter and smiling, combined with Mirio’s determinedly positive reaction, makes me think that he may not have taught Mirio that it’s okay to be sad, that you don’t need to always smile. That would be a disappointing failure on Nighteye’s part, since the overwhelming pressure All Might feels to be positive+proactive is part of what made him unable to accept Nighteye’s criticism. It also fits with how Nighteye’s inner monologues tend to be more sympathetic than his actual dialogue, so maybe Nighteye should have tried to be less didactic and tell Mirio that he has been Nighteye’s pride and joy, instead of thinking that and giving Mirio a last speech on the importance of smiles and humor. I think he would have been a better teacher if he’d allowed himself to be more sentimental.

Favorite line:

My absolute favorite is in ch137, as he observes Mirio’s guilt from letting Overhaul retrieve Eri and bring her back to his headquarters. Nighteye thinks:

I can’t say whether or not the future can be changed. But we can change the past. How we view the past and interpret it. That much is possible.

It’s an important life lesson, and I like how he inverts the typical, “the past can’t be changed, but you can control the future so that’s what matters” perspective.

I also like it in ch130, when Nighteye berates-slash-comforts Midoriya, who regrets allowing Overhaul take Eri back: “Enough of that arrogant thinking! Haste makes waste. Go after him haphazardly, and he’ll slip through our fingers. You’re not quite so special as to save whom you want, when you want.” Then he elaborates on their plan and finishes with a bang: “The world is not so accommodating that you can act the hero because you feel like it. The cleverest villains out there lurk in the shadows. There will be times when every precaution must be taken.”

One more, in ch161. When he’s on his deathbed, Nighteye looks at Mirio and thinks, In the beginning…I only brought you in as a potential vessel, but you stuck by me, believed in me, and at some point…you became my pride and joy.

BROTP:

Him and Mirio. I love how Nighteye took Mirio under his wing in a half-logical way, viewing him as All Might’s proper successor, only to accidentally raise Mirio as his own successor.

I wish we got to see Nighteye and Aizawa interact more. They’re both the rational mentors who get attached to their kids. It would have been nice to see Aizawa talk to Nighteye about his problem child or about Mirio, or to help Midoriya navigate his relationship with Nighteye, but since Aizawa doesn’t know about OfA and Nighteye was on his way out anyways…oh well.

I’d also love to have seen Nighteye and Hawks interact. They’re connected on a meta level, as the unofficial righthand men of the #1 heroes, and also by the idea of fate. Nighteye’s arc centered on the fact he could see the future, and the future he saw could not be changed. Hawks may or may not know it, but the imagery surrounding him is unmistakeable, and we the readers know that some sort of doom is waiting for the man who goes too fast. Whether Hawks can defy fate or if he’ll be crushed by it remains to be seen (and, like Nighteye, he’s not looking promising).

Hawks takes one look at Nighteye—perfectly pressed suit, pinched, no-nonsense expression and all—and is like oh this guy looks like he’s gonna be fun. Nighteye looks even more tightly wound than Endeavor. But actually, Nighteye actually respects and appreciates Hawks’s cavalier attitude! And though they rarely see each other, since they live far apart, they become friends who mainly swap information and keep each other up to date on villain things. Occasionally Hawks will see something ridiculous, like a meme or something, and send it to Nighteye, and Nighteye follows Hawks on social media and sometimes likes his stuff.

It’d be especially interesting to see them disagree about All Might. Nighteye is such a hardcore fanboy, Hawks professes to not be a fan, the Symbol of Peace is such an important part of how Nighteye envisions the future, and it’d be interesting to hear Hawks’s perspective on the Symbol of Peace and where it fits into his vision of the future.

I also appreciate Nighteye and All Might’s relationship, but like…idk, they got so little time together in canon, I kinda prefer to think of it as a dead brotp. Even if Nighteye had survived, I would kinda want his relationship with All Might not to be very close, because even though they weren’t angry anymore didn’t mean they could pick up where they left off.

OTP:

Hmm…not really anyone. I haven’t read much Nighteye fic. There is this one touching soulmate AU where he and All Might both bear the black symbol of someone who has been rejected by their soulmate…here.

NOTP:

No, not really.

Random headcanon:

One of the reasons he reacted so harshly to Midoriya as All Might’s successor is that when he foresaw All Might’s death, he also saw Midoriya. Midoriya’s failure to protect All Might from his gruesome death revealed him as an unfit successor, and he believes if he can remove Midoriya from the equation, then he will have changed the future.

Nighteye helped All Might track down AfO to avenge Nana, and he felt partially responsible for All Might’s injury in addition to fearing that his quirk set All Might’s future in stone.

Nighteye used his quirk on All Might between surgeries, because he couldn’t stand not knowing whether All Might would survive his wounds from AfO or not. He should have stopped when he saw All Might survived, but—he’s such a fanboy, and he saw that future!him was terrified and arguing with All Might about something, and he knew immediately just from the expression on his own face that he’d foreseen All Might’s death. He couldn’t resist looking ahead to find it and learn how much time All Might had left.

…part of me thinks that the reason Nighteye’s foresight was wrong about Midoriya’s death was because Eri also has a time-related quirk, and there was nothing Midoriya really did to change fate. Which would be sad, but. Yeah.

I’d like to think that Nighteye had a really wacky, judgmental cat with a questionably funny name. It sat on top of the fridge and looked down on him when he came home late. After his death, it becomes his agency’s cat and harbors a dangerous grudge against Bubble Girl’s aromatic bubbles.

Unpopular opinion:

It seems like plenty of people dislike him, so…I like him? He’s not even close to one of my favorites, but still.

Even though I like him, I was surprised to discover he was dead—I forgot he died, so I guess his death scene didn’t leave an impression on me. Looking back on it, I think it’s a nice enough scene, but at the time I was probably too exasperated by the overhaul arc as a whole to care much.

idk, I don’t see people talk about him much.

Song I associate with him:

uh…um…well……there isn’t really any music I associate with him. Here are a few songs that are very loose associations, I guess.

Darkside of the Sun by Tokio Hotel reminds me of how All Might’s public persona has taken over his identity, and Nighteye is seeking to save his life by retiring his persona.

Carry Me Down by Demon Hunter has the line “I know the pain inside my heart / can’t break the fear inside of yours,” which reminds me of Nighteye’s grief can’t persuade All Might to confront the reality of his imminent death, plus other stuff in the song about unspoken regrets and death.

And last, Turns to Dust by Sound Surfer and Nilka reminds me of Shigaraki (for obvious reasons), but I think it also speaks to Nighteye’s fear of his quirk.

Favorite picture of him:

Ch126 – Nighteye’s glare when Midoriya mimics All Might’s smile! He sure is intimidating 😂

Episode 75 – This moment did nothing for me in the manga, but it was genuinely moving in the anime. The voice acting and music <3

I’ve also done Todoroki, Bakugo, Uraraka, Endeavor, Amajiki, and Shinsou!

#sir nighteye #nighteye #sasaki mirai #bnha #bnha s4 spoilers #nerd mumbling #text #ask meme #mirio #hawks

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brightsun-and-darkmidnight · 4 years

Text

The Match Maker

TITLE: The Match Maker

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine not being able to have children for some reason. Perhaps Reader has dogs/cats/animals as their child(ren). Now, imagine readers most mischievous animal child getting Loki to meet reader.

(I need this. If the animal’s name is Loki, AND if written in the pet’s point of view)

Imagine being woken by an odd thumping noise, as of a falling body, coming from your living room in the middle of the night. When you go to investigate, you find a very perplexed Loki flat on his back on the floor, with your cat loafing on his chest, purring like a buzzsaw and giving you an incredibly proud look, as if to say, “Hi, human! Look what I caught for you!”

NOTES/WARNINGS: Manipulation. Manipulative relationship. A splash of angst. And a sprinkle of NSFW.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: thank you @cateyes315 for the help!

Summary: Gabriella has a family guardian that is determined to find her soulmate. Having a perfect match maker is not always desired because every deal has a catch.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

*FINALLY..Read the warnings. Once you agree you can handle it...

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Loki begged. "With Gabriella's life extended I can court her properly. She will be able to handle birth. I will-"

Odin looked down on Loki. "All that matters to that Guardian is an heir. And by you not giving it one there will be no threat."

Loki's eyes watered as his heart thumped loudly in his chest. "I love her."

"Just a side effect of the curse. It will pass once she is out of your life."

Loki glared at his father. "I will do anything for her and there is NOTHING that will stop me!"

Odin smiled, "there is only one spell you can do without my permission."

Loki already knew which one because it was the one he refused to use.

<><><><>

Gabriella's heart hurt in a tangled mess of anger, betrayal, and sadness.

She had no control this entire time and her manipulative guardian knew the whole time.

When she woke her alarm was blaring its annoying song off the radio. She got ready in a daze and worked as best as she could. Everyone was distancing themselves from her once they all found out about her two week notice. It was days later and she did not see Loki. She prayed that she didn't just put in a notice for nothing.

As she laid on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her as she wiped tears away.

The manipulative guardian sat and watched her. "Is the fact Loki has not come to see you why you are so upset?"

Gabriella glared at Loki. "The fact I have news of a new deal and I have not been able to tell him."

He smiled, "well that's a shame really."

Gabriella jumped at her door being knocked on late at night.

She heard Loki call out her name thus moved her body in a swift way to open the door. She flung herself at him and he caught her in his tight embrace.

"I missed you." She missed his smell of spices and leather.

She was carried through the house to her bedroom.

As she was laid down she stared into his eyes with a hushed declaration. "I love you."

She watched as his smile grew.

"I love you too." Loki pushed hair away from her face and studied her. "Gabriella I know what we can do. That spell you liked. We need to use that one because the Alfather will not grant me permission to use another."

Gabriella got out his grasp and sat on the edge of the bed. Tears bubbled in her eyes. "We never had control. Loki knew the entire time. He controls how many children my family had. And if I extend my life it won't matter because after his nine lives are up he will die and I will too…"

Gabriella felt Loki pull her to him and trapped her in his arms. "What can we do?"

Gabriella sniffled. "If I give him ten years of my remaining life expectancy he will live long enough for well.. I guess until we have a child."

Loki sighed then nuzzled his nose into Gabriella's neck making her shudder.

"I will not leave our child defenseless."

"I have to give him 10 years."

"You will have plenty more years after the spell."

<><><><>

I grumbled as they sat and talk.

Maybe they were too good a match.

Once in Asgard with totes of things Gabriella was given a room in Loki's hallway.

Gabriella gave me the 10 years of her life and when Loki set the area up for the bonding spell all three of us were called to the throne room.

Odin stared down at Loki. "You will use a spell that could put her life in danger?"

Loki's eyes narrowed. "It is the only one I could use."

"You would use it, knowing I did not approve? You could be punished."

"Yes I would."

Odin gestured to the doors and guards opened it. I looked around and saw the notorious golden apple.

Odin looked to me. "While I do not approve of this relationship, mostly due to you, I will not put a family member in danger, especially my grandchild and potential heir to the throne. Under no circumstances will you have the child. They will be trained from birth to wield their power. The contract will be broken."

I glared at the king due to not being able to do much else.

Gabriella took the apple handed to her.

Odin stared at Gabriella. "This apple will make you an Asgardian. The more you eat the stronger you will be. I warn you it will hurt."

Gabriella looked to Loki who nodded.

I watched as Gabriella ate as much as she could and even when I felt the pain, she kept eating the apple.

We were both cared for while Gabriella recovered but the pain was outstandingly unbearable. I knew she was in more pain than me.

Due to the contract to keep her alive, I was only taking the pain she could have died from.

<><><><>

It was sicking how sweet they were to each other. I had to follow Gabriella wherever she wanted so after the recovery and Gabriella was able to move around she was put in study classes to help her learn all of the parts of being royalty. Loki would help her near constantly, especially with the dances. He would help her how to read when they would study spells one of her classes taught her.

Most of the courting years carried on with lessons.

Loki was always the gentleman and treated Gabriella like a delicate flower.

However, when Gabriella began to beg him for help in her battle skills he began to treat her a little less like a fragile thing.

I was treated with care and respect because Gabriella had ordered it. Some understood that without me, their Prince would not be so happy but the others… Well they despised me because they all knew my plan to take the child.

The damn contract was threatened considerably because all of Asgard was planning how to end it. Though I kept the secret as to when they reach maturity is the first chance I will get.

And then the big wedding night…

They could not keep their eyes off the other and danced constantly.

When it was time to consummate the marriage I stayed in Gabriella's room while they all but ran to Loki's with giggles and excited smiles.

<><><><>

Gabriella was nervous when she was in Loki's chambers.

She has waited a little over 40 years for this moment, for this chance. For her one purpose in her life.

She looked at Loki who stood just a foot from herself. His hand extended out and she instantly gave him her hand which prompted him to pull themselves together. His hand slid up her arm and to her cheek that held her gently. Her hands went to his shoulders to give herself some leverage for her weak knees.

"I love you."

His declaration made her skin tingle and as she parroted his words they leaned for the other.

Their lips met for the first time and electric ran through her body. A sound escaped from her as a sound from him made it feel as if a strong magnet was pulling her to him. They kissed as much as they could while undressing. Loki lifted her and carried her to the center of his massive bed. She felt weightless in his grasp and loved as she was gently placed on the bed.

His mouth never left her body while the only thing she was able to do was let sounds carry through the room as encouragement.

Nearly out of breath she called his name and he finally crawled up her body and placed a kiss on her lips. She tasted herself in that kiss, moaning once again but with the thoughts of what his tongue did to her. She eagerly parted her legs wider to allow him to take his place. She has never known anything to be inside her until this moment. However, the electric coursing through her made it highly pleasurable to be connected to him in such a way.

The beautiful praise Loki gave her made the tingling feeling intensify.

Gabriella noticed how her sounds and her words made him groan softly into her neck, seeming to have an effect on him as well.

Gabriella's fingers ran down his back and then her fingers dug into his hips for further encouragement. She rocked her body in time with his as if this was the millionth time of making love.

Their first night together put a large amount of time into their lifetime as partners.

<><><><>

I really wished I could roll my eyes at the attempts to keep me away from Gabriella once she became pregnant.

With how much the two disappeared it did NOT take long for Gabriella to become pregnant thus a rush for gathering the best teachers from most of the other realms. Lessons for the baby started even while still in the womb. Gabriella would read spells out loud for the little one to hear.

I sat on the table as Gabriella went over protection spells with Loki, especially the one to break the contract. Gabriella paused in reading and held the large baby bump. I knew instantly it was time for me to meet the next family member.

Once the infant was born my form changed to a hawk...but I had no name.

The contract was not broken but I knew then it would be in the future.

<><><><>

I spent more time than I thought I would with the child. She loved to watch me Fly, played with my feathers with gentle hands, and she gave me the name,

"Flyn!"

I swooped down onto her arm. "I got your favorite fish Valentina."

She smiled as she poked my beak, "I know silly. I got the fire ready!"

I mumbled, "You are just like your mother."

"Well she IS my mother."

I tapped Valentina on the head with my wing.

She giggled as she sat down and I stood on a log nearby. As she prepared the fish I listened to the surrounding area.

"Ya know Flyn… I have been thinking about what is going to happen to you once I break the contract."

"I will probably revert back to my spiritual form."

"What if I want you to stay my friend? Will we still talk?"

"Probably not. I have been your family's guardian for too many years. It was the contract that kept me here so long."

Silence took its place but I could see signs of Loki in Valentina's thoughtful expression.

She stared into the fire as she slowly asked, "what if I made a contract with you to be my friend? Ya know… not a matchmaker but to be my friend."

"What do I get out of it?"

She smiled brightly. "My awesome company and someone to make you food."

<><><><>

When the time came for the contract to be broken Valentina gave me the option for her own contract but I accepted. However I did not stop trying to be a matchmaker.

I pointed my wing at a good looking boy. "What about that one over there? They are good looking. Oooo they looked at you with a smile!"

Valentine groaned, "How did you pick the past soulmates? You are terrible at this."

"I am not."

She drawled. "Right…" She lifted her shoulder with me on it. "Maybe it is because you aren't trying to make a super baby to take over their body."

I scoffed. "You are never going to let that go are you?"

"Nope."

<><><><>

Loki watched his daughter walk through the busy streets and into the wilderness.

A gentle hand rested on his. "Valentina will be fine. Lok-Flyn with keep her safe."

Loki smiled at Gabriella. "Still getting used to the name change?"

"I have known him by your name all my life." Gabriella pulled Loki inside to their bedroom. "Now then… let's try to have another child."

#brightsun-and-darkmidnight #the match maker #loki #chapter 2

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cosmiciaria · 5 years

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In defense of Dragon Age 2 (review - no spoilers - long post!)

It seems I'm only allowed to play games in disorder, because I played this one after Inquisition, and guess what I'm almost at the end of now (yes, you guessed it, Origins). But it's not a problem for me, because after I *checks notes* ejem, played, uhm, like nine playthroughs of Inquisition, cof, cof, I've learned all the tiny details and branches and possible endings of each installment. So this game's story wasn't a surprise in many aspects – although there were still things I didn't know or I didn't expect.

So DA2 is the black sheep of the family, and somehow I can see why. It differs greatly from the origin prologue you get to play in the first one, and the silent protagonist is gone, replaced by an already created and established character, Hawke. Hawke can be male or female, mage, rogue or warrior – but they are only human. We are ripped off of the option of choosing between races.

And that's not the only thing the game takes away from us – we are used to travel around Ferelden, searching for allies, to fight the Archdemon, because the End is Nigh and we Must Save the World united with friends and so on – here, it's just a city. We only get to know Kirkwall, a Free Marches city that used to be owned by the Imperium and now rejoices in its so-called freedom. Kirkwall consists in some neighborhoods and some notorious buildings, but that's it. It's just the city. And I daresay, it's another protagonist of the game.

Yes, you get to go outside a few times – you even go through the ( I don't know WHY) still mandatory Deep Roads quest and whatnot – but the main storyline will still happen inside the city walls.

And that's… not so bad. But I'll get there in a moment.

So you play as Hawke, the older sibling of the Hawke family. You're escaping from Lothering, which you may remember from Origins – yes, it's the same town you visit right after Ostagar. Lothering has been overrun by darkspawn and so you take your mother and your two younger twin siblings with you: Carver, a warrior, and Bethany, an apostate mage.

In your way to the port, you come across Aveline, a well seasoned captain, and her husband Wesley, a templar. Wesley isn't in a very good condition but you still allowed them both to join your escape.

It isn't so long before the darkspawn reach you, and you make your last stand here.

Now, in this part of the prologue, what matters the most is the class you chose for Hawke. If Hawke is a mage, Bethany, the other mage, will perish at the hands of the ogre that is leading this barricade of darkspawn. If Hawke is a warrior/rogue, it will be Carver the one who makes the ultimate sacrifice so his family would survive. As I have stated in my Inquisition review, I love mages, so of course I created a mage Hawke, and so I watched Bethany, so young and rebellious, die in front of my eyes (Wesley, Avelin's husband, dies as well but we don't care much for him sorry not sorry).

Choosing a class isn't a minor or just a gameplay thing here, because it leads to two very different stories. Carver is resentful with you, he blames you for the death of his twin, and he can't get over the idea that you (and him, as well) are being hunted by templars. He can even become a templar if you choose the required options – so ironic, you a mage and your own brother a templar! His inferiority complex makes it really hard to get on well with him. Bethany, on the other hand, seems to care more for her older sibling, and bears a great admiration for their father, who was a mage and the one who taught her everything. She's guilty over the fact her family is doing everything they can to protect her from the templars and the Circle, and her attitude towards Hawke always follow that line. Her destiny has more options than Carver, though, so it makes me think that maybe Bethany was the "canon" sibling who survived – Still, I always play as a mage so I'm used to Carver by now and it feels kind of contradictory to see Bethany alive and well.

Amidst the chaos, a dragon appears, stretching its wings – it destroys the rest of the darkspawn, and soon we see that it's not just a beast. It transfigures into a human, quite known for us DA's fans: Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, Morrigan's mother. She's saved us, but of course she wants a little favor in return, nothing too problematic. For those who are wondering "but HEY I killed Flemeth in Origins", well this encounter happens before you do that. And if you know anything about Flemeth is that she always comes back.

Finally, you reach destination, the almighty Kirkwall, with its columns that seems to go on forever into the sky. Here, you'll start over. Here, you'll pave your way to your future. And the plot begins!

The story is divided into three well marked acts: the first Act you'll be saving money to go on an expedition to the Deep Roads to gain enough coin and reclaim the Hawke estate in Kirkwall; the second Act has you going around playing the diplomatic link between the Viscount and the Qunari who have made the city their headquarters; and the third Act, well, everything blows up. Literally, I might add.

Between the prologue and Act 1, one years passes. Between Act 1 and 2, three more years go by; and finally, Act 3 happens three years later as well. The whole story takes up like 8 years or more inside the same city. This… wasn't a good decision on the developers, in my opinion, but I'll say it after I talk a little about the characters.

First we have Hawke, our Champion. Their personality varies between diplomatic – sarcastic – upfront and direct. And this time is easier to know because gone are the days with the many responses available and now we have the wheel which shows you an icon displaying the "tone" of your reply. If there's something common across all the Hawkes you can create, is that they care for their family, they want to recover what's theirs, and there's no stopping them. They are loved by those around them and seen as a leader. Loyalty is a powerful word here, which will play a big part in the final act, because only those who are truly loyal to you will remain by your side. And it's endearing, really, to see the support of those characters that accompanied you the whole game. Oh, and they have voices. I say this because in Origins we have a silent protagonist (which took me aback considering I played Inquisition and 2 prior), and they are so well portrayed it makes them more human and approachable.

Now that we are on that topic, voice acting here is just FLAWLESS. I can't get over Gideon's voice for that stupid elf damn it.

Alright so, just like in the other games, you can recruit companions. I already spoke a little about Carver and Bethany, who are playable… for a time, at least.

This is the first time we come across Varric, our favorite storyteller. Varric isn't only just your best bud for life here, but he's also the one telling Hawke's story: he'd been abducted by Cassandra Pentaghast (yes, the one from Inquisition) who wants to interrogate him about the Champion. Varric is like your north in the game, he's always there for you, he's always supporting you, he doesn't take sides, he's funny, he's welcoming and he cares so much that I want to hug him. Goodest best friend forever.

Aside from him, you'll be crossing paths with Aveline again, now a soldier in the guard. Aveline is the correct type of person: she takes pride in her job, she wants things to get done well, following the rules. She respects honor, dignity and justice, and she doesn't approve of taking advantage of "illegal" situations and underground activities. If she's on your good side, you'll get a great supporter and a great friend, who will got your back, always.

Fenris is an elf who comes from the Tevinter Imperium – if we know anything of Tevinter apart from its blood mages, it's that they are slavers. Fenris used to be a slave who managed, somehow, to escape from his master. He bears a burning hatred towards the Vints, mages and every slaver out there. He always remarks he's a free man and he will disapprove of your support for the mages or any kind of sympathy towards slavery. So much so, that I started my relationship with him in -10 because I was a mage.

Merril is a dalish elf whom you'll be recruiting after finishing Flemeth's little favor. Merril is a blood mage, and she doesn't see the demons as enemies, but rather friends. She intends to leave her clan and go live in the city, because she's sure she can help her kin from outside instead of remaining cloistered and secluded inside. This will grant her the dislike of all her clan's members, but that doesn't stop her. She's naïve, she doesn't seem to understand most of human customs, and she's quite direct because she can't see through sarcasm or white lies. She's the purest of the team, although her abilities may tell you otherwise.

Isabela isn't new for us, if you come from Origins. Here she'll be joining us again after losing her ship. Her intentions remain a mystery most of the game, but let's just say she's quite involved with the plot of the second act. She's a forced to be reckoned with: she doesn't mess around when things need to be done and she gets them done in her own way. I'm still a bit spiteful about her because she abandoned my team after the second act, although I thought I was doing everything right!

Sebastian is only available through the Exiled Prince DLC – he's a chantry brother whose family was brutally murdered and his estate back in Starkhaven lies headless. He's conflicted about whether to remain in the chantry or go back to reclaim his land. He's righteous, he doesn't accept any rule breaking and, to be honest, he's pretty dull – specially if you're trying to romance him only because of those shiny blue eyes. The fact that he only joins you after Act 1 supports this allegation, in the way that he's not available through the first part for party banter, which always adds a lot of more depth to the characters you're playing with.

And at last… we have Anders. For those of you who played Origins' expansion, Awakening, Anders isn't a new character either. This time, though, it's not just Anders: he's possessed by a spirit of Justice, the same Justice we meet in Awakening. Anders remains in control most of the time, but when he loses it or when he enters the Fade, it's Justice the one who takes over. Anders serves as a healer in Kirkwall, helping refugees for free. He wants to move on from his past as a Grey Warden and he fights for the rights of the mages who are being hunted by the templars. Oh, man, of course I would fall for the subversive mage! Boy was I deceived… He plays a large role in the final battle, which, depending on your choices and your principles, will change your view of him forever. Let's just say that he's a pretty hated character in the franchise.

In this game you'll have choices as well, and your comments and actions will bear points of friendship or rivalry with your companions. This doesn't mean that if you get 100 rivalry points with one of them they'll abandon you, no, it doesn't work like in Origins or in Inquisition. Here you have to see the bar in both directions: the closer it is to one of the extremes, the better. The danger zone is the central one: if you have little points of friendship or of rivalry, the companion is likely to abandon you. This is what happened to me with Isabela: I had a good chunk of friendship points with her, but it seems I needed to max them out, which I didn't, and thus she flew away, goodbye. You can even romance characters with high rivalry points, and their romance plays a little different because of it. As it says, it's "rivalry" and not "deep hatred with death wishes", so maybe it spices some things up in your relationship.

Each companion will have their own questline that stretches across all three acts, and if you want to have all your team available by the end of the game, I recommend you do them. Although… well, you won't have the whole team, but I won't spoil it for you.

So I mentioned before I would talk about why the eight year story decision wasn't a good take for me after speaking a little about the characters – well, it's simple. In those three year gaps, the story acts as if nothing happens. Yes, sometimes the characters say "hey, I haven't seen you in a while" or "that thing happened three years ago" or whatever, but it doesn't work well. For instance, if you romance Fenris, you'll sleep with him in the second act, and then he goes away, seemingly not wanting to continue with the relationship. Three year pass, and then you resume your romancing with him, and he's like "yes, idk why I left that night I so regret it lol" DUDE, you're like just two meters away from Hawke's house, are you truly telling me you didn't talk to them after what happened in these three years?

The story plays as if there are no gaps in time. In fact, if you take away Varric's narration, which states that x amount of time happens between act and act, you won't even notice it! And that's the thing: I don't know why they chose to do this. I mean, I guess I understand the point, they wanted Hawke to make their own name, to be known and loved by the citizens as years went by, they wanted them to start in rags and rise to fortune, I get it. But something similar was accomplished with the Inquisitor in the third game: time passes, I believe almost a year, and you feel the love and respect you've earned from your companions. It didn't take my Inquisitor eight years for that. It didn't even take her half a month to get Cullen in love with her ok sorry. What I mean is, the eight years thing isn't well developed, and characters act as if no such time had passed, and the story is planned as well like that. It's almost as though they wanted to stray as far as possible from Origins in terms of design and choices, which is a great idea, but some things just don't add up.

For example, in Inquistion's expansion, Trespasser, two years have passed. And here you see, you feel that your characters have been away for long. They've all been following their own paths and when they finally reunite they catch up and speak about their futures and what they want for themselves. It truly feels like two years have passed. There's a huge impasse between the ending and the expansion, which marks a milestone, and you can understand why all these characters haven't seen each other for a while. Whereas between Act 1 and 2… it's like… yeah we went to the Deep Roads and yeah… hmm… Varric really three years and you still didn't hear of your brother or… wait is this letter by Carver just sent? I mean he's been away too long now but he could always send me letters why wait three years…. and so on. It breaks the continuity. In fact, it doesn't only do that, but it also makes your characters stupid. Are you telling me Anders has been in love with me for three years and he still hadn't done anything?? What are you, fifteen?

But apart from that, I believe this game is really good. I enjoyed it from beginning to end. I enjoyed the mechanic regarding your siblings: their appearance changes depending of what preset for the face and skintone you choose for Hawke. I like the idea that only one of the twins is available throughout the game. I like that the gameplay has been improved from Origins, I love that as a mage you feel so destructive with all those spells, I love that it's fast paced and more colorful. I got also really involved with some of the companions, specially Anders, Fenris and Aveline. I love that, even though they may disagree with you on some topics, they still remain by your side if you were a good friend, because that's what friendship's about. Friendship/rivalry here feels like a human thing, something quite relatable, instead of just shoving gifts onto your companion so they'd like you better. I like that somehow all of your companions are entangled with what happens in the city, and this leads me to my final point about why DA2 is still a good game.

Kirkwall. Our vedette. Our goddess. Kirkwall is the scenario for 90% of the events of the game. We're not saving the world here. We just want the peace for the city. Who should rule? Whose forces should Hawke support? Is Hawke good enough to be Viscount? Are the templars doing a good job? Or is Knight-Captain Meredith going too far?

Political intrigue. And just one city. Not all of Ferelden. Just one bad person trying to control the strings in this small portion of land, not an army of zombies or a dragon ready to consume the world. I love that the plot is just restrained to this small thing, because it lets you go deeper into everyone's stories, and it doesn't mean that it gets less epic, on the contrary. I enjoyed the final boss here way more than I did with Corpypheus in Inquisition. Here Meredith has an actual goal and she's acting upon what she thinks it's right, and at some point and to some extent, she's right! But her methods are questionable, in the least. She's not just a bad guy for the sake of being a bad guy, like it happens with Corypheus. She's bad, but she has her reasons.

You don't get to know a lot of people, because you just know those who live in Kirkwall. The familiarity, the warmth of its streets, it's like you've been living there as well, sharing with these characters and learning about their pasts. Instead of allowing you to see a huge picture with hundreds of characters involved, you just focus on those you care about, explore them more in depth. Sometimes covering everything doesn't lead you anywhere, so it might be better with just a handful of well written plot points and characters.

I'm not saying that Origins is the worst because of this, because it seems like I'm hating on it. In fact, I can't still speak much of it because I haven't finished my route yet (although I know how it ends). I'm just saying that Origins is good, that Inquisition is good, and that DA2 is also good. It's different, but still a good game. Sometimes you're tired of playing as the chosen one hero who must save the world, and maybe saving one city is enough for your heroic career.

I loved the game. I loved that it pushed my beliefs of helping the mages to the limit, to the point of questioning myself. I loved that it played tricks on me like that with the romance option. I loved the sarcastic Hawke, such a well written script. Also, Cullen is here so of course I'd love it.

Just… don't hate it that much. And if you still haven't played it, give it a shot. You might be surprised.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #da2 #dai #dao #bioware #hawke #anders #varric #fenris #videogame #videogame review #review #gamer #ea games

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karenhikari · 5 years

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The Ones Who Wander-11. The Hawk and the Hare

Hello, folks! I know, I know, I am the absolute worse at updating, I know. There's no point in apologizing, but if you do want to know, the reason it has taken so long is that I am currently undergoing a college admission process, so... everything is a mess and I am attending courses and doing projects at school and adulting sucks. But just that. To be entirely honest, I only received this chapter back from my beautiful beta yesterday, after having sent it to her a couple of months ago. Geminalupus wanted me to tell you that she is extremely sorry that it took so long to update but, to be honest, it wasn't her fault. It took me forever to write this down, it is only fair that it took her a few months to finish reading it through.

Now, the reason I just couldn't seem to get this chapter written is that, for the first time (spoiler alert) you get to read from the perspective of one of the heroes rather than from the kids. And let me tell you, this hero in particular had a lot to say about the politics and inner workings of Auradon. And... I hate politics, so... it was a bit troublesome. Things starting flowing better once she had given her opinion on the Head King of Auradon.

Either, this chapter is very, very special to me and I had waited a long time to write it. Remember, nearly a year ago, when I published Ginny's chapter? Well, I actually considered writing this chapter first and ignoring the structure I had already planned, simply because this one is more special to me. However, I like order, so I continued with the plan.

Anyways, i have kept this chapter from you long enough. Now... enjoy!

The Hawk and the Hare

There were many ways a woman such as Elsa Danica of Arrendelle and Vistborg could spend her day. Waiting in an overcrowded wharf was certainly not an option she would have thought of, much less chosen. However, that prospective became an even less satisfying alternative when the sole purpose of her journey was to pick up the child —or children, as that important information had been withheld from her— of the man who had tried to take over her kingdom and murder her younger sister.

To her, at least, this was glaringly a bad idea. That was it—put simply, retrieving the descendants of their worst enemies was the most questionable decision the current Head King of Auradon had made. It made absolutely no sense and, worst of all, it was dangerous.

In fact, Elsa did not approve of a number of things the previous Head King, Adam, had done either. To begin, the Isle of the Lost as a whole. She knew their adversaries could not be mended or rehabilitated. To expect something like that was incongruous, and, dare she say it, idiotic. Therefore, she could see why the Islanders should not be trusted to live within their society. She was not defending their right to freedom.

The thing was, neither could she understand why Adam and Belle had determined that a giant island be brought from the sea. She could not understand why Adam and Belle had decided that their aggressors, who had already been executed and exterminated, should be brought back to life. It was taking an unnecessary risk.

Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles, the thirteenth son of late King Fridtjof had never been dead. Even after Elsa had frozen and thawed the fjords of Arrendelle, Hans had only left Arrendelle with a black eye, which was Anna's courtesy, not even Elsa's. For three years, before the Crown Kings of Auradon had developed the idea of the Isle of the Lost, Hans had been kept in a dungeon under Rolskrod Palace, what could have been his castle if he had not been so eager to take over someone else's throne. Not even shackled like Elsa had been in her own kingdom, not even sent to jail to be surrounded by common thieves in a congested cell. No, privileged even as a prisoner, Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles had only been kept in an oubliette for three years and two months, not that Elsa had been counting.

Then, Elsa was still struggling to comprehend exactly how, Adam and Belle had announced their new plan. The creation of a considerable extension of land, brought from the bottom of the sea to its surface through magic. At the time, the magic prohibition hadn't been as strong as it was now. In fact, the hearsay and rumors of Fayanna's idea to regulate and possibly eliminate the usage of magic in everyday life had barely begun, a rotten apple in a fruit bowl that would blemish everything that came in contact with it.

Somehow, the ludicrous idea had been approved by the council. Fayanna, the most trusted advisor of the Head Kings, was named the coordinator of the project a few weeks after the announcement. They wasted no time in beginning the arrangements to transform their absurd plan something tangible. Immediately, they began recovering the remains of the deceased villains, drawing maps to decide where to put what they started to call 'the Isle' with something that already sounded like dread. They summoned villains such as Anastasia Tremaine and Hans Westergaard himself, the ones who had been leading a relatively normal life and the ones who had been kept isolated in jail, to inform them of the plans to relocate them.

Elsa knew she would not get a chance to punish Hans the way she wanted to, she knew there were laws and political logistics that stopped her from being able to unleash her wrath on the runt of the Southern Isles dynasty. And, in the same matter-of-fact, concise, precise way, she knew someone like him, so unsympathetic and indifferent would be incapable of changing. Elsa was convinced that all of them, who had already attempted to murder and sabotage everything others held dear would not change and, therefore, they should be kept away.

Elsa absolutely comprehended the need for a prison that kept the villains away from the good, hard-working part of the population. It made sense and it was in such a way that society had operated for centuries. You had to trim the weak branches of a rose bush for the plant to stay healthy and bloom. She could understand that.

What was beyond her discernment was the fact that Belle and Adam had decided to put all of those villains together, in the same place, which would either allow them to annihilate each other or to create alliances that made them more perilous than they had been the first time they had attacked. For years, each nation had kept their own villains imprisoned, they had each been responsible for punishing the offenders that they produced and preventing the story to repeat itself. However, now that more kingdoms were joining the United States of Auradon, the Head Kings claimed it would be better to create a new confinement to hold them all. It lacked every possible ounce of reason and coherence there was, if you asked the Queen of Arrendelle, and she had been quick to voice her opinions.

To be entirely honest, Elsa had never concurred with the ideology that Fayanna had drilled into Adam. The king was slightly older than Elsa, that was true, but he had also spent much of his youth deprived of human contact and mistreating his serfdom. The Queen of Arrendelle was in no position to judge what he had done while transformed into a beast. She knew that she had, too, committed despicable actions while she was too concentrated on keeping her powers a secret to wholeheartedly care about her people like she should have. However, that did not give Adam the right to have such a strong say in what other rulers did as he seemed to think he had.

Nevertheless, it wasn't long before smaller provinces like Prydain and Maldonia decided to accept the tempting offer of joining Adam's more powerful kingdom. According to Adam, he had the dream of a united kingdom, ruled by a head king that would make sure that all the other smaller sovereigns followed certain regulations. United they would be stronger, he claimed. United they would preserve peace and worship loyalty.

In theory, it sounded fair and good and tempting. By becoming one single humongous kingdom, they would share resources, eliminate the competition and considerably reduce the number of possible future wars. They would have laws and a higher power in charge of preventing disagreements from escalating to military combats. In theory, it sounded adequate, unobjectionably safer.

What Elsa was not keen on, however, was the idea of an almighty power who would be on her back, reading her reports and monitoring her. Adam had suggested an aristocratic democracy then. Yes, royal families still had significant privileges when compared to their subjects, but it was only because a prince or a duke had been trained to care for their people from a tender age. The bearer of such great power should also possess enough knowledge and responsibility to know how to properly use it, and members of the nobility were expected to know how to fulfill that role.

Adam had then gone on to be democratically elected as the first Head King of the United States of Auradon. He had sold the idea of an egalitarian, peaceable kingdom to small provinces that were in a competitive disadvantage. And they had hungrily bought it. Nonetheless, it had only been a matter of time before bigger and more recognizable kingdoms began to sign treaties and agreements, until most of the European kingdoms joined Adam in the search of his 'dream'.

Elsa signed the treaty for Arrendelle to become part of Auradon barely six months after Corona, her cousin's kingdom. It would only take Adam a year and a half more to get the Chinese empress, Ching Shih, to sign as well. With that, the United States of Auradon as they knew it was finally formed.

Some small provinces were still independent. Motunui, for example had blatantly refused to join Auradon, and mostly kept for themselves. Neverland, too, was not considered a part of the kingdom, although they were much more open to commerce and tourism than Motunui. Wonderland was out of the table as well, and though the inhabitants made an exception about their 'no visit' policy for Alice and her family, even she rarely visited.

It was shortly after the merging of their country that Adam began making decisions that seemed... nonsensical, to say the least. There were two proposals that Elsa had both loathed and feared from the first time she had heard the words leave Adam's mouth. One was the creation of Isle of the Lost. The other was the prohibition of magic.

Despite the fact that not every sovereign the United States of Auradon had approved of either of those propositions, the majority of them had. Therefore, Adam and Fayanna's little experiment carried on. After an odd —and, she said it with fear of being accused of treason, an obscure— agreement with Hades, the deceased villains were brought back to life and confined to an island. The Isle of the Lost, they called it now, with pride, with dread, with arrogance. The Isle of the Lost, a living reminder that their enemies still lived, waiting to retaliate against them.

The ones who had never been dead to start with were sent to join them soon after. To close with a flourish —and, supposedly, to prevent any outbreaks—, it had been decreed that a barrier be put around the island. Nothing could get in and, they swore, nothing could come out.

Fayanna recruited a vast number of adjutants, as her proposition was incredibly dangerous and impossible to do for a single person. Merlin, Tinker Bell, the Genie, even Zeus, the almighty King of Olympus, had assisted in the creation and maintenance of the barrier. Elsa's magical powers did not suit the undertaking, and therefore she had not been contacted or asked to participate. She wanted to believe that she would have refused to participate in the creation of the barrier even if she could have been able to help them.

Regardless of how, or who had supported such ludicrous idea, the Isle of the Lost had come to exist. Soon, both the formerly deceased villains and the perfectly alive ones were living in their new imprisonment. In a way, it helped Auradonians ―a gentilic Elsa was still trying to get used to―, in the laborious and often arduous task of forgetting. They didn't mention the island that was so close to Auradon's capital city that it could literally be seen from Auradon Castle's windows. They never mentioned the names of the sorcerers and witches that had once terrorized their people, not when the inscrutable veil of night covered their lips, not when the golden rays of sunshine bathed the marble of their castles. They pretended not to remember why Cinderella did not fit in during royal parties, why Aurora referred to three fairies as her 'aunts', why, out of the thirteen princes Fridtjof had fathered, only ten had still lived in the Southern Isles when the United States of Auradon became a glorious nation. They pretended and, even after all those years, their performance was dreary and extremely apathetic.

Likewise, Elsa had long ago learned the dialogues of the character she had been assigned to play. She smiled and she curtsied, she read letters and she signed commerce treaties with a languid hand, going through monotonous days in a haze. She kissed her sister's cheek and she threw her arms around her nieces and nephew with remorse, knowing that there were words that she held concealed under her tongue, adamant in her refusal to pronounce them.

It had been probably thirteen years since the last time anyone in her family had dared mention the disappearance of her cousin, Rapunzel of Corona. They met regularly, they celebrated their birthdays and they sent letters back and forth during the whole year. They always made it a point to spend both Christmas and New Year's Eve together, be it at Corona or at Arrendelle. Yet, they failed to talk about the eighteen years worth of memories and laughter that they had lost.

Elsa knew it made it easier, because Anna and she didn't talk about the years they had spent barely speaking to each other, about the searing pain that still burnt in their chests, too tangible and too recent. Anna, in her kindness and unconditional love for her never brought back how cruel she had been to her, she never mentioned a single one of the thousands of days she had spent, numbly knocking on the wooden door of an unhearing sister. They had learned —they had been forced to learn— to live in the moment and to embrace what they had because they could just as easily lose it, because they hadn't had it before and they wanted to make the most of it now that they did.

Thereby, Elsa could not blame them for tucking every agonizing reminder of their past lives under Persian rugs. If the memories of what had happened to other heroes aggrieved them as much as it still made her insides turn, if guilt and ache still blazed their eyes whenever they could not force themselves to forget, then she could understand their reasons. She had come so close to losing Anna, so close to feeling the remaining pieces of her family slip between her fingers… it only made sense that the other heroes yearned for this numbing relief.

For all that they didn't talk about it, the insistent, constant query of what would have happened if Hans' murderous plan had succeeded was a shadow that accompanied Elsa's steps both in the death of night and in the warmth of the morning. It wondered aloud, unrelenting, unstoppable, what would have happened if Anna had actually died, what if Hans' sword had impeccably severed the Queen of Arrendelle's neck, what if Hans had sat at the throne of a kingdom that was not his to claim. The thought never failed to make a striking pang of guilt and ache pierce her chest.

If anything, waking up every morning to the love of her people and to the sight of her family at the breakfast table only made the burning remorse blaze higher. It made her wonder what would have happened if she had failed to protect all of it, if her own fear had been greater than her resolution. It forced her to ask herself what would have been of Anna's unrestricted laughter, of the way Kristoff played "the Ballad of Flemmingrad" during Christmas Eve, his wonderful, sincere eyes locked with his wife's.

And every time, every single time that that thought, unwelcomed, shattering and irrepressible assaulted her, the Queen of Arrendelle found herself unable to move, unable to breathe. Elsa could understand the need to forget. She felt that pulsing desire often. She, too, wished she could take a long, exhausting walk in the woods, dig a hole under a centenary Betula alba and extract the incessant questions that plagued her mind to bury them, never to be heard of again.

Forgetting was the feeling of a warm, knit quilt for the traveler that had been surprised by a snowstorm on the road. Forgetting was the simple joy of meeting with an old friend you hadn't seen in a terribly long while and having the chance to talk to them carefree for hours that elongated indefinitely. Elsa knew that.

However, she knew that, in the same way that pouring her pain-stricken memories into a hypothetical grave was impossible and hoping to do so was fruitless, dumping all of their villains into a magical, faraway island, would not heal the wounds that were still open and festering within their silk robes. She had learned, the hard way, ones would call it, that not speaking about the shadows that haunted the high towers of their castles would only bring desolation. There was no way, no way that putting all the demons and the ghosts of a kingdom as big as Auradon in the same place could be a good idea.

Adam and Fayanna clearly did not share her belief. Neither did most of the inhabitants of Auradon. The Isle of the Lost gave them a solution, the answer to never once feeling your pulse raise in fear again. They would trim the weak branches of their perfect rose bush, they would focus on teaching the new generation about the mistakes that they should not repeat. How they would do that without mentioning the hard-learned lessons that Elsa's generation had endured, she had no idea, but they would find an answer along the way. They built new schools, they wrote books about the real-life love stories of their sovereigns, they widened the commerce among their provinces, they tightened the bonds that united their people.

They promised, time and time again, that this would be a bright, new beginning. The renaissance, they said, of a strong, fearless kingdom.

—*—*—

Regrettably, forgetting was not an easy deed to achieve. Especially not if the source of your agonizing memories was a living, breathing individual. Such a thing became glaringly obvious once the villains that had been casted aside, supposedly never to be thought of again, began to sire children, much in the same way that the inhabitants of Auradon did.

Life could not be tossed under a rug, no matter how much will power you put in trying to turn a blind eye to that fact. Life found a way to push, to crawl back from the depths of the blazing inferno you built to annihilate it. A way to be remembered. That was what happened at the Isle of the Lost.

As soon as the word that there were babies being born in the island spread, the extinct embers of the uncertainty some people had felt towards the project fired up all again. Esmeralda de Châteaupers, who had never agreed with the scheme to send the villains to a completely different land, began advocating even more relentlessly to make her voice heard. To an extent, Elsa supposed she had succeeded. Everyone in Auradon had heard of Esmeralda. She was the face of the victims of Claude Frollo, the representative of the gypsy community in France. She became part of the Council of Sidekicks. Even more, she was the official spokesperson of the council. Parallel to that, by marrying Captain Phoebus de Châteaupers she had managed to refine her social status, which had allowed her to voice her opinions even more loudly.

Elsa knew a good number of members of the royalty who found Esmeralda unbearable, insufferable. After all, kings and queens whose bloodlines went back centuries in the past refused to let other kings order them around. It was only natural that they became fuming when it was someone with a social status so low as a gypsy's the one who dared suggest they were doing something wrong. And that proved Esmeralda's point bright and clear—none of them were focusing their energies on solving the scarcities of Auradon, the shadows of inequality that still roamed around the corners of the castles and the tents of gypsies' camps, because they were too busy criticizing Esmeralda's attire and lack of prestige.

Some called Esmeralda an activist, a gentle woman with the heart of a warrior. Elsa didn't eulogize her as much. She didn't dare despise Esmeralda due to her poor upbringing, although she was not about to admire or support her causes either. Simply, Elsa thought that she was a strong woman who felt no trace of fear for what the others thought of her, and for that, gypsy or not, she deserved recognition.

To the long list of problematics she withstood on a daily basis, Esmeralda augmented the injustice of leaving the children of the Isle of the Lost in a prison. She claimed it was inexcusable, unethical, unjustifiable. She claimed that it would backfire, that the time would come when they were children no more, but creatures who festered on the fear and decay that seemed to constitute the main columns of their rotten society. She said, over and over again during the council meetings, that making children pay for the mistakes of their parents was as low as someone could get, that it spoke great lengths that their 'strong, fearless kingdom' had to be upheld in the aching shoulders of children.

Cinderella and a number of other royal personalities agreed with her. Still, Adam and Fayanna turned a deaf ear to their pleas and refused to move a finger to fix the situation. After two or three years, Esmeralda received the help of Corona, and they were granted Auradon's permission to send supplies to the Isle. They were hand-me-down clothes and nearly-spoiled food, but it was better than nothing.

Truthfully, Elsa considered Esmeralda's words to be an exaggeration. Esmeralda was too passionate, too quick to grant her unwavering support to a cause she did not fully comprehend. And, to be entirely honest, Elsa was a firm believer that there was no reason for her to be concerned with the conditions of the Isle of the Lost, when she had never even agreed with the creation of such thing. There was no reason for her to divert the resources of her people to try to fix the situation of the ones who had tried to destroy her kingdom and her family.

Eugene, who had concurred with Esmeralda as soon she said that no child should be allowed to grow in fear and indifference, had been assigned to get the supplies to the Isle. Every once in a while, Eugene and Rapunzel convinced Anna to donate a ship worth of food or of clothes, and Elsa allowed it. Nonetheless, the queen of Arrendelle had refused to listen to Esmeralda during the meetings, she had adamantly rejected each of the gypsy's attempt to make her consider the injustice that the Isle of the Lost represented on itself.

That was how things had been for the last seventeen years. Now, when Adam finally decided to step down from the throne, it turned out that his own son would be the one to 'democratically' succeed him. The Queen of Arrendelle was well-acquainted with young Benjamin. She had practically watched him grow, as both of them belonged to the royal families of Auradon. She knew the boy had a kind heart, and she was certain that everything he'd done until then was only fueled by good intentions and a utopic imagination. However, he was simply too inexperienced to handle the pressure of becoming the Head King of a territory as big and tumultuous as the United States of Auradon.

It seemed that Benjamin also questioned the decisions Adam had made during his reign, howbeit he did so for a different reason than the one the Queen of Arrendelle had to oppose the former king. Benjamin, who had only ever seen the good in the world, was incapable of comprehending how dangerous allowing the children of the villains into their domains was. He was part of Auradon's next generation, the one who had read the real-life love stories of their provinces' sovereigns in school textbooks, the one who had never feared the second the sun went down and ghosts roamed their palaces freely, the one that had only ever worn silk dresses and walked on marble castles.

Youth had blessed him with naiveness, and naiveness had cursed him with ingenuousness. Elsa knew with icy certainty that it was only a matter of time before the young prince's reverie caught fire in the flames of the villains' spite and turned into a nightmarish sight.

However, youth had also made Benjamin passionate, determined in a way that Elsa had to admire. If not for nothing else, she did so with sageness. That was the boy who would soon rule over them, they needed to redirect the fierce resolve of which he spoke about the children of the Isle of the Lost. Nonetheless, if he maintained it as the Head King of Auradon, he would be vehement and uncontainable. Notwithstanding the fact that Elsa praised a sovereign with such characteristic, she was far from blind. There would be no time for Benjamin to become a well-loved, wise monarch if his kingdom burnt to the ground mere days after his coronation. Still, the boy was set on his verdict, and there was no power on earth that could stop him from making his first decree as king a resolution to free the children of the Isle.

That time, for once, Elsa had wholeheartedly concurred with Adam. The Isle of the Lost had not been a good plan, not even at the beginning, but now that they had it, it was better to simply continue as they had until then. If anything, they could send more than leftovers, perhaps repair their old, crumbling bazaar and clean the rubbish obstructing the streets, but that was as far as Elsa was willing to go for the Islanders.

Benjamin, however, had not been dissuaded. He had refused to listen the life-hardened words of his advisors, he had ignored the, admittedly, more experienced opinions of older sovereigns, he had declined even the guidance of his parents. His outrageous project had been put into operation without losing a second of precious time. In mere months, the first four children of the Isle of the Lost were brought to live among them, in Auradon. And of course, being the idealistic boy he was, Benjamin had decided that the children of that most dangerous villains be the first ones to be relocated.

Contrary to what Elsa had feared, the first stage of his decree had not been a complete failure. In fact, the first scandal the Isle children had been involved with was when Mal, the only known daughter of Maleficent, began to fool around the no-magic rule. She was testing the limits, of that Elsa was certain. The queen had to admit it, she was amused, and she could hardly look down at Mal with scorn or qualm, for she firmly discouraged that prohibition herself. In fact, she considered the no-magic rule more a suggestion than an actual commandment.

It was simply ridiculous, to say the least. The fact that Fayanna, a magical being herself, a fairy who felt magic thump on her jugular and tickle the tips of her fingers, could even fathom over the idea that revoking their right to use the magic that was naturally, rightfully theirs was risible, absurd. Even worse, it was alarming and threatening.

The official reason for this new rule was 'to teach the new generation of Auradonians that magic was not a panacea, but a tool that had to be used scarcely. It was only their wit and creativity that would accompany them, their ability to do good that would forge the road for them to follow.' In summary, it was now seen as unfair that children born with the power to wield magic received the same education as children who were incapable of doing it. And, to promote equality, it had been decided that they should take away the 'advantage' of magic-natural children. Elsa huffed. Clearly, forbidding magical children to use their powers was fair. Clearly, they should take away their birth-right instead of offering non-magical children the possibility to learn magic in order for them to become sorcerers and witches.

Elsa had spent enough time denying the magic that coursed through her veins to simply accept Fayanna's outrageous rule. It had taken enough of her and her people to learn to live with her magic and accept the fact that her powers would not go away because they were part of her. If Fayanna thought she could simply come and order them to stop the use of their powers merely because she was the most beloved advisor of the Head King, she was dead-wrong.

Thereby, when the daughter of Maleficent began using her magic at Auradon Prep, Elsa was not counted in the number of people who felt their distrust towards the Isle children grow. If anything, she was amused. God knew how a girl who had been raised without the vaguest knowledge of magic had learnt how to wield it so rapidly. That, at least, was an admirable skill, and the Queen of Arrendelle had always praised when praise was due. Howbeit, whatever empathy-induced closeness she could feel for the daughter of Maleficent was not nearly enough to make her forget the Isle that girl had grown up in.

Surprisingly, it was not the children of the Isle of the Lost who had broken havoc during Benjamin's coronation. Jane, the very daughter of Fayanna, was the one who snatched one of the most powerful magical items from the hand of her own mother. Even more exceptional was it that the Isle children were the ones to stop Maleficent from utterly tearing apart Auradon Cathedral.

Perhaps, Elsa had caught herself thinking, Rapunzel was inerrant. Maybe Benjamin, with his naive cerulean eyes and the innocence of his youth, could see something that she had grown too hawkish to notice anymore. For a moment, she even allowed her mind to wrap around the conception that, perchance, Benjamin's decree was not as preposterous as it sounded.

Said resolution lasted less than three months, for it was after that time that Benjamin insisted that only the first stage of his decree had been carried out. It was time for the rest of the Isle children to be brought to Auradon, he insisted. That prospect was not appealing to the Queen of Arrendelle in the least.

They agreed on the need to send someone to the Isle of the Lost. To Elsa, it seemed they were testing the ground, making sure that the thin layer of ice that the recent snowstorm had formed on the surface of the lake was sturdy enough to step on it with their full weight. Without further ado, they designated the very daughter of Maleficent as the Ambassador of the United States of Auradon in the Isle of the Lost.

Rumors spread, vehement like wildfires, of the possibility of new children arriving from the Isle at the beginning of the next school year. Some of the Auradonians Elsa had spoken to had even began making theories about whose children would me the next to be brought to Auradon. Rapunzel, for example, had received notice that Gothel had sired a daughter, and she awaited the moment she would be able to meet the young girl with both dread and impatience

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Benjamin gave a press conference urging the hero families to 'Open their hearts and homes to the winds of change by enrolling themselves as tutors for one of the children of the Isle'. At the moment, Elsa had snickered. It was an outrageous proposition. To think, even for a second, that they would risk their families and kingdoms to welcome the offspring of their worst enemies was simply ridiculous. To ask from them that they put every ounce of normality and security it had taken decades to reconstruct on the line to receive the spawns of the ones who had tried to destroy their kingdoms was... unimaginable. Contumelious.

Notwithstanding, for a reason that the queen could not seem explain, it appeared that she was the only one seeing things that way. People like Esmeralda and Phoebus, who had been waiting for a sign that someone from the royalty had heard their appeal for years, immediately offered themselves to tutor even more than one child, if it were necessary. Rapunzel and Cinderella, along with their respective partners, were quick to follow their leads.

Soon, Benjamin's overture was not the only thing that had surprised the Queen of Arrendelle. In a matter of weeks, more Auradonian families than she would have thought agreed with such a ridiculous proposition were signing up to become the legal guardians of the Isle children. Even then, Elsa had clung on to hope that she would be able to escape this altruistic nonsense and keep her kingdom and family as far as possible from the Isle of the Lost and its inhabitants.

Said feeble faith came to an abrupt end one bright morning of spring, when Anna entered her office without even knocking, decision written on her features. She said she was putting her foot down, that they could not sit back while heroes of all the other kingdoms and provinces contributed to such an important change. She made it a point to insist that it had taken Auradon long enough to recognize the mistake the Isle of the Lost was, Arrendelle could not stay behind and be indifferent about this project.

When all of that failed to dissuade her sister, Anna added in an undertone, almost as if she were telling a secret, that Eugene had informed her that Hans had managed to have a son. Out of pure rage, Elsa had laughed. If Hans had a son, then that kid also had ten direct uncles who could look after him and receive him in the Southern Isles. The fact that Hans had spawned one, or two, or even ten children meant nothing to Elsa.

They had argued that morning, because they had both inherited their mother's stubbornness. When Anna's attempts to convince Elsa of pitying the children of the Isle failed, the princess' features became stern, distant and frigid in the same way marble statues were adamant and cutting. With precise words, she had reminded the queen of Arrendelle of the terrified, young girl that had been forced to remain incarcerated inside her room as the prisoner of a power she could not control. A prisoner, she said, as captive were the children of the Isle, expiating a crime they had not committed.

Anna knew her too well, Elsa was aware of it. It was usually of no concern to her, given the fact that she trusted her younger sister completely. She relied on Anna in the same way she knew a new morning would come after the sundown. To doubt Anna's loyalty was unthinkable.

On the other hand, there was no denying that Anna knew very well how to strike a low-blow when she felt the occasion called for it. Not whispering anymore, she dropped the one question that had haunted the queen of Arrendelle since she could remember—What are you so afraid of?

The vehemence of her words made Elsa step back and gasp for breath. Her hands shook when she answered that she feared not. It was a white lie, the tone of the virgin snow that crowned the mountains of their fjords, but it was the only answer Elsa could ever imagine herself giving. Admitting fear, even for a moment, was doubting her own ability to stop any damage from unfolding and harming her family. It was a weakness she could not allow herself to have.

Regrettably, Anna knew Elsa well-enough to not need the queen to voice the real reason behind her adamant negative. As soon as she noticed the profound impact her words had had on her sister, Anna's features softened. 'There is nothing to be afraid of', she had said. Elsa agreed, there was not—as long as they didn't take any unnecessary, reckless risks.

The only problem was that 'reckless' seemed to be Anna's middle name. Taking her sister's hands in hers, Anna had smiled at the queen of Arrendelle. She'd reiterated that it was not just to let children pay for mistakes they had not made. She decided to pressure Elsa further by asking her to not think of the children of the Isle as the offspring of their enemies, but as if they were only children, like any other in Auradon. Of course, Anna went a step further by mentioning her own son, Karl, and asking Elsa to imagine her little boy living under the conditions the children of the Isle were forced to survive in. Those had been her words. Not live, but survive in.

And, like Anna knew she would, Elsa had yielded. Her resolution had crumbled when faced with Anna's fiery resolve. The princess of Arrendelle was relentless, obstinate like no other, and she had never been one to take a 'no' for an answer. Added to that, she knew her sister thoroughly, she could interpret the thin line of Elsa's lips, a subtle sigh or a reluctant nod. Anna was not the kind of person to give up easily, and thus, she had insisted, pushing Elsa further and further until she knew it would be impossible for the queen to deny her request.

In honor of the truth, Anna had offered to be the one to travel all the way to France, so that she could pick up their new protégé, but Elsa had refused. After all, her sister was six months pregnant, and asking her to voyage in that state was not something Elsa felt comfortable with. They had not even been informed of how many children they were expecting or of whose descendants would henceforth be living with them, thereby, Elsa refused to endanger her sister like that.

The next safe option that would have lifted the burden off Elsa's shoulders would have been Kristoff. Given the fact that they were walking in a completely unknown territory, oblivious to the number of children they were expecting, to their ages and their parentage, asking her brother-by-marriage to pick up the child or children that had been assigned to them would have made things easier.

Certainly, a part of Elsa would have rested more easily, had Kristoff been in her place. After all, he was strong, steadfast, and could overpower a skilled, trained enemy. It was glaringly obvious that one, or even two teenagers, like the ones she had seen in the deck of the ship would be no match for him.

However, summer was approaching, being the number one purveyor of ice in Auradon, Kristoff's days had been increasingly hectic. Naturally, it would have been unthinkable and counterproductive to ask him to put his own responsibilities aside and board a plane to travel to a whole different country in order to pick up the offspring of their enemies. Then again, if they had bothered to ask Elsa her opinion, she would have answered that this whole project was poorly planned and loosely designed.

In the end, it all came down to the fact that Elsa could pass down her obligations to Anna, who would then stay safe at Arrendelle Palace. Conversely, Kristoff could not do so with his chores and leave for someone else to carry them on. That was why Elsa Danica of Arrendelle and Vistborg was standing in an overcrowded wharf.

In anticipation of this 'big day' ―that to her sounded more like a 'huge disaster'―, Anna had shipped their family carriage to Corona nearly a week earlier. Then, Elsa had boarded a plane, set to arrive at her cousin's kingdom, the day before. She had spent the night in the company of Rapunzel and her family, and, come morning, both of them had climbed on their own carriages and traveled from Corona to Auradon City. Elsa had to admit, Rapunzel had thought this whole project more thoroughly than she had, going as far as to take two carriages to Auradon City, in case one was not enough to take the children back to Corona. Of course, the queen of Arrendelle supposed that it only made sense. After all, Rapunzel had impatiently counted the days in her calendar for her to meet her new foster child—or children, the queen reminded herself. That hypothetical plural was too important to ignore. Elsa had, instead, dreaded the day and prayed to the Lord that He would change the minds of everyone involved in the relocation of the Isle children before it arrived.

The plan was that, after receiving their new protégé, they would travel by carriage to Denmark, where they would climb on a plane in order to return to Arrendelle. Rapunzel, always hospitable, had offered for Elsa to return to Corona with her and Eugene, so that they could leave the next morning, well-rested and refreshed, but Elsa had declined. Rapunzel and her family would have to deal with a villain child —or children— of their own, and Elsa simply wanted to return home as soon as possible.

'Soon', however, was a word that Elsa had not heard since arriving to Auradon City. The whole day had been hectic with Fayanna, Benjamin and the former kings giving announcements with big, unceremonious megaphones and handing out leaflets in land. Meanwhile, Maleficent's daughter ran from one side of the deck of the ship to the other, attempting to organize several dozens of teenagers with what seemed to be little success.

The children finally began to descend from the vessel nearly three hours after the scheduled time. The first ones to step on Auradonian land were probably Huns, judging by the way they were dressed. Afterwards came a flock of children that varied between the ages of four and eighteen, at least that's what it seemed to her. She recognized the Hook children. More correctly, she assumed they were the offspring of James Hook, given the fact that they were dressed in a poor attempt to imitate the pirate fashion and that Jane Rees was called to pick some of them up.

Not long after, the loudspeakers called her own cousin, Rapunzel. Elsa stayed at the plaza with Rose and Anxellin while Rapunzel and Eugene ventured to find their foster daughter. When they returned, they were accompanied by a black-haired girl. She wore a faded dress that had once been green, and the worn fabric clung to her bony frame, proving it was at least three sizes too big for her. Despite Rapunzel's upbeat attitude and Eugene's unfaltering smile, the girl that tailed behind them appeared uninterested and apathetic.

Unamused, Elsa simply raised an inquisitive eyebrow when Rapunzel introduced her as Ginny Gothel, her former captor's only daughter. At the mention of her mother, the girl simply huffed, although neither of the sovereigns of Corona seemed to pay any mind to it.

Soon after, Rose and Anxellin took matters into their own hands and offered to take Ginny to the carriages. It was a welcomed change of scenery, apparently, and the girl didn't argue against the proposition. Once they had left, Rapunzel insisted it would be a short while before they called Elsa, too, and she had to approach the wharf to meet her new protégé. The queen of Arrendelle, however, wasn't as convinced. They had never discussed the number of children that would be incorporated into Auradonian households, but she had certainly never imagined that it would ascend to more than fifty. She had been wrong, it was more than apparent.

It was at least two more hours, long after her cousin's family had left to begin their return to Corona, long after the time that Benjamin had promised, that Elsa's name was finally called. The pier had slowly emptied through the afternoon, as the children descended from the ship, and by the time the queen of Arrendelle was called, there were barely any people still at the wharf.

It seemed she had been granted the arguable honor of being the last of the heroes called to meet her protégé, she noted absently. Her theory was proven when, instead of simply guiding the islander down, Benjamin and Grimhilde's daughter descended of the ship first. The daughter of Maleficent followed, and the last member of the party was a young boy.

Soon, Elsa was introduced to the son of Hans, a sick-looking boy with milky skin and freckles dusted on his nose and cheeks. He did not seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, and he barely lifted his eyes from the ground when Grimhilde's daughter said his name. To be entirely honest, it was… disappointing, to an extent. Lame, almost. He had none of the raw fierceness Elsa had seen in Rapunzel's foster child or the bulky muscles and broad shoulders of the teenagers that had just left the dock in Megara's company.

Instead, the kid paled in comparison as he tailed behind the daughters of two of the most feared villains. He limped as he walked, and the dull sheen of his gaze seemed more resigned than defiant. He was considerably young, as well, probably not older than six. The only vague similarity Elsa could find between that boy and the young woman that Rapunzel had taken under her care was the extreme skinniness, which made the worn-away clothes hang loosely on their bodies.

All things considered, this was not what Elsa had expected to encounter. Yet, the resemblance this boy had with Hans was undeniable. He had the same deep green eyes and reddish hair, an identical, turned-up nose and thin lips, ready to spit out lies and deceive and betray. It should have been no surprise, Elsa supposed.

After all, Hans had never been the typical kind of villain either. He had none of Jafar's sinister eyes and dark magic, none of Ursula's maniacal laughter or power. Hans was a charming young prince, with lips that dripped honey and innocent eyes that enamored foolish girls. If Elsa had learned something out of this whole ordeal, it was that one could not trust appearances. And if that boy was anything like his father, then the guiltlessness in his gaze was nothing other than deception.

Nonetheless, Anna had somehow talked her into entering this insane project, and Elsa valued her word of honor too much to step back now. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. It was too late to refuse taking the child with her. If anything, she should be thankful that she didn't have to deal with a fully-grown teenager.

Endure, there was no other possible solution. Endurance and patience.

With a sigh that mixed both resignation and discomfiture, Elsa nodded her defeat and called Han's offspring over to her. If anything in this mishap was truth, that was the fact that Maleficent's daughter looked exhausted. It was no surprise, after she had been running around the wharf for the best part of the day. Elsa could at least recognize her effort and empathize with it, even if she was still against her charity project.

It seemed, however, that the kid was having second thoughts as well. With his eyes stubbornly glued to the floor beneath them and small fists clenched around the pleased cuffs of his shirt, he offered no answer to the queen when she called his name. In fact, he hardly seemed to be there at all, and neither did he reply in any way when both Grimhilde and Maleficent's daughters spoke to him. It was amusing, Elsa had to admit, that he did not seem an ounce more excited about the position they had found themselves in than she was.

Yet, duty was duty, and neither of them could refuse their luck. The kid seemed to understand that much, for he followed Elsa's lead without so much as a weary nod. He did not let out a single word, not even when Elsa inquired about his lack of luggage or when Grimhilde's daughter insisted that he was welcomed to ask any questions he might have.

The fact that this kid had been dropped under her care with, quite literally, nothing but the clothes he had on was a worry for when they got to Auradon. At least that was what Elsa thought, in her very honest opinion. For now, she would consider it a success if they managed to get to the carriage without any other incidents.

For the first time that day, it seemed that the God above had listened to her prayers. The pier was mostly empty, as was the parking lot. That fortunate happening was at least a comforting thought, if nothing else.

When they finally reached Arrendelle's royal carriage, Elsa allowed herself to internally claim a small victory over that deed. As soon as he saw them approach, Sigurd, Arrendelle's chauffeur, raised from his seat and hurried to hold the carriage door open for them.

"Thank you, Sigurd," the queen offered, flashing her loyal serf a brief smile that quickly dissolved into a strained gesture. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Henry. He is the son of former Admiral Hans Westergaard, the thirteenth son of late King Fridtjof," she recounted, feeling her tongue curl uncomfortably with the bitter stung of the words in her mouth. Perplexed, the driver started to part his lips as a response, but Elsa made a conclusive movement of her hand to let Sigurd know that it was not time to question about the boy's parentage. "And, Henry," she continued. "This is Sigurd, a beloved family friend and a versed server."

Again, the kid hardly bothered to lift his gaze from the floor to look in Sigurd's general direction. However, for the first time that day, his lips moved rapidly as he offered a timid reply. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, hurried and barely audible.

"My, you can speak," Elsa noted out loud before she could stop herself. As soon as she pronounced the words, she saw the boy minutely hunch his shoulders, almost as if an inaudible sigh had left his lips. "Forgive me, child, that was inappropriate," she immediately added. In a desperate attempt to change the topic, she stepped to the side of the carriage so that Han's son could step inside and gestured for him to climb into the vehicle.

Instead of answering, he reverted to simply denying with his head.

"No?" Elsa inquired. "What do you mean?"

"No, Your Majesty," he insisted. "I cannot board before you."

Elsa would have been lying, had she said his response did not throw her aback. Her eyebrows quirked upwards, and it took her a quarter of a millisecond longer than she would have liked to admit to collect her thoughts once again.

"I appreciate it, child, but I must insist," the queen reiterated. "I have to call someone before we leave, and I think you'll need a moment to settle in. By all means, go ahead."

This time, he dared not go against her direct instruction. He climbed into the vehicle after a moment of indecision. Elsa had not lied. She had, in fact, promised to call Anna as soon as she had news of who their new protégé would be. For what seemed to be the thousandth time that day, Elsa let out a tired sigh and then dialed the number she had long ago committed to memory. Anna picked up the phone almost immediately and welcomed her sister with a very unladylike shriek.

"Oh, goodness, Elsa! Where had you been? I tried calling you like ten times. I spoke with Zellie, what? Three hours ago? She said they were already leaving!"

"Indeed. Rapunzel left a while ago," the queen asseverated. "You just know my luck. I was literally the last person called to pick up the kid."

"Kid?" Anna questioned a heartbeat later. "I assume, then, it was only one child?"

"Only one," Elsa nodded. "And you won't believe who it is," before Anna even had time to guess who their foster child could be, the queen continued. "We were assigned Han's son."

"The little boy?"

"You're more informed than I am, it seems."

"Eugene has just mentioned some things," Anna brushed off. "You would know, too, if you paid attention to him when he speaks of the Isle instead of zoning out."

"I stand by what I have been telling you for months," Elsa insisted, adamant. "It is of no concern of mine who in the Isle of the Lost has spawned children or what has come of their offspring."

"Don't be like this, Elsa, you know better than anyone—"

"I just called to let you know we are on our way home. We should arrive tomorrow afternoon," she cut her off. "I'll let you know when we get to Denmark," she added as a second thought. Without letting Anna so much as gather her thoughts, Elsa hung up.

She would regret her actions later, she knew, once the coals of the fury that blazed inside her had cooled off. She would feel especially awful the following evening, once she got home and she stood face to face in front of Anna. Her sister had that quality, Elsa was more than aware of it. She knew her far too well and she could get her point across to Elsa with nothing other than a quirked eyebrow.

If anything, Anna wouldn't be resentful or upset at her for having reacted the way she had—she would be disappointed. And that burning knowledge was somehow worse than the prospect of a shouting match with her younger sister.

That was a problem for later, she reminded herself as she stepped into her carriage. She could not make plans of sailing overseas when she did not even have a ship to sail in. She would face the problems one at the time. And, in that precise moment, she needed to focus her energy on figuring out what to make of the boy that would be sitting right across from her for the next several hours.

She had told Benjamin that it would be a long and cold way to Auradon. The cold had never been an issue for her, but as for her first affirmation...

"Let's get going, Sigurd," she instructed, taking a seat on the unoccupied bench.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, with the reigns of the Norwegian Fjords* already prepared in his hands.

Elsa reminded herself to look at it from the positive side. Each of her steps was a step closer to returning home. With the comfort, however small, that that thought could provide her with, she slammed the carriage door closed. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she'd seen the kid flinch at the sound. She was more inclined to think it had been a product of her weary mind, because, when she consciously turned her eyes to the boy, he seemed frozen in place.

The first ten minutes of their journey scurried away in an awkward silence. Under regular circumstances, muteness or stillness were not things that bothered the queen of Arrendelle. After all, she had spent the best part of her teenage years living in loneliness. She was more than used to silence and solitude.

Yet, this time, there was something off about that quietness. According to the papers Maleficent's daughter had given her, the boy in front of her was only two years older than Anna's own son, Karl. However, she would not have guessed that the age gap between them was that small, considering how... unobtrusive Han's son was, for lack of a better word.

Karl, as Anna herself, was a chatterbox. He'd learned to speak way before his first birthday, and getting him to remain quiet and still was a challenge. God forgave you were traveling with him, for, in case you were misfortunate enough to be within hearing range from him, it'd be a long and seemingly never ending whining of 'Are we there yet? And now, and now? When are we going to arrive?'

His nephew was the only child Elsa frequently came in contact with, which indicated that perchance he was not a good parameter to measure every other child she encountered. However, there was something unnatural in the way Han's son carried himself. Whether it was because something was indeed out of place or merely because this boy was unfamiliar with his surroundings, Elsa might not know for a while. At least not until Henry trusted her and her family. What she knew with absolute certainty, however, was that this perfect stillness was making her uneasy. Perhaps that was why she took it upon herself to break the silence.

"This is your first time outside the Isle, aren't you excited?" She asked, giving further proof that she was not someone to be trusted when it came to social interaction.

The boy shrugged, weak and uninterested. "Scared," was his reply.

"Scared, huh?" She questioned, slightly amused. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Funny, she thought to herself, that she had echoed the exact same words Anna had used when she tried to convince Elsa to join this insane project. Even funnier it was that she was not an inch closer to believing those words than she had been when Anna had said them the first time. At the moment, with the water up to her neck, she reluctantly admitted that it most likely made no difference.

"Listen," Elsa announced a few minutes later. "We will get to Denmark tonight. We left Auradon City extremely late, as you can see, which, as a consequence, means that we will arrive to Denmark at some time in the wee hours of the morning."

She was aware that there was no reason why she should share such information with the boy. If anything, withdrawing such instruction could have proven beneficial to her, in case the son of Hans intended to retaliate against her for the rather humiliating banishment of his father. Under any other circumstances, she might have strongly advised against enlightening him with the knowledge of their appointed schedule.

On the other hand, it seemed to her extremely unlikely that the boy seating in front of her could be plotting anything like that. It could have been nothing but a tactic to deceive her, that possibility did not escape her mind. However, instead of a vicious vindicator, he only appeared to her as what he had described—scared. Curled up in his seat, as far as humanly possible from Elsa, his green eyes riveted to the queen, attentively watching each of her moves, he seemed lost, meager and afraid.

With that in mind, she figured that giving him a handful of solid datum to cling on to in the midst of the chaos could hardly be considered an important threat. In addition to that, even if he planned on attacking her, it would have been a terrible move to begin an assault when he possessed virtually no knowledge of the land he was standing on or the people he had been sent to fight against.

"And tomorrow," she continued, "at the crack of dawn, we are to board a plane to Arrendelle, my kingdom."

The only prove he have of having heard her was a half-hearted nod of his head. After that, the queen decided against adding anything else. They remained in silence for probably thirty more minutes. This time, it was not necessarily uncomfortable, Elsa had to admit. It was expectant, if anything. It was electrified with restlessness, pregnant with apprehension.

That was how her whole trip to Auradon City had been, if she had to be honest. She had scrutinized the dozens of different scenarios that could unfold. She had recapitulated the names of the villains that had plagued the provinces that now conformed the United States of Auradon, in an attempt to envisage who could be the progenitor of their protégé. She had clung to the hope that she would not have to face the offspring of the man who had nearly destroyed her family.

Elsa Danica of Arrendelle and Vistborg had never believed in her good luck. Whatever star she had been born under, it had never blessed her with the bright fortune others seemed to have embossed on their foreheads. Therefore, despite having hoped beyond hope that this ordeal would not conclude with her housing the spawn of Hans, she had always suspected such would be the ending.

However, her lack of fortunateness did not exclude the possibility of unexpected revelations from unfolding. Which demonstrated why the son of Hans she had been introduced to looked nothing like the vicious adolescent she had believed she would encounter.

It was not an optimal time to be having second thoughts, she concluded wearily. Finally blinking herself back into reality, she took her gaze off the open window and turned to face her new protégé.

"Are you hungry?" She inquired, only then remembering the luncheon Rapunzel had packed for them in the morning. For all answer, the boy merely shook his head, his eyes focused on the burgundy carpet of the floor. "You should eat, child. It is late and still a long journey awaits us."

Despite the fact that she did not receive a verbal answer either, Elsa leaned under her seat to reach for the knit handbag Rapunzel had given her that morning. Rapunzel, always a generous hostess, had packed the bag with enough containers to feed probably six or seven people, no doubt deciding it was better to have more to spare in case the number of protégés was higher than they were expecting. So engrossed had Elsa been with the prospect of the day that laid ahead of them, that she had not even opened Rapunzel's package to check what she had sent.

Calmly, the queen of Arrendelle untied the knot her cousin had secured the bag with. She took out six bottles of water and placed them beside her on the cushioned seat. She then proceeded to pull out one of the plastic containers Rapunzel had carefully packed.

"Oh, this girl," she couldn't help but chuckle as she uncapped the dish. Inside, perfectly aligned to make the most out of the space in the bowl, Rapunzel had placed five kjøttkaker meatballs, with brown sauce carefully spread on them and pea purée served to the side.

Out of the three of them, Rapunzel was the only one who could cook to save her life. Anna, bless her heart, sometimes tried to bake a cake or attempted to make cookies, which more often than not concluded with a chaotic kitchen and burnt dough. In Anna's defense, she was perfectly capable of making a sandwich, that much was true.

As for herself, Elsa had never been in the necessity of learning such a skill. Born and raised to rule Arrendelle, her days as a child had been scheduled around memorizing the history of her country and their neighboring provinces, around studying languages from abroad and learning to navigate the shifts of the economic world. It was only natural that her housewife skills had fallen below on her priority list. Especially taking into consideration that there were several years of her childhood that had been lost to isolation and dread.

Rapunzel, however, had spent her teenage years perfecting a wide variety of arts, which included painting, dressmaking and gastronomy. Elsa had to admit, it was a nice highlight to be invited to Corona and enjoy a home-made meal that had been especially prepared by her cousin. It made it all the more significant. Added to that, Rapunzel was extremely thoughtful, and she had a way of always finding out your culinary preferences in favor of surprising you with a plate of whatever delicacy you favored over the rest.

She would have to call Rapunzel and thank her as soon as she was back in Arrendelle. With that in mind, Elsa turned to face the boy before her once again.

"Here," she handed the container over. The boy accepted it silently, barely looking up to her, although he did not meet her eyes. He then waited patiently for Elsa to fish out the cutlery that had slipped to the bottom of the bag. His hands fidgeted with the bowl, and when Elsa handed over a fork and a knife, he stared down at the food for a moment in mystification and hesitancy.

It was when he finally began eating that Elsa noticed he had two teeth missing. A canine and an incisor, both from the right side of his mouth. He was supposed to be seven, she remembered absently, it was not a unique feature.

"This is a courtesy from my cousin Rapunzel, the Queen of Corona. Have you heard of her?" She questioned instead, turning her attention back to Rapunzel's bag.

"No, Your Majesty. Forgive me."

Bewildered, the queen arched an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose there's no reason you should have," she reflected. Even though she was more than certain that Hans was aware of the fact that the Corona family was related to her own, Elsa could not think of a reason why he would consider it information important enough to share with his son.

Still questioning how much knowledge Hans really had about her family, the queen proceeded to take out a similar dish out of the bag. Calmly, she took off the lid and took in the exquisite smell. It was only when she was halfway through her meal that it occurred to her that she could ask the boy how much he knew of another of her family members.

"What about Anna, my sister?" She inquired, startling her companion, who flinched at the sudden sound. "Did your father ever mention her?"

"He sometimes spoke of Princess Anna," he admitted, more concentrated in the purée than in the queen.

"He did?" Elsa couldn't help but inquire. "And what did he say, if I may know?"

"He used to say that she had made a mistake, choosing to remain loyal to you," he finally answered, his fork frozen midair so he could answer, even though he did not lift his gaze from the plate. "He said she was not fit to be queen."

"Am I to assume he said the same thing about me?" She questioned, genuinely intrigued by what the answer may be.

Instead of replying right away, Henry recoiled into his seat. It almost gave Elsa the impression that he wanted to curl into the back of the piece of furniture and disappear.

"Please, child, speak freely," she encouraged, her right eyebrow quirked up with curiosity. "It would be unjust of me to hold your sincerity against you."

"He called you a witch," he finally answered, holding the fork Elsa had given him tightly in his right hand. Parsimoniously, he cut the meatball into small portions, giving Elsa the impression that he was playing with the food rather than thinking of eating it. However, she quickly discovered that it was only a way to keep his fidgety hands busy. "He said that you shouldn't have been made queen."

"I am certain that he did," Elsa sighed, pressing the plastic lid back on her empty container so she could put it back into the bag.

She couldn't have explained the reason behind her next actions. Probably, there was no good explanation as to why her hands moved to her neck and unclasped her necklace. More mystified than before, she pulled the locket from under her dress and opened it.

The necklace, a snowflake-shaped silver jewel had been a gift from her sister. Inside, a picture of her parents on their wedding day, joyous and bathed in glory, smiled back at her from the left side. On the right one, Anna greeted her with a crooked smile. One of her arms was placed around her son's shoulders, while the other one rested on her thigh, supporting her weight as she squatted down.

To Karl's opposite side, Kristoff stood in a similar position, his eyes closed as he smiled widely to the camera. Between his parents, Karl seemed more preoccupied with the piece of cake before him than with the prospect of having his picture taken. His cheeks and chin were covered in blue icing as his tiny hands reached for the sweet treat. They'd taken that picture during Karl's first birthday party, amidst the chaos of Anna insisting that it had to be perfect and her toddler, who was more interested in the shinny-wrapped gifts and yummy food than in posing for pictures. Elsa cherished it even more because of it.

"This is my sister," she introduced, turning the locket over so Hans' son could appreciate Anna's warm smile. "The one your father deemed unfit to rule. You will be distraught to learn that she is still fiercely loyal to me. And this one," she pointed to Kristoff's joyful figure. "Is her husband. They are here with their son, he's slightly younger than you."

As all answer, the boy simply nodded his head. Although he stiffly leaned forward to get a better look at the picture Elsa was showing him. The queen noticed with a slight tinge of curiosity that he made no movement to grab the locket or to come closer to her than was strictly necessary.

The thought assaulted her like a sudden gush of icy wind on a warm summer evening. It was abrupt, rattling and, above everything, unwelcomed. Elsa could not have explained where it came from, only that it appeared in the horizon of her mind like an unanticipated turn in the tracks of her train of thought. Once she noticed the inevitable divarication she was forced to take, it was too late for her to evade the realization that dwelled on her with a sudden swerve.

Had things been a little different, had Anna continued her original plan and married Hans instead of Kristoff, the little boy in the picture of her locket could have been an entirely different one. For a moment, Elsa's vision blurred and the blond of Karl's hair beclouded to become a dark ginger. For a moment, instead of Kristoff's open expression and sincere smile, the sharp features of a man with green eyes and an icy smile stared back at her from her picture. Had things been a little different, and the thought gnawed at her chest with frigid emptiness, the boy leaning closer to get a better look of her pictures could have been her nephew.

"They are all waiting for us in Arrendelle," the queen manage to articulate in a rushed breath. She brusquely pulled the necklace back and clasped it in place once again with trembling fingers.

"Who is she?" Henry questioned quietly, pointing to where the picture of Elsa's parents had been barely a moment ago with a slight tilt of his head.

"Those are my parents, the former rulers of Arrendelle," Elsa replied, her voice a little tighter than she would have liked to admit.

"She is very pretty," he mumbled, sliding back to his seat.

"She... was," the queen conceded in an undertone. She let out a small sigh, her hand tightly wrapped around the silver snowflake. She didn't let go until the sharp ends of the figure bit at her palm. Even then, she only lessened her grip, although her fingers remained firmly placed around the locket.

Silence fell between them with resignation. There was something unnatural about the way the boy before her sat, too still and too quiet; about the way he adamantly refused to look at her in the eye, about the way his hands rested, barely pulling at the loose ends of his pants. There was something in the way he hunched over and kept his lips pressed into a pallid line that made Elsa shift uncomfortably in her seat. There was something, between the way that boy only ever spoke in soft whispers and her own unwelcomed thoughts that made hot, flaring guilt be born in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to call that feeling uneasiness instead, because it was easier to do that than to admit that, for the first time since she had arrived to the wharf in Auradon City, she did not know how to proceed.

"There's more of these, in case you are still hungry," she urged, holding up the knit bag her cousin had given her in the air, a desperate endeavor to change the subject. "Rapunzel cooked for maybe six people, but it is just the two of us here."

"Thank you, Your Highness," he mumbled quietly, in an attempt, Elsa supposed, to not give her testimony that he was in fact still hungry, even though his eyes followed Elsa's hands greedily when she opened the handbag and put away his dish.

"Here," Elsa handed him another of the containers.

"No, Your Majesty, this..."

"You don't have to eat them now if you don't want to," she shrugged. "However, I will warn you, they won't taste as good when they are reheated."

"Thank you," he repeated, barely audible.

"This is a bestowal from Rapunzel, I can't let it go to waste," she remarked. "In fact..." the queen added as a second thought. "She might have included dessert..."

With that prospect to look forward to, the queen returned her attention to the contents of the bag. As was her custom, Rapunzel had packed the healthy, more nutritious food in the top containers, while the sweeter, sugary treats had ended up at the bottom.

"Here we go," she announced, opening the lid of the dish to reveal six carefully presented cardamom rolls. "She made skolebrød, with vanilla."

Delighted, she took one of the sweets and handed over the remaining ones to the boy.

"Your Majesty, this is... enough. More than enough," he immediately tried to brush off, even though there was barely anything left in his plate.

"Feel free to take it," Elsa insisted, carefully wiping the corners of her lips with a folded napkin. "Rapunzel made it for you more than she made it for me. She is very passionate about this whole... project. Which is more than can be said about me."

Following her dry remark, the boy silently took the pastries and continued eating. After that, they both fell into silence once again. Elsa wouldn't have called it grievous or uncomfortable. If anything, it was contemplative, reflective. Elsa was used to silence, she reveled in it. Far from finding it awkward, it made her feel secure and it saved her the trouble of small talk and forced interactions. Therefore, Elsa was not going to complain over the fact that the boy she'd been assigned to watch over was a quiet one.

With that in mind, Elsa took a book out of her purse and began reading. Truthfully, she was re-reading it, a habit she has acquired as a child, as she remained in her room with no company besides her books and piano. That book in particular was a personal favorite, a collection of her compatriot's theatrical plays, Henrik Ibsen. What she enjoyed the most about them was how were genuine, controversial, and straight to the point they were, how raw and unapologetic.

She refused to put her book down until after seven o'clock, once the sun had come down and it was impossible for her to continue reading. With a content sigh, she put her bookmark in place and slowly blinked herself back into reality.

She unseeingly stared out of the open curtains for thirty or forty more minutes, before finally deciding it had gotten too dark and closing them. The temperature had been consistently dropping for the last hours, but it was around eight thirty when the air turned chilly. It was nothing but a mild annoyance to her. However, she was fairly certain that, had Anna been besides her, she would have alternated her time between placing her hands under her thighs and hugging herself, both fruitless attempts to warm herself up.

It was that thought what finally reminded her that she was not traveling alone to some idyllic and unvisited part of the Norwegian forests. Instead, she was trapped in a very long ride with the son of the man who had plotted to kill her. And somehow, she had managed to forget that crucial piece of information.

When she finally turned to face him once again, she found Hans' son still stiffly sitting in place. Unlike what one would have assumed as a result of the calm stillness that had taken over the carriage —something impossible to achieve when one was traveling with children—, he was not asleep. Rather, his eyes attentively watched every one of Elsa's movements. At some point, he'd drawn his knees closer to the rest of his body, until he was now almost kneeling on the seat, careful to keep his shoes out of the cushioned bench.

His eyes were riveted to Elsa like a hawk. Although, upon further inspection, Elsa realized that that analogy was being too generous with him. A hawk, with capable wings and fearless talons, was a bird of prey, a lone owner of the skies, too powerful to fear even the prideful eagle. The son of Hans looked nothing like that. Curled up into his seat, he gave more the impression of a frightened hare, heedful to his surroundings, desperately registering every sound, in fear that the real hawk would find him. Following that analogy, she should be the raptor, Elsa realized with slight amusement. The thought was also slightly disturbing, and she soon decided to brush it away.

He was almost too tense to be sure, and the murkiness of the carriage made it impossible to be entirely certain. However, from the way that he hugged his arms close to his body and the fact that he seemed to be trying to take up as less space as humanly possible, Elsa thought it was safe to assume that he did not share her views when regarding the weather.

"You're cold," she concluded, not a question as much as it was a statement.

"No, Your Majesty. I am fine," he replied, almost immediately.

Is that so, she thought to herself, unable to stop herself from arching an inquisitive eyebrow at him. It probably made no difference, as the penumbras most likely hid her expression.

"Stand up," she instructed, her reaction sudden and unexplainable even to her.

The change was instantaneous. The words had barely left her lips when the steady rise and fall of his chest came to a halt. His hands, which had been loosely wrapped around his elbows, tensed until they were fists.

"Your... Your Highness... I am extremely sorry," he stammered weakly. "It was not my intention to trouble you, I... will not do it again."

"What are you talking about, child? Stand up," she repeated flatly, as she rose to her feet as well.

This time, the boy locked eyes with her for what had to be the first time since she'd picked him up that afternoon. There was something desperate in his gaze, something, dare she say it, pleading. However, it quickly changed into resignation when he saw Elsa stand in front of him.

With a choked whimper, he pulled himself to his feet and stepped closer to Elsa. His movements were so tense that they almost seemed mechanic.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry," he insisted in a brittle voice. "I assure you it won't happen again."

Judging from the way his breathing had sped up, he was on the verge of tears now. His arms were stiffly wrapped around his torso, and although it was hard for Elsa to be certain due to the fact that he had, once again, turned away from her, he seemed to be blinking repeatedly in a desperate attempt to reabsorb the humidity that had begun to pool in his eyes.

"It won't happen again, Your Majesty, I—"

"Hush, child, hush," Elsa finally interrupted him. In silence, she walked closer to him and crouched so she could be at his height. "I have no idea of what you are talking about. You have done nothing wrong."

Yet, she added to herself, even though her tongue curled in distaste at the prospect of saying it aloud. It was simply too cruel to torture the boy further, when it was so glaringly obvious that he was already terrified of her as things were. Pointing out that she expected him to fail soon was not something Anna would have approved. And, on this particular note, she agreed with her sister.

Without adding a word, Elsa's left hand moved to unfasten the button that secured her cape to her left shoulder. Soon, she repeated the motion with her opposite shoulder. Henry missed the movement, as his eyes were squeezed shut, but Elsa carefully slid the piece of clothing behind him.

"Here," she proceeded, placing her cape on Henry's shoulders. She adjusted the item so that it wrapped around his body. There was a third buttonhole on the left side of the neck, in case the queen wanted it to envelope her body instead of having the Aegean blue fabric cascade from the tips of her shoulders to the floor. Of course, the item was much too long for Henry to wear, and its lower part dragged along the carpet of the floor. When Elsa reached for Henry to button the cape, he practically whimpered at the contact. "Calm down," she shushed. "I don't bite, calm down."

He gave her a curt nod as answer, and Elsa decided to take the gesture as the boy's approval for her to continue. With precise hands, and trying to touch him no more than was strictly necessary, she adjusted the clothing item around him, trying to make it so that the soft linen was wrapped around his body. Carefully, she smoothed out the fabric and primped the white mink fur of the borders of the cloth under Henry's neck.

"There we go, child," she nodded. "This should be enough."

"Queen Elsa, what is...? Why?" He stuttered, his voice hurried and wobbly.

"I can't allow you to get sick before we are even standing in Arrendellian soil," she answered, even though the words tasted of deceit on her tongue. While that was true, she knew that it hadn't been the reason why she had stepped forward so munificently.

"I can't accept this, Your Majesty, I—"

"Hush," Elsa repeated once again. With measured movements, she slipped her left hand into the pocket of her gown and pulled out an embroidered silk handkerchief. She extended it towards the boy, and although he hesitated before taking it, he finally did and rubbed at his eyes. Satisfied with his response, Elsa rose to her feet and turned away. "Take your seat, boy. I do not find cold as troublesome as others do. I will be fine."

Once again, Hans' son chose not to reply verbally. Instead, he offered a faltering nod and quietly walked over to the bench he'd been using. Through the murkiness of the carriage, Elsa saw his hands grip around the fabric of her cape to pull it tighter around his body.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he whispered after several minutes. It was a small sound, tight with something that Elsa did not identify, something that lingered in the space between them and that made Elsa shift in her seat with worriment.

For once, Elsa decided to follow the boy's example and not say anything. Instead, she folded her hands on her lap. She drummed her fingers against the Swarovski crystals of her dress, before finally sighing. She must be imagining things, she decided at last.

"It's still a long way to Arrendelle, child," she announced, turning her eyes to the tarnished window. "Better make yourself comfortable."

Afterwards, neither of them said anything. It only made sense. After all, Elsa had nothing to add, and Henry had made it very clear that he was not the kind of person who easily found his way around interesting conversation topics or awkward silences. Furthermore, they were two strangers who had found themselves sharing a carriage with each other by consequence of ill fortune. They had nothing to say to one another.

When Elsa finally returned her attention to the son of Hans, she found him fast asleep. His legs were tucked under the rest of his body, and his head leaned against the window. Soft exhalations of breath rhythmically misted up the glass. Strangely enough, Elsa noticed that he was sucking on his left thumb, which had to be a worrying behavior.

He almost didn't seem like a threat. Elsa nearly scoffed at the thought. Of course, she thought, he wasn't currently a threat. He was asleep and drained from the day, it was only natural. Likewise, an unconscious, well-trained soldier was completely incapable of inflicting damage.

However, Elsa knew that the fact that he was exhausted was not the reason she'd been assaulted by such thought. That boy, with a wobbly voice and tearful eyes did not seem like a threat even when awake. To practically state it, he was weak. His fight-or-flight instincts seemed to be permanently stuck on freeze, from what she had seen in the course of only a few hours.

Someone like him, someone so quick to obey and to please, someone so deprived of resolution, could definitely not have the upper hand against any of the children that Elsa had seen descend from the Pharaoh that afternoon. Clearly, he could not win against any of the kids that belonged to Miss Hook's crew. The mere thought of Hans' son fighting against, say, the boys that had left with Megara or even the young lady Rapunzel had introduced her to was risible, absurd.

There was an important age gap in her comparisons, Elsa was well-aware of it. However, it was not only size or skill that made the thought so terribly preposterous, it was the attitude of the kids. Were the Gaston boys had carried themselves with overbearingness and conviction, Henry was insecure and weak-willed. Were Miss Gothel had been fierce and oh-so-ready to talk back and to argue against Rapunzel, Henry was eerily quiet for a child his age, unnaturally still through their whole journey.

Careful, she reminded herself. This could very well be what he wants you to think.

It could be, she knew. And it made sense, too, to persuade her into thinking that he was nothing but a terrified young boy. Nothing but an innocent kid, in the same way that her own nephew, Anna's real son, was. Nothing but a child that had been brought up in the worst of conditions, only to be uprooted and thrown into the care of a complete stranger, like Esmeralda de Châteaupers wanted them to believe.

On the other hand... it did not seem to be adding up. Elsa praised herself of being a clever woman, one that could see through the ill intentions of others, one that was rarely taken by surprise. And, if she allowed herself to be honest... to think that the boy that had so completely rendered himself to sleep in front of her, that the boy that had literally jumped in fear at the prospect of her being mildly inconvenienced by him could instead be an egregious attacker waiting to strike seemed quite unlikely to her.

Hans, a wolf in sheep's clothing, a deceiving assassin-to-be, had sounded so secure of himself, he'd carried himself with such earnestness and strong conviction that it was unthinkable to doubt him. He had a seductive smile, he possessed a silky voice and rehearsed compliments curled around the corners of his lips with concealed scorn. It was inconceivable and nearly as absurd as picturing his backboneless son as a Machiavellian vindicator, to think that he expected Henry to become his successor and finish the work he had started at Arrendelle while, at the same time, not even instructing him on his charming qualities.

Careful, careful, she repeated to herself. With a sigh, the queen allowed herself to lean her head on the back of her seat and close her eyes. That morning, she had been certain that it was her duty to diligently stay on guard and protect her family from the arrival of a cold-blooded delinquent. It had been so clear to her, that nothing good could come out of this improvised project.

She wasn't as certain now. There was nothing, not one tiny, insignificant thing that had made her feel she needed to have her guard up. Nothing told her that that boy was plotting to destroy the life she had fought so hard to build. Nothing but the man who had sired him.

If anything, he seemed terrified. And it only made it all the more confusing. She was an expert at concealing her own emotions. She had spent a lifetime perfecting that art, it was only fair that she had become extremely adept at pinpointing someone who was doing the same thing. And, to be completely honest, it did not seem to her that the boy Hans had spawned wanted to take revenge for what had been done to his father.

Anna had asked her to give the Isle children a chance. A chance to prove that they were, in fact, only that—children. That they were scared, hungry and in need of help. A chance to prove that they deserved security and stability, and that they did not intend to follow in their parents' footsteps.

A chance, Anna had insisted until it was impossible for Elsa to refuse. A chance for them to simply be themselves.

"Very well," the queen of Arrendelle announced into the icy darkness of her carriage.

Hawks were patient. They could overfly the extensions of their valleys, eyes scanning the ground below until a single movement of their prey announced their downfall and the hawk, swift and ruthless, descended to grasp them in its claws. If she was a raptor in this unorthodox allegory, patience ran warm in her veins. She would play along, she decided. She would pretend to buy that hare's act and lower her guard.

If nothing else, she would do it out of curiosity, out of genuine desire to see how things unfolded. Only time would tell, she supposed. But if, by any chance, it turned out that Hans had in fact planned to retaliate against her family, then there would be nothing, no stilted analogies or pleas from her sister, no silly royal decrees or tearful apologies, that could prevent her from unleashing her wrath against the ones who had jeopardized her family.

And when the time to strike came, she would not waste time in charming smiles or play pretend for the sake of performance. No, if she was truly a bird of prey, she would shoot to kill, like she had always done. Ruthless, practical, unrelenting.

The first step one took on a freshly frozen lake was always hesitant, dubious. It always held a level of confusion and dread, the first attempt to examine how secure the ice was before applying one's full weight on the glassy material. This was her first step into the waterbody Anna had dragged her to. The water had frozen overnight and she had never been one to trust her good luck, especially not when the weight of her family's and kingdom's welfare ladened her down, heavy as lead shackles. She could be patient and wait until the ice could support her or until it cracked and fissured, drowning Benjamin's outrageous decrees and Anna's naiveness in its icy waters.

That was something she could do. She could wait.

Well... here goes nothing. It is here now! I am so, so happy. I loved how this turned out.

Now, a very long time ago BriEva actually asked me if Henry even had a tongue, as he had not spoken at all in the previous chapters. To be honest, I didn't think you guys would notice such a thing. While Henry's silence was absolutely intentional, I thought you readers would just brush it off and ignore it. It didn't happen, apparently, so imagine my surprise when she asked this and mentioned that "For some reason, she though Hans might have removed it". I am happy to inform, however, that no, Henry is fine, he can speak.

So, I know I shouldn't be picking favorites, because they are all my children and I love them all. However, Henry is a very special character to me, maybe because he is an OC, maybe because it lets me include Elsa. In fact, I even considered not including a child of Hans because I knew I would end up getting carried away because I absolutely adore Elsa. But I have no self-control, so here it is. What had to happen, happened. We have a son of Hans, I have an anarchic Elsa and life couldn't be better.

Now, for the *, the Norwegian Fjords are a breed of horses. Remember the ones with the darker strike of hair in their mane, from the Frozen movie? Those are them. They are lovely and I just wanted to point them out so you can go and see some pretty horse pictures.

Umm... I think that's all for now? I promise I will try to get the next chapter out soon but, like I said, life is a mess right now. Just remember, no matter how long it takes, I won't abandon this story, so rest assured I'm not just leaving it behind. It's just that school sucks. Meanwhile that happens, please know that your comments motivate me a lot, so please feel free to share your opinions and tell me, whose POV do you think the next chapter will be narrated in?

I love you all and read you soon!

#TOWW #the ones who wander #Hans #Southern Isles #Frozen #Elsa #Descendants #Descendants 2015 #Disney Descendants #Fanfiction #Angst #hurt/comfort

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mutantenfisch · 6 years

Note

1 & 7

1. What is your Inquisitor’s name and race? (and small characterisation/backstory because I won’t shut up about my OCs)

Duuuude, I have like 17 Inquisitors by now… XDBut anyway, here they are, as ordered as possible.

The Dwarves:

Meret, Craeg, Arno and Eguzkia Cadash. Zelma Aeducan.

Related only by name, Eguzkia bears the maiden name of her mother, who originally was a baker in Orzammar and ran away to the surface with a member of House Helmi who loves his wife and daughter deeply, despite them being lower caste. She and her mother were hired to provide their culinary arts to some nobles at the Conclave and it was only due to a chain of coincidence, that the young dwarf ends up being Herald of Andraste.

Meret’s mother, on the other hand, was indeed a branded casteless who worked for the Carta. Her surface-born son followed her path due to having to provide her medicine for her chronic cough. One of his heist targets, a Tevinter mage and scholar in exile, sees the young dwarf’s intellectual potential and hires him and his mother as apprentice/bodyguard and housekeeper. A decade later, the trio’s interest in the Conclave is only marginal; the Tevinter, Lydus Maro, had planned to make the pilgrimage to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for religious reasons only and by chance, all three of them survive the Conclave, mostly thanks to the distance Lydus and Ama have kept to the temple. Of course, the following scandal with a dwarf of all people being the Herald of Andraste, and with him having a Tevinter “magister” advanced in years as a friend and lover does not help the fledgling Inquisition gaining approval or attention in its first days.

Azelma was the second child of King Endrin Aeducan but after being framed for the murder of Trian, she was exiled to the deep roads. Unfortunately, she never managed to reach the Grey Wardens in time and instead joined the Legion of the Dead, to give her exile and death-in-name a meaningful purpose. A darkspawn emissary’s fire bolt nearly killed her and left one half of her face disfigured and the corresponding eye blinded and ear tingling. She follows some suspicious darkspawn activities to Haven and tries to warn the Divine. Her amnesia is worse than with any other Inquisitor in their respective time-line, for she can remember almost nothing about what happened in the two weeks before the Conclave.

Craeg is a surfacer who’s never been to Orzammar in his entire life, but as the resident bouncer at his favourite tavern, he had to deal with so many Carta dwarves who were, in fact, real casteless dwarves from the streets of Dust-Town which left for a better (if criminal) life, he decides one day to get one of those infamous face tattoos on his cheek as well. He was probably drunk when that happened. His reason to be at the Conclave was, as with most of my characters, purely business-related but since he has a talent for stumbling right into trouble, it was almost no coincidence that he picked up the orb.

Arno left his family the moment they declared he’d be married to a member of the Smith Caste and used the anonymity of the Surface to embrace his real identity and change his name from Nora to Arno. He picked the last name Cadash for he knew it was a quite common name among Carta-members and he was sure this would sound believable enough. He loves hitting stuff and wearing armour that conceals some parts of his physique. Smuggling Lyrium as a quick, if dangerous, source of income was good enough for him and especially after the downfall of the Circles, Templars were way too eager to keep their line of supply working, so he did’t ask many questions.

The Elves:

Ilargian, Meretari and Udane Ibaiguren.

They were taken in by clan Lavellan when the Ibaiguren were destroyed during events of the “Three-Queens” era in 9:17 Dragon. Only few clan members survived.

Ilargian is the oldest of the trio. In the worldstate where he becomes Inquisitor, he and his Starkhaven-born wife Maeve Ameslari, n elf-blooded healer and secretly self-taught hedge-mage, are on the run from the Mage-Templar War. They met a few years earlier when she was in temporary, contract-bound slavery for a Tevinter slave hunter company and escaped together. Now, he tries to get first-hand information about the outcome of the Conclave and decides to go there as a spy for his small, growing family. Being separated from his loved ones really tears on his nerves and sanity and sometimes only the companionship of the mysterious spirit boy can ease his pain and calm his fears, so he can sleep soundly at least during some nights.

Meretari and Udane are half-sisters with a ten-year age-gap and while the older, Meretari, has a few childhood memories of her mother, two dads and twin-brother, the younger is named after Meretari’s mother who, in this worldstate, did not survive the flight to clan Lavellan but is kept in dear and loving memory by her husbands. Udane the Elder was also a cousin of Merrill’s mother and for Varric, the resemblance between Meretari and Hawke’s Dalish companion in Kirkwall is almost too uncanny to bear.

Ondras and Oroilora Lavellan

Again, these two are only related by their clan’s name, but are neither siblings nor cousins. Instead, O was sent to Clan Lavellan after her magic manifested, for Clan Sabrae already had Merrill as Marethari’s first.

Ondras could be the epitome of a bratty teenager who is more interested in partying and flirting, if he didn’t also show a deep care towards others and their daily struggles. For most people, he makes the first impression of a very flamboyant youth who neither hides his good looks nor sexuality and some smell a scandal just waiting to happen. Despite his young age - he barely got his vallaslin before he volunteered to spy on the Conclave - he is an excellent marksman and caring and patient companion to those he grows friends with.

Oroilora is the keeper’s First and takes her elven pride and distrust towards humans a bit too seriously, but then again, she can’t be blamed for this. A few months before she got her vallaslin, the young mage encountered a troupe of noble-born hunters, who decided to declare the elf their “special” prey. She barely survived this encounter and chose Elgar’nan as her vallaslin and swore to hunt down and kill the humans who hurt and humiliated her. This hunt lead her to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Manon Vallon

Manon is one of the few survivors of Celene’s purge of Halamshiral’s Alienage. She was hired as a guard by an Orlesian hedge-knight who bears little love for the Empress’s actions during that night but also needs cheap muscle to protect his estate in the Dales from the brooding civil war. He watched her slaughter some of Celene’s soldiers in the streets outside the Alienage and that settled the deal for him.Manon was his bodyguard at the Conclave, even though she rather wanted to stay behind at her new home to protect her fellow servants, but had little say in the matter, which made her furious at first, but upon her return to the estate, she was glad her fortune turned out like this. She immediately put the whole remaining household under the Inquisition’s protection and retaliated upon the marauders for what they’ve done there.

The Humans:

Maxim, Irene, Roxana, Sebastien, Henry and Jean-Luc Trevelyan.

While Roxana and Jean-Luc both have only little memories of their family and spent most of their lives in the Circle, both have different approaches towards magic and the ongoing war.

Jean-Luc, who was certain he would die of old age in his Senior Enchanter bed, is afraid of the open and of rain and enjoys staying by the fireplace, neck deep in his studies, now wields a green glowing thing on his hand, has to venture through mud and snow and what not and the only light at the end of the day is having conversation with his fellow researcher Minaeve or the heart-warmingly charming Ambassador Montilyet.

Roxana on the other hand thinks the war has been inevitable and considers it her duty to fight in it, to make mages’ lives safer. She holds no grudge against Templars in general, but then again, not every Circle was like Ostwick’s and not all Templars are nice people.

Irene served as a Templar for most of her life and while she takes her duties very seriously, and disagreed with Meredith’s leadership when she was stationed in Kirkwall, she can’t bring herself to fully trust mages, after having seen them being possessed or killing her friends with blood magic. She and Cullen know each other since their days in the Kinloch Hold Circle and even though she is a woman beyond her forties and at least for a while was above him in rank, she highly respects him and often speaks back with him when things have to be decided.

Sebastien is the illegitimate child of an Orlesian servant girl and one of the Trevelyans when this branch of the family resided in Ferelden around 9:15-9:20 Dragon. As a child, he was bullied by his peers for his parents, his accent, his protruding ears and his weight. That he searched solace in comfort-food, such as cookies, did not really help. Especially not, when the Hero of Ferelden and their entourage stopped at their village and the intimidating Qunari companion of the Grey Warden took the little boy’s cookies and told him he didn’t need more. What did help, was seeing the Hero and their friends in action and learning about Alistair becoming king of Ferelden. After this, the boy decided to become like his new idol and after a decade of fiercely practising the way of the sword, he has become a buff, towering young lad, who still loves cookies and has a thing for those pagan giants from the north.

Maxim, Max for short, is the youngest of four children, and while his mother was incredibly happy that at least her youngest was a girl, the following years showed that this was indeed not the case with young Max. While his father tolerates his personality and his interest in learning how to ride and fight and his older brothers accept him, his relationship to his mother is rather cold and strained by this circumstance.

Henry is the least person he himself would have thought becoming a hero of some sorts. The calm, quiet man might be a noble and might be quite proficient with a bow or his dual blades, but never had any ambition to actually do noble or heroic deeds. And after all, isn’t the Grey Warden or the Champion of Kirkwall what a real hero has to look or act like? No, for this orange haired man, this whole Herald business is just one big misunderstanding.

The Qunari

Zdravkos, Shura, Artemia and Ireth (though I’m not sure whether I will actually play the latter, due to her being already part of an Elder Scrolls crossover, where she is Dragonborn)

Zdravkos is the son of Vashoth mercenaries who serve as regular guards for a quite unimportant Orlesian nobleman and his family. The boy, even though he always knew he was treated a little different than the other servants’ children, grew up to be a kind and gentle, soft-spoken young lad who would, in his teen years, often impress guests of the house with his skill as both a painter and a dancer, despite his height and “savage” origin. When his magic manifested, at the rather high age of nineteen, his family’s patron arranged for him being taken to the Circle of Montsimmard, where Kos showed quite some talent for both frost and healing magic and successfully completed his Harrowing only a few years after coming to the Circle and months before the Civil War started. While he is no eager player of the Game, he has a talent for it and uses this to his own benefit after becoming Inquisitor.

Shura is again a vashoth and also a true mercenary. She convinces with her intimidating height - and strange beauty - as much as with her broadaxe. Then again, her abilities as a leader, or at least second-in-command, weren’t just valued by her former company, but also by her fellow Inquisition members.

Artemia, Temi for her friends, grew up near the Antivan border and as a child, always hoped her horns would curve in a way that’d make it possible for her to use them to swing on them.In the end, she grew faster than her horns and the early death of her Tal-Vashoth parents made it necessary for her to take on any kind of work that would make it possible for her and her younger siblings to survive on their own. She joins the Valo-Kas mercenaries when her siblings are old enough to look after themselves and loses both her horns to enemies’ axes. She’s furious on the battlefield and a whirlwind with her long knives. But as soon as children are in danger she turns into something the Qun would have called a Tamassran, like her mother once was, and fights like a dragon to defend them.

2. Who is your Inquisitor’s best friend?This is indeed not easy to ask. In means of approval, most of my Inquisitors get along well with Varric - Eguzkia Cadash and Henry Trevelyan are declared fans of his work as well. Then again, depending on the character and background, my Inquis have different views and values and since some of them have accompanying NPC OCs, those count, too.For Meret, his lover Lydus is also his best friend - much to the delight of his mum, who is happy her boy is happy. He also becomes friends with Minaeve and both Bram Kenric and Frederic of Serault, the latter eventually engaging in a polyamory relationship with Meret and Lydus.Ilargian would probably be lost without Cole’s presence. The boy knows when to say the right things to the elf and he is the first person he can share his burden of worrying about his family with, while not having to give away too much verbal information about them. He also gets along very well with Blackwall and, to his own surprise, with Dorian.Meretari often sticks to herself, but becomes good friends with Scout Harding, while Udane befriends the Chargers, as does Max.Zdravkos, now that he has the chance, bonds with Vivienne over their similar views towards magic and mages, Jean-Luc and Oroilora become friends with Solas.Irene sticks somewhat to her habits and hangs around with the (ex-)Templars a lot but also becomes friends with Blackwall and Cassandra.For Shura, no-one, not even herself can tell whether she was first friends, then lovers with Sera or if it was the other way around. Fact is, when they can, they plunder the kitchen larder together or prank those who understand fun. Eguzkia gets along with Sera very good, too, but without the romance part. And she sometimes slows Sera down, when a prank seems harmful to her.Pfhhhew, that was a lot. Thank you very much for asking!

#mutantenfisch answers #my characters #about my inquisitors

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expressandadmirable · 6 years

Text

Wait For It

Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes And if there’s a reason I’m still alive When everyone who loves me has died I’m willing to wait for it I’m willing to wait for it

To Aviva’s surprise, no-one protested when she broached the topic of a detour to Corneria during their flight toward Onrac. In fact, Cid immediately brightened at the idea of stopping for some real Cornerian street food. The stalls in Crescent Lake were good, and the strange magical food maker on the Highwind was adequate, but they both knew the food in their home city was the best in the world.

They agreed on a single afternoon’s visit before continuing on their journey, allowing enough time to run their errands but not enough to distract from the task at hand. Upon landing as unobtrusively as an airship could land on the outskirts of the city, Wilhelm immediately departed for the Academy libraries, while Maergrahn wandered at a more leisurely pace in search of a guidebook and souvenir stand. Sol opted to remain aboard the Highwind, ostensibly to stand guard but truly to take advantage of the peace and quiet. Grummer, armed with a list of recommendations from Aviva, peeled off on a quest to buy the largest hookah he could find; watching his back until he disappeared onto a side street, Aviva and Cid began their epicurean quest.

After an animated debate over the best tavern, stall or food cart in the city, Aviva acquiesced to Cid’s desire for bao and followed her through the press of the central market toward a brightly-coloured shop with a large open window set into the front. A round-faced Human stood in the window, calling jovially to passersby; though she eyed the pair as they approached, her suspicious expression quickly crinkled into a smile when they reached the counter. “What can I getcha?”

Cid ordered for them both, rattling off her request with the ease of a regular, and Aviva realised she had probably been so before destiny stole her away. The shop owner, however, did not recognise the towering Lefein as the friendly little Gnome from up the street and seemed greatly impressed by her knowledge of the menu. Cid flushed, though whether it was due to pride or a pang of nostalgia, Aviva could not tell.

“Okay, you win,” Aviva mumbled through a mouthful of bao as they meandered around the edges of the market. “This was the right choice.”

“Told you!” Cid wobbled her head, confident in her decision yet pleased nonetheless by the Tiefling’s vote of approval. “I used to come here all the time with my papa. He tried to make it at home sometimes, and it was good, but it was never as good.”

“Your papa’s back at the shop by now, yeah? Are you going to go see him?”

Cid stopped abruptly, her face darkening, and it took Aviva a step to realise she was no longer at the Lefein’s side. She turned as her friend shook her head. “No. Not yet. I…” Her eyes flicked down to her still-new form, then back to the Tiefling. “I don’t think I’m ready to have that conversation.”

Aviva nodded, quietly regretting her choice of topic. “Okay.”

“I think I’ll go by the shop, though?” Cid mused aloud. “Have a look? Make sure everything’s okay?”

“Change the sign in the window?” Aviva offered with a small smile. “‘Gone to save the world’?”

“I won’t have to change the sign if he’s there!” Cid laughed, her face losing some of its worry. She shifted her gaze to the wide flight of stone steps at the far end of the market, leading up and away toward a broad cobblestoned square. “I think I’ll head there now. Check in on him.” She brightened further as a thought occurred. “Maybe I’ll write him a letter and slip it under the door.”

“I think that’d be nice.” The Tiefling tilted her head. “Do you want company?”

Cid shook her head. “This is something I need to do by myself.” She softened. “Thank you though.”

“Always.”

“I can meet up with you after, though? At your mama’s shop?”

“That’s where I’ll be.”

Lapsing into a brief silence as she finished her bao, Cid gestured to the stone steps, her expression distant. “If the breeze blows the right way, you can smell all the food in the market from our shop. Sometimes I would leave my window open at night so the smell of baking bread would wake me up in the morning.” Her eyes shone as she spoke. “If papa saw the window, he’d go out and buy bread for our breakfast. Every time, he would tell mama to blame me for putting the idea in his head.” Another silence. Then: “Maybe I’ll buy him some bread, too.”

Giving the Lefein an affectionate pat on the shoulder as she passed, Aviva tracked the mass of white-blonde hair as it faded into the chaos of the market. The same market she had visited her entire life, utterly unchanged in her absence. She debated paying a visit to her old haunts, catching up with friends and comrades, but abandoned the idea as soon as it came to her. Cid was right. Those conversations were too complicated for one afternoon. If there was a next time, she would have them then.

She lit a cigarette and started walking, somewhat absently, turning away from vendors hawking their goods and entering her own personal labyrinth of alleys and back streets, the press of shadowed walls as intimate as a lover’s embrace. The city of her childhood stood exactly as it always had, raucous and vibrant, a living thing. Did it know? Did it have even an inkling of the darkness encroaching on the world? Did it know what she and her friends had been through to save it? To save everything? It did not matter. It was their destiny to fight, perhaps to die, in the service of the world. She wondered who would remember them.

All at once, the alley opened onto a familiar boulevard and the leather shop stood before her, shuttered and quiet. It, too, had not changed, though it stood in stark contrast to the rest of the shops along the street, all of them bright and open for business. It had never been an impressive structure, lacking the attractive half-timbered design of its neighbours, its only distinctive feature the faded purple door at its centre. But it was home.

Her heart hurt as she stared at the building that once housed her entire world. One day, as a child, she had come home from school to find vulgar words and the crude depiction of a bull scrawled across the lovingly painted door. She could no longer recall which cruelties the vandals had chosen to leave, only the badly-hidden defeat on her mother’s face as she resigned herself to repainting the door -- again. Now, its colour dulled with time, that door held only a simple sign announcing to customers that the shop was closed until further notice and apologising for the inconvenience. She almost rolled her eyes. Only her mother would apologise for closing her own shop.

Slipping through the alley to their tiny back courtyard, she left a stone from the banks of Crescent Lake on the Goddess’ altar before letting herself inside. The workshop air was thick with the scent of leather and dye, her mother’s constant perfume. She continued into the shop and rounded the stairs to the flat above, taking a deep, steadying breath before ascending.

The inside of the flat was as dim as the shop below, but her eyes had never minded the dark. The kitchen and living area were as tidy as she had left them months ago, cleaning late into the night to soothe her anxious mind as she teetered on the precipice of destiny. She ran a hand along the smooth wood of the kitchen table, feeling a pang of absurd disappointment; some small part of her had hoped to see signs of life, some evidence her mother had returned, safe and sound despite everything. It was a foolish hope, she knew. The house was empty.

Fishing a ratty canvas bag from the linen closet, she set about gathering items from throughout the flat. A spare belt, extra trousers and tunics (why not take advantage of living in a cabin with drawers?), new violin strings, a blanket she had missed, a stoppered glass vial filled with ash. She surveyed the instruments in her room, finally selecting the left-handed guitar and throwing a capo, glass slide, spare strings and a number of picks into the bag. Having another avenue for music ought to keep her busy for awhile.

The flat was not large, consisting of an open kitchen and living room, a small storage room mostly filled with leather supplies, her room, and her mother’s room. She had stopped thinking of it as her parents’ room fairly quickly after her father’s passing, but she wondered if her mother ever had. Tapping arhythmic patterns on the doorknob to quell the sudden surge of anxiety, it took her several full minutes to open the door.

She had not looked in on her mother’s room before she left Corneria months ago, but she was not surprised to find it immaculate. Much like the shop below, her mother had somehow known she would be gone for some time and had left nothing out of place. The stack of thick gold bracelets was missing from the dresser, which she found oddly comforting; it meant her mother was wearing her favourite jewellery, wherever she was. She considered lying down on the bed, crawling under the covers as she had done so many times when she was little, but she did not. The bed had only been safe because it contained her mother’s arms. Instead, she picked up the item she wanted from the bedside table and made a hasty exit, closing the door firmly and definitively behind her.

The roof. That was where she wanted to go. To see the city as she knew it best, to sit in her favourite spot and let music drift over the slate and thatch and terra cotta like smoke from a hearth. Slinging the guitar across her back and the bag over one shoulder, she opened the shutters of her bedroom window and clambered out, up, and over.

The roof was the only place the lack of change seemed natural; aside from the chimneys and the rainwater tank at the far end, there was nothing to see but flat stone, sun-warmed and inviting even in winter. Settling cross-legged near the front lip of the building, she pulled the guitar into her lap and retrieved the slide from the bag. The guitar was badly in need of tuning, and the strings would soon need to be replaced, but she did not mind. It was an opportunity too precious to waste.

* * *

“Lux? Umm… Aviva?”

The Tiefling palmed the strings of her guitar, her ears pricking up at the sound of her name. The sun was low over the bay; evidently, she had lost track of the hour quite awhile ago. At least it had given her plenty of time to think. She stood, fighting off the feeling of pins and needles in her legs and at the base of her tail, and poked her head over the edge of the roof to see Cid looking at the shop in confusion. “Hey honeybee!” she called, grinning at the face tilting in her direction. “Come on up! The back door’s open, and if you go through--”

And then Cid was beside her on the roof, iridescent angelic wings folding and vanishing against her back.

Aviva blinked. “Or, yeah, you could do that. Showoff.” She smiled as Cid giggled. Letting it fade, she considered her first question; then, softly: “Did you see your dad?”

“No,” Cid sighed. “Shop was closed. But the sign was different, so he must have been back recently. I wrote a letter and left it under the door, then went for a walk in the Garden District. Nothing’s in bloom, but it’s still pretty green. It was nice.” She looked out over the rooftops. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“Best view in the city,” Aviva declared with a broad wave of her hand. “I’ve probably spent more time up here than anywhere else in the world.” She let her arm fall back to her side. “It’s weird to be back, though.”

Cid cocked her head. “How so?”

“I don’t know.” Aviva shrugged. “I guess I expected something to be… I don’t know,” she repeated. “Different.”

“Yeah,” Cid agreed quietly. “Everything around here is the same. It’s us who have changed.”

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Aviva cleared her throat. “I’m not sure I ever just… thanked you. For coming with me in Deepgift. Or maybe I did, but it doesn’t feel like enough.” She chewed her lip. “I know it didn’t… I didn’t… Well, it could have gone better.” She offered a lopsided grin as Cid snorted, then removed the slide from her finger and reached for her friend’s hand. “But I don’t think I could have held out without you beside me. I don’t know if I could have said no, and ‘no’ was the only right answer I could give. You helped me do that.”

Cid squeezed her hand, her fingers long and graceful, her grip warm. “I know you still feel guilty. But it was my choice to go. You’d have done the same.”

Returning the squeeze, Aviva smiled. “That’s what Elerian said, too.”

“Well, maybe you should start listening!”

A huffed laugh. “I’m learning.”

“I know.” Cid paused, mulling over her words. “And, honestly? Really, truly honestly? Jaxa sort of… did me a favour, if you want to look at it that way. This me feels like the me I’m supposed to be. I feel good like this. I feel… right.” She shrugged. “Would have been nice to find a mellower way to bring that about, but.” It was Aviva’s turn to snort. Cid fell silent for a beat, gazing out over the city. “I don’t blame anyone for being sad. We feel what we feel. It’s just a lot to shoulder when I’m also trying to figure things out for myself. I’m the same, but I’m different. It’s a lot to think about.”

Moving to sit, Aviva tugged on Cid’s arm to join her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Following the Tiefling’s lead, Cid plopped down beside her, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “I don’t know. I’m still sorting through a lot.” She squinted into the distance as she thought. “It was nice to be unknown in Crescent Lake. People stared because I’m a big tall Lefein, but not because they knew who I was. I didn’t have to answer any questions, didn’t have to explain what happened. I could just be… alive.”

Aviva winced, but said nothing.

“Being back here is different,” Cid continued, a confused frown playing across her features. “Like you said, it’s all the same, but I’m different. Everything is right where I remember, but I see it differently -- I mean literally, it all looks so much smaller now, so much further away. I knew the lady in the bao shop, but she didn’t recognise me, and now I’m not sure mama and papa will recognise me. I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“We feel what we feel,” Aviva murmured. “For what it’s worth, I bet your parents will recognise you. Family has a way of adapting to change, even big change, and a daughter creating a new body certainly ranks up there -- and, to be fair, the concept of building a new body isn’t entirely outside your mama’s wheelhouse. What’s important is that they’ll love you no matter what you look like, or how easily you fit into their chairs.”

Despite herself, Cid chuckled. “At least their house in Scanderimus has you-sized rooms. The flat above the shop here is just a you-sized attic my parents converted into a them-sized home. I’ll have to sleep in the workshop or something.” A sudden cloud passed over her face as she realised the painful symbolism of her statement.

“They’ll figure it out,” Aviva said with a confident nod. “They’ll find a way to make it work. It may not be a quick or easy adjustment, but they’ll make it. They’re your family and they love you. Just like we do.”

“Yeah,” Cid breathed, the corners of her lips twitching just slightly. “I know.”

“Can I show you something?” Lifting the guitar from her lap and setting it aside, Aviva reached into the canvas bag. “My family has had it my whole life, and it’s the main reason I wanted to stop in Corneria. Just for this.” She produced a thick, flat object and held it out to Cid, who accepted it delicately and turned it over to look.

Behind a thin pane of glass, two Tieflings smiled, hand-sketched and lovingly painted. The man, tall and broad and sporting a short braid in his plum-coloured hair, had an arm wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, his face angled toward her with an air of playful adoration. She, petite and incredibly pregnant, had been captured mid-laugh, pressing a hand to her belly for support as she nestled herself against his side. Her hair was dark, braided over one shoulder, but the hue of her skin and the curve of her horns mirrored the Tiefling on the roof so precisely that her identity was impossible to mistake.

Cid exhaled slowly, holding the wooden frame with reverence. “Your whole family.”

“Yeah. My papa’s best friend Pippa drew this as a gift to them -- the week before I was born, though she didn’t know that part at the time. I was born a couple weeks early, and she used to joke that if she’d waited just a few days, she could have included me in the picture properly.”

“Your papa was very handsome.”

“I’ve never met a man who could surpass him.” Aviva’s smile was soft and fond. “My mama was twenty-two when she had me, and the age I am now is the age she was when she lost him. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

Resting her hand on Aviva’s knee, Cid nodded sympathetically. “That’s a heavy thing to sit with. I know how much you miss him. And her.”

“It made me realise something, though. There were people who thought she wouldn’t make it, that she’d just waste away without him. But she had me. We got through it because we had each other… just like you, and Halei, and Grummer, Wil, Maergrahn and I will get through this because we have each other. Because we’re family. A weird, found, slightly dysfunctional, but ultimately loving family.” She flushed. “It sounds kinda cheesy when I say it out loud.”

“That’s okay,” Cid grinned, her own weight seeming to lift just a little. “I like it anyway.”

Suddenly, something hard bumped into Aviva’s low back. She yelped in surprise, twisting with arm raised and ready to fire, but she stopped before she could gather the magic. “Well, look who it is!”

A large ginger cat stared back at her, utterly unfazed by the prospect of being roasted by magical flame. He stepped forward as Aviva lowered her hand, pressing his head into her palm. “My starman.”

“You know this cat?” Cid asked, stunned. “This is the cat who used to come into the shop and knock all my things over and nap in the sun!” She laughed in delighted shock. As if knowing he was the subject of their conversation, the ginger cat turned his attention to Cid, rubbing against her outstretched hand. “Is his name Starman?”

Aviva shook her head. “Nah. That’s just what I called him sometimes. He’d come sit up here with me and we’d stargaze together, so he became my starman.” She stroked his back as Cid scratched under his chin. “But it’s a pretty good name. Good to see you again, buddy.” He purred in response.

For a few minutes, they lavished attention on the ginger cat, until Aviva finally sighed. “We should be getting back, it’s near dark. I kind of wish we’d decided to spend the night here, though. We could go dancing.”

“Dancing?” Cid raised a brow. “What kind of dancing?”

“No kind, just dancing. For fun. There’s a club not far from here that a friend took me to once. I went a few times by myself after that; dancing alone is surprisingly fun if the music is loud enough.” Aviva smirked. “You did say you wanted to try new things.”

“Maybe next time.” Cid stood, brushing off the backs of her legs. “How do we get down?”

“You mean you can’t just fly us down?” Aviva asked, feigning her best innocence.

Cid gave the Tiefling her best withering look. “I can only do that once a day, cheeky.”

“Alright, alright.” Aviva strapped the guitar to her back and led the way from the roof back to her bedroom, guiding Cid through the window and latching it behind them. When they exited the back door of the shop, the ginger cat was waiting for them on the cobblestones, yawning widely before twining around Cid’s legs. They each offered him some parting scratches in turn, then made their way through the alley and out into the street.

A thin sliver of moon rose to greet them as they ambled toward the edge of the city, the Lefein and the Tiefling, the angel and the devil. Throwing an arm over Cid’s shoulders, Aviva serenaded her with a ballad she’d heard in Crescent Lake, adding in just enough drama to make her friend squeal with laughter. They must have seemed a pair of professional drunkards, supporting each other so early in the evening, but Aviva did not mind. Sometimes a bit of silliness was called for.

“Don’t look now,” Aviva muttered as the houses began to alternate with small plots of farmland, “but I think we’re being followed.”

Cid tensed, ready to reach for the gun at her hip, but when she peeked over her shoulder, her expression softened. “Starman!”

The ginger cat chirped, trotting forward when they paused and pressing his body against Aviva’s shin. She crouched to run her hand over his back, peeking up at Cid with a coy smile. “Captain… He appears to have followed us home. Can we keep him?”

Frowning in thought, Cid folded her arms. “I don’t know… What if someone doesn’t like cats?”

“Every good ship needs a cat,” Aviva countered; as if to emphasise the point, the ginger cat flopped on the ground, showing his belly as he stretched his front paws expectantly toward Cid. “And besides, if Maergrahn has a duck, I don’t think anyone can say boo.”

“That’s a valid point,” Cid conceded. “Do you think he’ll try to eat the duck?”

“This lazy little shit?” Aviva scoffed. “The only reason he learned to hunt is because I couldn’t feed him every day. He was made to be a housecat.”

“Well…” Cid mused, making a show of indecision, then broke into a grin. “I think we have room for one more. Welcome aboard, Starman.”

The ginger cat yawned.

Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm still alive When so many have died Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break and we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

(Femslash February is over, which means it’s Morgan March! It also happens to be the birthday of one of my dearest friends, Morgan’s player @stufflaalikes, so this story is a birthday gift to her. Featuring some heart-wrenchingly beautiful Lux family art by Sol’s player @b-e-m-l-t.)

#Dungeons and Dragons #Original Characters #Canon #Aviva Lux #Morgan March #Commissioned Art #Title: Hamilton #Happy birthday Laa!

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natasha-cole · 7 years

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Ready Steady Part 35

Summary: Rob and Reader attend their reception and get a little frisky.

Word Count: 4460

Warnings: fluff, swearing, and smut... honestly I don’t know how the smut happened…

Note: For the sake of the remainder of the fic, I’m using some old Louden Swain songs and making them new ones. Also, as you can tell, my reader is a singer/songwriter and a country girl at heart… so for her, instead of trying to write my own lyrics, I’m using songs by Miranda Lambert and claiming them as the reader’s own. Hey, this way, you can listen to the actual songs after you read!

Another Note: I finally did it! I wrote chapter 35! There’s more to come, but we’re getting closer to the end. This chapter ties up Vegas and time jumps a couple of months.

Catch up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27

Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34

The rest of Vegas Con had gone well. You had managed to be able to spend some time enjoying the panels, Jackson feeling as content as ever most of the time. Throughout Rob’s busy work schedule, you also managed to find time to spend together. Although the green room had always served as your safe haven at any convention, this time, you decided that a little wandering wouldn’t hurt. You hadn’t been able to actually see any of the cons the entire time you and Rob had been together. Nashville had been a whirlwind in which you spent most of your time getting to know Rob and getting caught up in your love affair. After Chicago, your entire view on wandering the conventions alone had been ruined by the incident with Chris. Even though he had been caught and jailed during that con, you hadn’t exactly felt one hundred percent safe since. You were always in the green room. There, at least you were safe.

On the third day of the con, one of the busier days, you decided that the green room had become too stifling. You enjoyed spending time with Rob and your friends there, but you also knew that there was so much more to see.

After talking with Rob about taking Jackson to check out the con, to which he agreed as long as you were accompanied by a handler, you packed Jackson up in the baby carrier and made your way to the vendor room.

The hallways were a lot more packed than you remembered they had been at past conventions, but you happily weaved your way through fans in order to see what else these cons had to offer. The vendor room was large and filled with tables adorned with various fan art, t-shirts, and memorabilia. Just as Nashville had been. Your handler kept close to your side, watching you almost hawk-like as you mindlessly wandered throughout the room.

You had stopped suddenly at the Louden Swain booth to chat with the ladies who were selling their merch. You knew them a bit, as you had met them a few times before. You stood there, talking about nothing in particular, the ladies oohing and ahhing over Jackson as you showed him off.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” You heard a voice ask from behind you. You turned to be greeted by a few girls who were obviously there for the convention, as they were sporting different Supernatural related shirts and con badges. Normally, the attention and recognition of who you were would cause you to lapse into a state of panic, but right now, you didn’t feel threatened for once.

“I’m who?” You asked with a smile.

“You’re Y/N,” one of the girls stated, “you’re the one who married Rob.”

For a split second, you did feel slightly panicked when you wondered if these fans were the type who did not approve of the wives of their favorite celebrities. But, you decided to play it cool to see if you were wrong about them.

“Uh, yeah I am.”

“Wow, it’s so great to meet you,” one of the girls beamed, “I know your music. You’ve written a lot of great songs.”

“Oh, a country fan?” You asked. It wasn’t usual to run into fans of country music at these things.

“Yeah, I’m from Tennessee, grew up on country.”

“Well, hello to my fellow Tennessean,” you said as you smiled at her.

“I was actually at your show in L.A. I heard you were doing the whole singing thing now, so I had to make the trip to see you.”

“Oh, wow, really?” You asked, “thank you, that’s really sweet of you.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re one of my favorite songwriters, so I had to support you.”

“Well, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard from anyone.”

“I have to ask though… You were supposed to be doing that show to promote yourself as an artist, and you did amazing by the way… but then you just sort of, stopped.”

“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled, “I guess sometimes life gets in the way of life.” You glanced down to Jackson, recalling the extremely emotional and difficult time you had had when you found out you were pregnant with him. Truthfully, that entire situation had derailed your professional plans, but looking back, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“You found out you were pregnant after huh?”

“Actually, I found out before that show. After I did the show, my focus just… shifted. I had more important things to think of.”

“Well, family is the most important thing.”

“It sure is.”

“Well, we just wanted to tell you congratulations. We’ve been going to these conventions for years, and Rob seems to be happier now than he has been in a long time.”

“Thank you, he makes me very happy too.”

“And your son is adorable.”

“Ah, that’s because he looks just like his daddy,” you chuckled.

“Can we get a picture with you?” One of the girls asked quickly. It caught you off guard. Never have you ever been asked to take pictures with fans, hell, you didn’t really think you actually had real fans.

“Oh, um, sure,” you stuttered, touched by the fact that they recognized you as someone they looked up to rather than just as Rob’s wife. “Just, please don’t get Jackson in the picture.”

“Of course,” the girl smiled as they moved alongside you for a pose. Your handler, who had been watching uncomfortably the entire time, made a movement toward you as if he were going to get you out of this situation. You glared at him, discouraging him from ruining this moment for anyone.

After the picture was taken and you approved of it, the girls congratulated you again and headed off. It was rather quick and painless really, not how you imagined run ins with fans to go.

When Jackson became fussy after some time in the vendor room, you left the room, your handler still hot on your heels. The events exploring the convention had been pretty unexciting and you were sure that had a lot to do with having a babysitter all morning. You had thought about ditching him at one point, but decided against it when you remembered how poorly things had gone the last time you had gone against Rob’s wishes on wandering alone. You sighed heavily as you made your way back to the green room. At least it was time for lunch and you knew Rob would be back soon.

“I think I’m ready,” you said as you picked at the food on your plate. Rob looked up at you, curious as to what you were talking about.

“Ready for what?” He asked before taking a bite of his food.

“I’m ready to get back to work.”

“Oh?” Rob’s eyes studied you.

“Yeah, I mean, I basically have a complete album, I just need to finish recording.”

Rob smiled at you. He reached out across the table, taking your hand in his. “I think that’s fantastic, Y/N.”

“Really? You don’t think I need to stay at home with the baby?”

“I think you need to do what you set out to do. Having a family shouldn’t derail your plans, it should encourage you to do what you love.”

“This means that there will be long days where I’m not home, or I get home late.”

“Okay,” he answered simply.

“You’ll be pulling lots of dad time with Jackson.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rob gave you a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“For?”

“Supporting me.”

“I believe in you,” Rob smiled. He squeezed your hand that he was still holding.

“Will you record ‘Pushin Time’ with me?” You asked. You weren’t sure why you were nervous to ask him, but you really wanted him to record it with you. In the end, the song really did encompass your entire relationship.

“Really? You want me on your album?”

“Of course I do. Couldn’t do the song without you, and I really want that song on it.”

“I’d be honored to record it with you.”

You offered Rob a cheesy grin, pleased that he was willing. The two of you finished your lunch, enjoying each other’s company as Kim and Ruth played with Jackson on the other side of the room.

You glanced over occasionally, your heart feeling as if it would burst from how happy you were. Not only were you officially married to Rob, but you had a beautiful son and a family who loved and cared for all three of you. To top it off, you had Rob’s blessing to get your career back on track, even if that meant spending a lot of time away from home. The two of you had gone through hell together, and you finally felt content to know that no matter what life threw at you; you could make it through.

2 months later

Despite having already been married for two months, the reception that had been planned to follow your actual wedding date remained on. You and Rob had quickly informed everyone that there would be no wedding in April, simply because you had eloped in Vegas already. This news was exciting to some, a bit of a letdown to others; including Rob’s family who had not been able to be a part of the excitement of Vegas. Rob’s mother let it slide after a while when you promised her that you would still go through with the reception.

It was a small peace offering really, and it took some time for her to no longer be upset over your sudden marriage that didn’t include family. As long as she was able to be a part of the reception, she seemed happy. She seemed to be becoming more and more used to you and Rob’s unconventional relationship and decided that as long as her son was happy, she was too.

The reception had been lovely; your friends who had been there for the wedding attended, along with those who couldn’t be in on the spur-of-the-moment event. Rob’s family all showed up along with your close friends that consisted of your manager and some others from the business that you had been close to over the years.

While you had originally thought that even doing the reception was a waste, you had to admit that it was nice to have everyone together to celebrate you and Rob.

“How is my wife doing?” You heard Rob’s voice come from behind you as you stood at the refreshment table. You turned to him, smiling.

“I’m doing well, husband,” you giggled, still excited to be able to call him that even two months after your wedding.

“Have you seen our son?”

“I believe he has been whisked away by your sister and is currently making the rounds visiting everyone,” you scanned the space, wondering who really had him at this point.

“I have a feeling we won’t be seeing much of him today,” Rob chuckled. You frowned, suddenly sad that Jackson wasn’t with you. It was still very difficult to be away from him.

“Thanks, now I miss my baby,” you pouted.

Rob moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Enjoy the moment,” he replied when the kiss ended, “after tonight is over, we’re back to it just being the three of us and back to being interrupted.”

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in again for another kiss.

“What are you suggesting, Benedict?” you asked slyly.

Rob raised a brow at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“I’m suggesting that we sneak off to one of the rooms in the house and fool around.”

“It’s not our house,” you replied, blushing slightly at his proposal.

“That’s what makes it exciting,” he said as he grabbed your hand, leading you toward the house.

You laughed, but followed him as he led you inside. It might be a bit risqué, but the man certainly knew how to keep things interesting.

Once inside, you both agreed on sneaking off to a guest room. The entire house was empty since everyone had gathered outside to mingle at the party. Still, you chose a room at the far end of the house to avoid getting caught. You giggled as Rob pulled you into the room, closing the door behind you before he immediately pounced on you. He pushed you down onto the bed and pulled the bottom of your dress up before he laid on top of you. You could feel the hardness in his pants as he moved against you, causing you to gasp.

“Rob, are we going to do this or what?” you panted, desperately working at removing his shirt.

“Yeah,” he replied breathless, “but we don’t want to get caught, gotta do it quick.”

He crashes his lips into yours, tongue delving into your mouth as he tasted you. You moaned against his mouth, excited now as he continued to grind into you.

“You locked the door, right?” you asked suddenly, glancing over nervously at the bedroom door.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. He stood up swiftly, reaching down to remove your underwear. He promptly removed his pants and boxers, kicking his shoes off as he tried to scramble out of his clothes.

You knew you wouldn’t get caught fooling around, the door was locked after all; but the idea of having to do this quickly to avoid getting caught was exciting. You reached for him when he finally got out of some of his clothing, pulling him back on top of you. He kissed you again and you could feel his hand move between your legs, his fingers teasing at your entrance. You moaned out loud, prompting him to press his mouth harder against yours to stifle the sound. When he pulled back, he gave you a disapproving look.

“Keep making sounds like that, someone will hear,” he warned. He continued to work his fingers into you until he decided that you were ready for him. Everything was happening so quickly, you couldn’t catch your breath. You gasped as he suddenly pushed himself into you. He groaned quietly against your ear as he pressed his hands down on the bed on either side of your head. Before you could even prepare yourself, he was rocking his hips into you. You grasped onto him, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of him. You must have been making a lot of noise, because he kept his lips on yours, pressing his mouth harder on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth as he thrust into you repeatedly. All you could do was moan into his mouth, unable to stop yourself.

You enjoyed the lovemaking the two of you normally did, but for some reason, this quickie was very exciting. The idea of messing around in someone else’s room while your friends were outside for your own wedding reception had you on edge. You pulled your mouth from Rob’s when you felt like you couldn’t breathe any more. You watched him, gasping as quietly as you could with each push of his hips against yours.

“Quiet, baby,” he said as he continued to move.

Just as you could feel your release building up, Rob’s movements became frantic. He moved faster and harder against you, causing you to want to cry out. Instead, you grabbed the back of Rob’s head, pulling him down so that you could kiss him and hopefully stifle your sounds.

You were closer now and you moaned into his mouth, probably louder than you should have. Just as you were sure you were about to be pushed over the edge, you heard a distinct knock coming from the other side of the bedroom door. Rob stilled himself immediately; both you panting as quietly as you could against each other’s mouths.

“Bob-o, you in there?” You heard Rich’s voice ask curiously from the other side.

“Jesus Christ,” Rob whispered, still trying to steady his breathing. You figured you’d both try to remain quiet, hope that Rich would just go away when no one answered.

“Okay, I know you’re both in there,” Rich continued, “this is awkward, but everyone is ready to give toasts and all that stuff.”

“Oh my god!” Rob shouted, “can you just give us a few minutes!?”

You heard Rich chuckle, “really? Just a few minutes?”

“Go away! We’ll be out in a bit!” You laughed as Rob yelled at Rich, obviously irritated that you had been interrupted.

“Okay, have fun, don’t ruin the sheets.”

You both waited for a moment, listening for sounds on the other side of the door.

“Do you think he’s gone?” You breathed out.

“Fuck it,” Rob replied, moving against you again, “let him listen if he really wants to.”

You grinned, feeling really turned on at this spur-of-the-moment, risqué version of Rob. This time, you didn’t hold back as he continued to fuck you. Although he still tried to keep you quiet by kissing you, you moaned and swore as your climax built up again. When it finally broke, you threw your head back, gripping into the comforter as you came. You were sure you had screamed his name, swearing out loud at how amazing this felt right now. You half expected him to scold you, but he came not long after you; swearing and grunting against your neck.

Once the two of you had steadied yourselves, breathing returning to normal, he stood up and dressed quickly. You did the same, body still shaking as you came down from your high.

“That was so fucking hot,” you purred as you wrapped your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his neck as you dropped soft kisses against his skin.

“Even if we did get caught?” He laughed.

“Oh yeah, that was exciting,” you grinned when you pulled away from him and headed for the door.

“Everyone’s gonna be able to tell that we just did it,” he said. He was right. You were both a mess; clothing wrinkled, hair disheveled; but you didn’t care.

“Good,” you said as you shot him a wink, “let them know that we can’t get enough of each other.”

The rest of the night, you and Rob exchanged sly glances; still very much excited over the impromptu quickie that you had had during your reception. You were certain that everyone was aware of the reason why you had disappeared, and you were also certain that Rich was much more aware than anyone else. While you expected him to tease you about it all night, the man avoided eye contact most of the night, obviously a bit embarrassed over having heard you and Rob.

Regardless, the reception had gone on as they usually do. Some friends and family took the time to give small speeches about the two of you. Some were emotional, pointing out the difficult things you had gone through to get where you were today. Others were fun and filled with stories that made everyone laugh.

You realized now just how lucky you were. It had been evident to you since your wedding, but hearing all of these people share their favorite stories about you and Rob only made you feel more welcome. You stared at Rob adoringly, still asking yourself how you had managed to keep him after everything that you had put him through. You looked over at Jackson, who was now being held by Jensen’s wife, Daneel. He had certainly been introduced to the entire extended family today and it warmed your heart to know that he was going to have something that you never had as a child.

You were broken from your thoughts as Rob stood up to say a few words.

“We just want to say again how grateful we are to have all of you in our lives,” he began, “my family who has welcomed Y/N into their lives, friends who have become her friends… if it weren’t for all of you, I don’t know that we would have made it through some of those tough times that tested our relationship. Honestly, it’s because of so many of you that we are here today; married, parents to an amazing little boy, and generally still kicking.”

There were a few soft chuckles, everyone knowing that what he was saying was accurate.

“So, thank you all. I especially want to thank my extended Supernatural family for always interfering, thank you for offering advice and shoulders to cry on during the tough times, thank you for being aunts and uncles to Jackson, thank you for accepting Y/N into your lives just as much as I have, and thank you for being a family to my little family.”

The last few words came out quietly as he tried not to choke up. Rob raised his glass of champagne, everyone following suit. His words were simple really, but they meant a lot to not only you, but your friends. You smiled warmly at Rob as he returned to his seat, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it tightly.

“As the best man, I have something to say.” You and Rob turned your attention to Rich who was now standing, ready to give his toast. Rob bit his lip, unsure if it was a good idea to let the man speak after what he had just heard in the house.

“I’ve watched these two go through it all,” he continued, “I watched them meet, fall in love, and go through the devastation of a breakup. I can say, with confidence, that these two have been through hell, but they always come out on the other side; just as in love as they were in the beginning, and stronger. I took Y/N to the hospital when she was pregnant and sick, I talked her down when she was panicked over Rob proposing to her. I watched Rob get his heart broken, and spend a good amount of time reminding him why he shouldn’t give up on this one. I don’t think their relationship makes a lot of sense to most people, but I know for a fact that it is the only relationship that makes sense for these two. Despite all the hard times, which unfortunately overshadowed all the good, they have finally found each other again. And they have brought a handsome little man into this world, who, by the way, is named after me.”

Rob groaned, rolling his eyes as you laughed at Rich’s words.

“What I’m trying to say, is that their relationship may not have been perfect in the beginning, but they are perfect for each other.” Rich turned to look at you and Rob, raising his glass to toast you. “Here’s to real love. Love that doesn’t come easy, love that seems impossible at first, love that gets to where it needs to be eventually.”

You smiled at Rich, raising your own glass as everyone did the same. His words were truly touching, and you knew you had made a good choice in confiding in him all those times.

“Also, they just did it in my guest room, so I guess it’s safe to say that they’re still pretty crazy about each other,” Rich added as he shot you a wink before downing his champagne in one go. You could feel your face turn red as you tried to hide it by pressing into Rob’s chest. You still couldn’t help but laugh as Rob shook his head at his friend. Most of the party laughed at Rich’s little addition to his speech, and you knew that it was all in good fun. After all, you were pretty certain everyone could tell anyway.

At the end of the night, you had finally found Jackson again; this time, sleeping in the arms of Misha. You collected your sleeping baby, giving Misha a kiss on the cheek as he and his family headed out now that the party was over. You were exhausted after having said goodbye to everyone, and you searched for Rob so that you could also head home. When you found him, he was saying goodnight to Rich and Jaci, thanking them for holding the reception at their home. You blushed again when you remembered how you and Rob had messed around in their guest room. Rich didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you in for a hug, careful not to squish Jackson who was snuggled against you, still fast asleep.

“You crazy kids have a good night,” Rich chuckled, waving at you as you and Rob started toward the car.

“We did and we will,” Rob replied. He put his arm around you as you walked.

“Yeah, I’ll send you the bill for that,” Rich said.

“I’m sorry!” you called out to him, still a bit embarrassed that you had actually done that.

“Don’t be,” he replied, “it’s good to know my friends have a healthy sex life.”

“Dammit, Rich.” Rob mumbled, picking up his pace as if he were trying to leave quicker.

You only laughed at Rob’s own embarrassment, waving to Rich and Jaci as you left the backyard.

Rob drove home; Jackson sleeping soundly in his car seat, you, watching Rob fondly as he focused on the road. You really were lucky. You recalled how you and Rob had discussed luck and fate once before. You hadn’t been too keen on the idea of either of those back then, not like Rob had been. Right now though, you knew that it had definitely been fate that kept you two together after all this time and luck also had a lot to do with it. You leaned in suddenly, reaching over to kiss him on the cheek as he drove.

“What was that for?” he asked, glancing over at you briefly.

“Just because I’m madly in love with you and I want to never stop kissing you,” you replied. You reached out a hand, brushing your fingertips along the spot that you had just kissed.

Rob grinned at your words, looking over at you quickly, those blue eyes sparkling.

“I love you too, Y/N. When we get home, I’m going to kiss you all night long.”

“When will we sleep!” you exclaimed dramatically, giggling at the thought of making out with your husband all night long. You weren’t sure why, but tonight; Rob had you feeling like a teenager in love for the first time.

“We’ll sleep in tomorrow,” he replied, “we have all the time in the world to do anything we want.”

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#ready steady #rob benedict x reader #rob benedict fan fiction

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thefortyeightlawsofpower-blog · 7 years

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LAW # 19 : KNOW WHO YOU’RE DEALING WITH—DO NOT OFFEND THE WRONG PERSON

JUDGEMENT

There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmaneuver some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then—never of fend or deceive the wrong person.

OPPONENTS, SUCKERS, AND VICTIMS: Preliminary Typology In your rise to power you will come across many breeds of opponent, sucker, and victim. The highest form of the art of power is the ability to distinguish the wolves from the lambs, the foxes from the hares, the hawks from the vultures. If you make this distinction well, you will succeed without needing to coerce anyone too much. But if you deal blindly with whomever crosses your path, you will have a life of constant sorrow, if you even live that long. Being able to recognize types of people, and to act accordingly, is critical. The following are the five most dangerous and difficult types of mark in the jungle, as identified by artists—con and otherwise—of the past.

When you meet a swordsman, draw your sword: Do not recite poetry to one who is not a poet.

FROM A CH’AN BUDDHIST CLASSIC, QUOTED IN THUNDER IN THE SKY, TRANSLATED BY THOMAS CLEARY, 1993

The Arrogant and Proud Man. Although he may initially disguise it, this man’s touchy pride makes him very dangerous. Any perceived slight will lead to a vengeance of overwhelming violence. You may say to yourself, “But I only said such-and-such at a party, where everyone was drunk....” It does not matter. There is no sanity behind his overreaction, so do not waste time trying to figure him out. If at any point in your dealings with a person you sense an oversensitive and overactive pride, flee. Whatever you are hoping for from him isn’t worth it.

THE REVENGE OF LOPE. DE AGUIRRE

[Lope de] Aguirre’s character is amply illustrated in an anecdote from the chronicle of Garcilaso de la Vega, who related that in 1548 Aguirre was a member of a platoon of soldiers escorting Indian slaves from the mines at Potosi [Bolivia] to a royal treasury depot. The Indians were illegally burdened with great quantities of silver, and a local official arrested Aguirre, sentencing him to receive two hundred lashes in lieu of a fine for oppressing the Indians. “The soldier Aguirre, having received a notification of the sentence, besought the alcalde that, instead of flogging him, he would put him to death, for that he was a gentleman by birth.... All this had no effect on the alcalde, who ordered the executioner to bring a beast, and execute the sentence. The executioner came to the prison, and put Aguirre on the beast.... The beast was driven on, and he received the lashes....” When freed, Aguirre announced his intention of killing the official who had sentenced him, the alcalde Esquivel. Esquivel’s term of office expired and he fled to Lima. three hundred twenty leagues away, but within fifteen days Aguirre had tracked him there. The frightened judge journeyed to Quito, a trip of four hundred leagues, and in twenty days Aguirre arrived. “When Esquivel heard of his presence, ” according to Garcilaso, “he made another journey of five hundred leagues to Cuzco; but in a few days Aguirre also arrived, having travelled on foot and without shoes, saying that a whipped man has no business to ride a horse, or to go where he would be seen by others. In this way, Aguirre followed his judge for three years, and four months.” Wearying of the pursuit, Esquivel remained at Cuzco, a city so sternly governed that he felt he would be safe from Aguirre. He took a house near the cathedral and never ventured outdoors without a sword and a dagger. “However, on a certain Monday, at noon, Aguirre entered his house, and having walked all over it, and having traversed a corridor, a saloon, a chamber, and an inner chamber where the judge kept his books, he at last found him asleep over one of his books, and stabbed him to death. The murderer then went out, but when he came to the door of the house, he found that he had forgotten his hat, and had the temerity to return and fetch it, and then walked down the street.”

THE GOLDEN DREAM: SEEKERS OF EL DORADO, WALKER CHAPMAN, 1967

The Hopelessly Insecure Man. This man is related to the proud and arrogant type, but is less violent and harder to spot. His ego is fragile, his sense of self insecure, and if he feels himself deceived or attacked, the hurt will simmer. He will attack you in bites that will take forever to get big enough for you to notice. If you find you have deceived or harmed such a man, disappear for a long time. Do not stay around him or he will nibble you to death.

Mr. Suspicion. Another variant on the breeds above, this is a future Joe Stalin. He sees what he wants to see—usually the worst—in other people, and imagines that everyone is after him. Mr. Suspicion is in fact the least dangerous of the three: Genuinely unbalanced, he is easy to deceive, just as Stalin himself was constantly deceived. Play on his suspicious nature to get him to turn against other people. But if you do become the target of his suspicions, watch out.

The Serpent with a Long Memory. If hurt or deceived, this man will show no anger on the surface; he will calculate and wait. Then, when he is in a position to turn the tables, he will exact a revenge marked by a cold-blooded shrewdness. Recognize this man by his calculation and cunning in the different areas of his life. He is usually cold and unaffectionate. Be doubly careful of this snake, and if you have somehow injured him, either crush him completely or get him out of your sight.

The Plain, Unassuming, and Often Unintelligent Man. Ah, your ears prick up when you find such a tempting victim. But this man is a lot harder to deceive than you imagine. Falling for a ruse often takes intelligence and imagination—a sense of the possible rewards. The blunt man will not take the bait because he does not recognize it. He is that unaware. The danger with this man is not that he will harm you or seek revenge, but merely that he will waste your time, energy, resources, and even your sanity in trying to deceive him. Have a test ready for a mark—a joke, a story. If his reaction is utterly literal, this is the type you are dealing with. Continue at your own risk.

TRANSGRESSIONS OF THE LAW

Transgression I

In the early part of the thirteenth century, Muhammad, the shah of Khwarezm, managed after many wars to forge a huge empire, extending west to present-day Turkey and south to Afghanistan. The empire’s center was the great Asian capital of Samarkand. The shah had a powerful, well-trained army, and could mobilize 200,000 warriors within days.

In 1219 Muhammad received an embassy from a new tribal leader to the east, Genghis Khan. The embassy included all sorts of gifts to the great Muhammad, representing the finest goods from Khan’s small but growing Mongol empire. Genghis Khan wanted to reopen the Silk Route to Europe, and offered to share it with Muhammad, while promising peace between the two empires.

Muhammad did not know this upstart from the east, who, it seemed to him, was extremely arrogant to try to talk as an equal to one so clearly his superior. He ignored Khan’s offer. Khan tried again: This time he sent a caravan of a hundred camels filled with the rarest articles he had plundered from China. Before the caravan reached Muhammad, however, Inalchik, the governor of a region bordering on Samarkand, seized it for himself, and executed its leaders.

Genghis Khan was sure that this was a mistake—that Inalchik had acted without Muhammad’s approval. He sent yet another mission to Muhammad, reiterating his offer and asking that the governor be punished. This time Muhammad himself had one of the ambassadors beheaded, and sent the other two back with shaved heads—a horrifying insult in the Mongol code of honor. Khan sent a message to the shah: “You have chosen war. What will happen will happen, and what it is to be we know not; only God knows.” Mobilizing his forces, in 1220 he attacked Inalchik’s province, where he seized the capital, captured the governor, and ordered him executed by having molten silver poured into his eyes and ears.

Over the next year, Khan led a series of guerrilla-like campaigns against the shah’s much larger army. His method was totally novel for the time—his soldiers could move very fast on horseback, and had mastered the art of firing with bow and arrow while mounted. The speed and flexibility of his forces allowed him to deceive Muhammad as to his intentions and the directions of his movements. Eventually he managed first to surround Samarkand, then to seize it. Muhammad fled, and a year later died, his vast empire broken and destroyed. Genghis Khan was sole master of Samarkand, the Silk Route, and most of northern Asia.

Interpretation

Never assume that the person you are dealing with is weaker or less important than you are. Some men are slow to take offense, which may make you misjudge the thickness of their skin, and fail to worry about insulting them. But should you offend their honor and their pride, they will overwhelm you with a violence that seems sudden and extreme given their slowness to anger. If you want to turn people down, it is best to do so politely and respectfully, even if you feel their request is impudent or their offer ridiculous. Never reject them with an insult until you know them better; you may be dealing with a Genghis Khan.

THE CROW AND THE SHEEP

A troublesome Crow seated herself on the back of a Sheep. The Sheep, much against his will, carried her backward and forward for a long time, and at last said, “If you had treated a dog in this way, you would have had your deserts from his sharp teeth.”To this the Crow replied, “I despise the weak, and yield to the strong. I know whom I may bully, and whom I must flatter; and thus I hope to prolong my life to a good old age.

FABLES, AESOP, SIXTH CENTURY B.C.

Transgression II

In the late 1910s some of the best swindlers in America formed a con-artist ring based in Denver, Colorado. In the winter months they would spread across the southern states, plying their trade. In 1920 Joe Furey, a leader of the ring, was working his way through Texas, making hundreds of thousands of dollars with classic con games. In Fort Worth, he met a sucker named J. Frank Norfleet, a cattleman who owned a large ranch. Norfleet fell for the con. Convinced of the riches to come, he emptied his bank account of $45,000 and handed it over to Furey and his confederates. A few days later they gave him his “millions,” which turned out to be a few good dollars wrapped around a packet of newspaper clippings.

Furey and his men had worked such cons a hundred times before, and the sucker was usually so embarrassed by his gullibility that he quietly learned his lesson and accepted the loss. But Norfleet was not like other suckers. He went to the police, who told him there was little they could do. “Then I’ll go after those people myself,” Norfleet told the detectives. “I’ll get them, too, if it takes the rest of my life.” His wife took over the ranch as Norfleet scoured the country, looking for others who had been fleeced in the same game. One such sucker came forward, and the two men identified one of the con artists in San Francisco, and managed to get him locked up. The man committed suicide rather than face a long term in prison.

Norfleet kept going. He tracked down another of the con artists in Montana, roped him like a calf, and dragged him through the muddy streets to the town jail. He traveled not only across the country but to England, Canada, and Mexico in search of Joe Furey, and also of Furey’s right-hand man, W. B. Spencer. Finding Spencer in Montreal, Norfleet chased him through the streets. Spencer escaped but the rancher stayed on his trail and caught up with him in Salt Lake City. Preferring the mercy of the law to Norfleet’s wrath, Spencer turned himself in.

Norfleet found Furey in Jacksonville, Florida, and personally hauled him off to face justice in Texas. But he wouldn’t stop there: He continued on to Denver, determined to break up the entire ring. Spending not only large sums of money but another year of his life in the pursuit, he managed to put all of the con ring’s leaders behind bars. Even some he didn’t catch had grown so terrified of him that they too turned themselves in.

After five years of hunting, Norfleet had single-handedly destroyed the country’s largest confederation of con artists. The effort bankrupted him and ruined his marriage, but he died a satisfied man.

Interpretation

Most men accept the humiliation of being conned with a sense of resignation. They learn their lesson, recognizing that there is no such thing as a free lunch, and that they have usually been brought down by their own greed for easy money. Some, however, refuse to take their medicine. Instead of reflecting on their own gullibility and avarice, they see themselves as totally innocent victims.

Men like this may seem to be crusaders for justice and honesty, but they are actually immoderately insecure. Being fooled, being conned, has activated their self-doubt, and they are desperate to repair the damage. Were the mortgage on Norfleet’s ranch, the collapse of his marriage, and the years of borrowing money and living in cheap hotels worth his revenge over his embarrassment at being fleeced? To the Norfleets of the world, overcoming their embarrassment is worth any price.

All people have insecurities, and often the best way to deceive a sucker is to play upon his insecurities. But in the realm of power, everything is a question of degree, and the person who is decidedly more insecure than the average mortal presents great dangers. Be warned: If you practice deception or trickery of any sort, study your mark well. Some people’s insecurity and ego fragility cannot tolerate the slightest offense. To see if you are dealing with such a type, test them first—make, say, a mild joke at their expense. A confident person will laugh; an overly insecure one will react as if personally insulted. If you suspect you are dealing with this type, find another victim.

Transgression III

In the fifth century B.C., Ch‘ung-erh, the prince of Ch’in (in present-day China), had been forced into exile. He lived modestly—even, sometimes, in poverty—waiting for the time when he could return home and resume his princely life. Once he was passing through the state of Cheng, where the ruler, not knowing who he was, treated him rudely. The ruler’s minister, Shu Chan, saw this and said, “This man is a worthy prince. May Your Highness treat him with great courtesy and thereby place him under an obligation!” But the ruler, able to see only the prince’s lowly station, ignored this advice and insulted the prince again. Shu Chan again warned his master, saying, “If Your Highness cannot treat Ch’ung-erh with courtesy, you should put him to death, to avoid calamity in the future.” The ruler only scoffed.

Years later, the prince was finally able to return home, his circumstances greatly changed. He did not forget who had been kind to him, and who had been insolent, during his years of poverty. Least of all did he forget his treatment at the hands of the ruler of Cheng. At his first opportunity he assembled a vast army and marched on Cheng, taking eight cities, destroying the kingdom, and sending the ruler into an exile of his own. Interpretation

You can never be sure who you are dealing with. A man who is of little importance and means today can be a person of power tomorrow. We forget a lot in our lives, but we rarely forget an insult.

How was the ruler of Cheng to know that Prince Ch’ung-erh was an ambitious, calculating, cunning type, a serpent with a long memory? There was really no way for him to know, you may say—but since there was no way, it would have been better not to tempt the fates by finding out. There is nothing to be gained by insulting a person unnecessarily. Swallow the impulse to offend, even if the other person seems weak. The satisfaction is meager compared to the danger that someday he or she will be in a position to hurt you.

Transgression IV

The year of 1920 had been a particularly bad one for American art dealers. Big buyers—the robber-baron generation of the previous century—were getting to an age where they were dying off like flies, and no new millionaires had emerged to take their place. Things were so bad that a number of the major dealers decided to pool their resources, an unheard-of event, since art dealers usually get along like cats and dogs.

Joseph Duveen, art dealer to the richest tycoons of America, was suffering more than the others that year, so he decided to go along with this alliance. The group now consisted of the five biggest dealers in the country. Looking around for a new client, they decided that their last best hope was Henry Ford, then the wealthiest man in America. Ford had yet to venture into the art market, and he was such a big target that it made sense for them to work together.

The dealers decided to assemble a list, “The 100 Greatest Paintings in the World” (all of which they happened to have in stock), and to offer the lot of them to Ford. With one purchase he could make himself the world’s greatest collector. The consortium worked for weeks to produce a magnificent object: a three-volume set of books containing beautiful reproductions of the paintings, as well as scholarly texts accompanying each picture. Next they made a personal visit to Ford at his home in Dearborn, Michigan. There they were surprised by the simplicity of his house: Mr. Ford was obviously an extremely unaffected man.

Ford received them in his study. Looking through the book, he expressed astonishment and delight. The excited dealers began imagining the millions of dollars that would shortly flow into their coffers. Finally, however, Ford looked up from the book and said, “Gentlemen, beautiful books like these, with beautiful colored pictures like these, must cost an awful lot!” “But Mr. Ford!” exclaimed Duveen, “we don’t expect you to buy these books. We got them up especially for you, to show you the pictures. These books are a present to you.” Ford seemed puzzled. “Gentlemen,” he said, “it is extremely nice of you, but I really don’t see how I can accept a beautiful, expensive present like this from strangers.” Duveen explained to Ford that the reproductions in the books showed paintings they had hoped to sell to him. Ford finally understood. “But gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “what would I want with the original pictures when the ones right here in these books are so beautiful?”

Interpretation

Joseph Duveen prided himself on studying his victims and clients in advance, figuring out their weaknesses and the peculiarities of their tastes before he ever met them. He was driven by desperation to drop this tactic just once, in his assault on Henry Ford. It took him months to recover from his misjudgment, both mentally and monetarily. Ford was the unassuming plain-man type who just isn’t worth the bother. He was the incarnation of those literal-minded folk who do not possess enough imagination to be deceived. From then on, Duveen saved his energies for the Mellons and Morgans of the world—men crafty enough for him to entrap in his snares.

KEYS TO POWER

The ability to measure people and to know who you’re dealing with is the most important skill of all in gathering and conserving power. Without it you are blind: Not only will you offend the wrong people, you will choose the wrong types to work on, and will think you are flattering people when you are actually insulting them. Before embarking on any move, take the measure of your mark or potential opponent. Otherwise you will waste time and make mistakes. Study people’s weaknesses, the chinks in their armor, their areas of both pride and insecurity. Know their ins and outs before you even decide whether or not to deal with them.

Two final words of caution: First, in judging and measuring your opponent, never rely on your instincts. You will make the greatest mistakes of all if you rely on such inexact indicators. Nothing can substitute for gathering concrete knowledge. Study and spy on your opponent for however long it takes; this will pay off in the long run.

Second, never trust appearances. Anyone with a serpent’s heart can use a show of kindness to cloak it; a person who is blustery on the outside is often really a coward. Learn to see through appearances and their contradictions. Never trust the version that people give of themselves—it is utterly unreliable.

Image: The Hunter. He does not lay the same trap for a wolf as for a fox. He does not set bait where no one will take it. He knows his prey thoroughly, its habits and hideaways, and hunts accordingly.

Authority: Be convinced, that there are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, some time or other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which they certainly will not, if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it for ever. (Lord Chesterfield, 1694-1773)

REVERSAL

What possible good can come from ignorance about other people? Learn to tell the lions from the lambs or pay the price. Obey this law to its fullest extent; it has no reversal—do not bother looking for one.

#writing #words #quotes #poetry #books

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euphxmia-pxtter-blog · 7 years

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The True Epilogue (a Harry Potter fanfic)

*in which all my ships are true and things are great* Several pairs of curious eyes followed the family of five as they pushed through the crowd at Kings Cross Station toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Atop the packed trolleys that the parents pushed were two cages- one containing a beautiful snowy owl and the other a badger, which made grumpy noises every few seconds. "Hang in there, Comet," the black-haired boy said placatingly. "I know it's no fun, but you've got to behave." "I don't know why you had to bring the stupid thing anyway," his brother said, rolling his eyes. "It's not on the approved list." "Yes, but he's injured!" "All your pets are or were injured." "And he has separation anxiety!" "I bet they'll take it away from you." "James!" their father scolded as Matthew's bright blue eyes widened in fear. "Don't say things like that. Your dad and I wrote to Headmistress McGonagall in advance, and she said it was fine." Draco put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "No one is going to take Comet away." "Hey," Harry said suddenly, "there's Ginny, Luna, and the girls." The youngest Potter shrieked and made to run toward the family friends, but Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Callisto Ariana Potter, what have we told you about running off?" he scolded. She smiled cheekily. "Not to do it, I think." "Well, you think right. Look, here they are now, anyway." The other family reached them, and there were cheerful greetings all around. "So, shall we cross over?" Luna asked, and Ginny nodded. Their oldest daughter, Nymphadora, took a step forward, but her sister exclaimed, "Wait!" Nym raised an eye brow. "What is it, Gillian?" The redhead bounced excitedly on her toes as she answered. "This is Matty and my first year going through as actual students, so we should get to go first!" Matt held up both hands to show that he was not a part of this. Nym was already squinting, though. "I say, whoever gets through first gets through first," she said challengingly. She and Gillian turned and raced for the barrier together, disappearing through it within a second of each other. Ginny sighed in exasperation, pushing a trolley forward to follow them. Luna only looked amused as she trailed after her wife. Callisto tugged on Draco's sleeve. "I thought you said no running," she told him, frowning. "Yes, but I can't control what they do. They're not my children." This argument lost its value, though, when James pushed ahead through the barrier as well. Harry groaned. "I promise I'll talk to him, Callie," he said to avoid the rising complaints. The rest of the family followed James. "Can I go this year, Daddy?" Callie asked. Harry shook his head with a chuckle. "Just one more year, sweetheart." She scowled and stamped the ground. "Dad?" Matt said as James boarded the train with Nym (though Gillian stayed behind to wait). "Do you know what House I'm gonna be in?" Harry smiled and shook his head. "No one knows for sure ahead of time," he said, "but I know you'll be great no matter what." "And luckily," Draco added, "you know kids in every House, so you'll always have someone to talk to." Callie tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I'm gonna be a Slytherin," she said confidently. A little bit of pride shone in Draco's eyes. "I don't doubt it." "Alright, Matt. Go on and take your stuff," Harry said gently. "You and Gillian should get on board. You don't want to get left behind. Matt nodded and moved toward the train, then swiveled and threw himself into his father's arms. "I'm gonna miss you," he said. Harry hugged him hard. "I'll miss you too, kiddo." Matt hugged Draco too, and then he and Gillian got their stuff and waded through the small crowd to the train door. "We'll write!" Draco called after him. "Every day, if you want!" Harry added. Matt gave them a slightly wavering grin before disappearing. __________ Matthew thought he was ready for the Sorting. He thought he'd either be in Gryffindor, like Harry, or Slytherin like Draco. He definitely was not expecting the Sorting Hat to yell out "HUFFLEPUFF!" the moment it touched his head. To ecstatic cheers from his new Housemates, he made his way dazedly toward the Hufflepuff table. He'd heard Hufflepuffs called 'duffers' and 'goody two-shoes' and even once 'the stoner House', none of which sounded very positive to Matt. Still, he put on a brave face. A cobalt-haired Teddy Lupin clapped him on the back as he sat down. "Glad to have you, Matt!" he enthused. That's right! Teddy's a Hufflepuff, and he's not so bad. This thought didn't erase his disappointment entirely, but it did help. What helped even more was hearing another shout of "HUFFLEPUFF!" immediately following a call of "Weasley, Gillian". Matt broke into a grin as his best friend sat beside him. "I can't believe I'm a Hufflepuff," he stage-whispered to her. Surprisingly, she rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh, please. Like you could have been anything else." His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?" "Let's see. For starters, you're a vegetarian. You always get one of your dads to take you to random volunteer things. You never let anyone get away with saying mean things. You take in injured animals- you've literally got twenty different pets now, if you hadn't noticed- and your favorite just happens to be a badger, the symbol of Hufflepuff House. Honestly, if you'd been sorted anywhere else, I would have died of surprise." Matt laughed. "Well, when you put it like that." Any remaining worries he had about his Sorting vanished the moment they stepped foot in the common room. It was vastly wide and round, with honey-colored walls. The lighting was a mixture of natural light coming through the circular windows and and a warmer, golden light shining from within glass spheres on intricately carved stands. The room itself felt like mid-autumn and laughter. Best of all, there were animals. Matt suddenly understood why the Headmistress had given in to his parents' request to accept Comet so quickly. There were maybe two dozen creatures- some magical (like a pixie and a clutter of puffskeins), some nonmagical (like a hawk, a dog, a rabbit, and a beautiful peacock). Matt heard a loud noise and turned. "Comet!" The excited badger barreled across the room and into his legs. Matt crooned as he and Gillian bent down to pet it. A few of their new Housemates crowded around to coo at the addition to their strange zoo. "I think this little guy will be happy here," Teddy said. "As far as I know, we've never had a badger. Which is honestly ridiculous, given our symbol." Matt laughed. I think I'm gonna like it here. __________ James had never felt so ashamed and rejected. The words still echoed in his head. "Not the right fit," they had said. He, James Alexander Potter, wasn't the right fit for Gryffindor seeker. It was humiliating. After all, his own dad had supposedly been the best seeker Gryffindor ever had, and Draco had been his Slytherin counterpart. Yet James had failed. It wasn't that James was vain or inflexible- when they said he'd make a better chaser, he'd tried out with all his effort and scored the spot. It was a matter of belonging. James, the oldest, was the only one of the Potter children who wasn't the biological child of either parent. Matt was Harry's- as anyone could see by the untamable hair and the awkward knobby knees. Callie was Draco's- again apparent by the blonde hair and the confident ambition. James was alone with his plain brown hair and hazel eyes and his (apparent) lack of Seeking skills. To add insult to injury, this meant he was the only one with no blood ties to the Lovegood/Weasley family, which had been interwoven with the Potters' in the cases of Matt and Callie, as well as Nym and Gillian. In any case, he wasn't sure what to do now. He had no other way to prove himself worthy of being the son of the Chosen One. "You know it doesn't matter to them," Aiden Finnigan told him. "Your dads, I mean. You're their son, and they love you." They were in the Gryffindor common room that evening, and James gazed into the fire, only half-listening as he dwelled on his own shame. He sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just... man, you know I don't normally care what people think of me, but this is different. People look at Matt and they see Harry Potter. They don't even act much alike, but Matt's got the look and that's enough for everyone. Me, what have I got?" "Bravery, willingness, an open mind, a mischievous nature, and great taste in friends." James looked up from the fire for the first time in ten minutes, a ghost of a smile crossing his face, and gave his best friend a light push. "Hey, I'm serious," Aiden continued. "I mean, I'm not much like either of my dads. I mean, I've been told I look like a Finnigan, but I definitely don't act like one. And Dad #2 likes to joke that I got my extreme height from him, even though I don't carry any of his blood. I don't act much like him either. And that doesn't bother me. We're not meant to be pale echoes of our parents anyway; we're meant to find and shape our own identities." James nodded. "I suppose you're right." "As always." "Oh, shut it." A few days later, James's owl showed up at breakfast with a letter from Harry. Jamie- I heard you made the Quidditch team, and I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it if you wanted to- I've watched you fly, and you're fantastic. Make sure to keep your nerves in check before games, okay? Ron can vouch for the fact that anxiety is a Quidditch player's worst enemy. I'm not worried, though. Oh, I wish your Grandpa James could see you now. You know I never got to see him play, but he was a Chaser too in his day- don't know if I ever told you that. He was also a hell of a prankster, just like you. McGonagall won't tell you anything, because she can't be seen condoning troublemaking, but if you see Fred floating around, he'll tell you all the use he and George got out of the Marauders Map when they were students. Grandpa James is the one known as Prongs. I wish I could show you the map personally, but it went blank when Teddy's dad died- he was the last Marauder standing; they called him Moony. Sorry, I've gone off on a tangent. My point is, we're all proud of you, and your grandparents would be too. Lots of love, -Dad James was stunned. His grandfather, the one he had been named for, was a Gryffindor chaser? How had he not known? He re-read the note once, twice. It appeared that he was a bit of a Potter after all. He was curious about this Map thing too; he'd better find Fred. __________ Ben was tired. Okay, maybe that was an understatement. "Exhausted" might have worked better; "barely functioning" was near perfect. He was tired because it was midnight and he was sitting in the hallway outside his common room. He was physically capable of going inside and lying down in his nice warm bed to sleep, but he could never do that. Neither could the thirteen other Slytherins sitting out in the hallway with him, including Nym. A prefect had come out three times now to order them all to bed, but no one budged. "I'm not stepping foot in that place until they change the password," Ben had told her the third time she came out. She had thrown up her hands and not come back, which earned Ben a few pats on the back. The hallway was quiet enough that Ben could hear the footsteps long before anyone appeared down the far end. "Someone's coming," he whispered. Everyone tensed. Would they be punished for this? Ben hoped not, but he needn't have worried. He let out a breath of relief when he saw Teddy Lupin heading toward them. The Head Boy had probably been summoned to help mitigate the situation. "What's going on here, guys?" he asked. "The new password is offensive," a fifth year girl answered, "and we're not going in until they change it." Teddy Lupin frowned- not at those in the hallway, of course, but rather at the situation. "Oh? What's the password?" "Clean blood," Nym spat disgustedly. Teddy only sighed outwardly, but his hair turning scarlet was a clear sign of his true anger. "Alright, well we can't have you lot just sitting in the hallway, so you'll have to come stay with us for the night." There were hesitant nods all around, and the beginnings of smiles on a few faces. Staying with the Hufflepuffs... Before we go, I have to check who's coming. Your prefects gave me the list of absent students. Please say 'here' when I call your name. Jade Moorland?" "Here," said the fifth-year who'd spoken up earlier. "Nymphadora Weasley?" "Here," Nym said, and Teddy smiled. He'd always seemed fond of the younger girl, though maybe it was because she bore his mother's name. "Joshua Bingham?" "Here." Teddy went on down the list, ending with "Benjamin Wood?" "Here," Ben answered. "Alright, that's everyone. Come on, you all!" Ben liked the Hufflepuff common room. He liked how friendly everyone was. He liked the peacock, Heracles, who seemed to like him too. There were even more things he liked the next day: for instance, how a cluster of Ravenclaws took turns shooting charms at the Slytherin door, trying to change the password or else get it to open without one. Or how, when that failed, the Gryffindors- led by their prefect, who happened to be Ben's older sister, Elizabeth- attempted to forcibly remove the door entirely. This series of tries failed as well, but it stirred up enough commotion to draw in the Headmistress and she, upon understanding the problem, rectified it immediately, to great cheers from all parties. Ben hugged his sibling. "Thanks for the help, Lizzy," he said. "Any time, little brother. It's a good thing you guys did here today, pushing for change. Dads will be proud." "Think so?" "I know so. You'll probably make prefect next year too." Ben laughed. "Oh, D1 would love that." He imagined Percy's face when he learned that both of his children were now prefects like he had been, and Ben felt a warm rush in his stomach. I'd love that too, he thought to himself. Lizzy just grinned. __________ Daisy hadn't meant to start crying in the middle of Charms class; she just couldn't hold it back anymore. She'd been trying to control her distress since the letter had arrived that morning from her father, letting her know that Grandpa Vernon didn't want them coming over for Christmas that year or, it seemed, any year following. Of course, Dudley hadn't explicitly told his daughter why they were no longer welcome, but she wasn't dumb enough that she couldn't figure it out on her own: it was because she had magic. It was already her second year at Hogwarts, but at holiday time last year her grandparents hadn't known yet. Now they did, and Grandpa didn't want to see her anymore. She cried silently, with her head down, but her fellow Ravenclaws didn't miss her shaking shoulders, and the room got quiet. Anna Granger-Weasley, her closest friend and the only one who knew what had happened, put a comforting hand on Daisy's back. "I know it's not the same," she whispered, so as not to disturb the rest of the class, "but you guys are totally coming to our Holiday gathering instead." Daisy turned her head to look at Anna with teary eyes. "We are?" "Oh, absolutely. It's a huge get-together that we do every year in James and Matt's backyard. My Granny Molly makes twice as much food as we need, even though there's already thirty-three of us in total. Uncle Percy drinks too much mulled wine and then goes on a rant about something or other, except none of it makes sense. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Oliver fight over which of their Quidditch teams are better- Ginny plays Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies and Oliver is Keeper for Puddlemere United. Uncle George tells us stories about Fred and him when they were students together. Aiden's little sister Mallory, Professor Longbottom's daughter Bex, and Callie sometimes decide to put on some silly show. It's all great fun." Daisy smiled weakly. "Sounds great. You sure there's room for me and my mum and dad?" Anna laughed softly. "There's always more room at a Weasley party, and the Potters' backyard is distinctly huge." "I suppose that's true." Daisy tried to grin after that, but Anna could probably tell she wasn't back at 100%, because at lunch she started up a game. "It's called the Story Game. We take turns adding a sentence to a story as we go along. The sentences have to make grammatical sense, but the plot can be as strange or random as you want." "Ooh, sounds fun. Can we join in?" Daisy and Anna looked up to see Matt, Gillian, and Nym sliding in beside them (The school had recently switched to an open-seating policy to maintain camaraderie between the Houses). "Yeah, sure," Daisy said, scooting to make more room. "Alright, I'll start," Anna said eagerly. She drummed her fingers in thought for a moment. "Okay. Once, there was an old, grumpy sorcerer who lived in a cave on a mountain." Gillian jumped in next. "The people at the base of the mountain believed that if you brought the sorcerer a gift that he liked, he would grant you a wish in exchange." "Every day," Matt added, "Someone took a gift up the mountain, but the sorcerer didn't like any of them." "Then a new woman moved to the town below," Daisy inserted nervously, hoping she was doing this right. "She heard about the man on the mountain, but nothing about his powers," Nym put in. Anna's eyes brightened as she saw where Nym was going with this. "The woman thought the man must be lonely and perhaps cold all by himself, so she took a warm blanket and a fresh batch of cookies and brought them to him," she said. "The man was touched by her genuine generosity," Gillian said, "and he offered her anything she wanted." "She thought for a long while, and finally she decided," Matt contributed. "And she asked, 'Can you put some brains in my son Tobias's head, because he hasn't got any." Anna snorted at the mention of her brother, and suddenly the whole group had dissolved into laughter. "You can n-never tell Toby about this," Daisy choked out between giggles. They all shook their heads in agreement, still fighting to contain the wave of mirth. "This is why you're my favorite," Anna informed Daisy gleefully, and Daisy grinned. These really are the people I want to spend my holidays with, she realized. __________ Aiden's heart started racing the second the blood red envelope landed in front of him at breakfast. He elbowed James, eyes wide with horror. "It's a Howler," he said with a voice full of dread. James gave a sympathetic smile. "It might not be so bad. Maybe it's some really good news, or maybe it's just a prank from someone. You haven't done anything wrong, have you?" Aiden shrugged. "I mean, we did turn all Professor Longbottom's gardening things pink and sparkly last week, but he didn't seem to mind. I think he even sent a set home to Bex, who I'm sure was thrilled. It was an innocent bit of fun." James smiled at the memory, but the smile dropped from his face almost immediately. "Dude, it's smoking at the edges." Aiden jolted in alarm. "Just open it, before it's too late," James counseled. Aiden took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and tore the envelope open. When he heard his ten-year-old sister Mallory's voice ring out, he thought he was safe. Just a prank after all. But then he heard her words. "AIDEN OH MY GOD, I JUST FINISHED THE NEW SEASON OF NEVATERIA AND YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!!! STEVEN AND MABEL KISSED, AND THE SHIFTMEN KILLED CODY, AND JONATHAN TOLD CHRIS THAT HE COULDN'T SEE BEA ANYMORE. I'M DYING AND I HAD TO TELL YOU. OKAY, BYE!!!" For a moment, there was dead silence in the Great Hall, and then a hundred people started shouting at once. They were all muggleborns or half-bloods who watched Nevateria, the current most popular sci-fi show, and they were all furious at Aiden. "I'm sorry!" he yelled. "I didn't ask her to tell me!" James frowned. "What was all that about?" he asked. Oh. Aiden had forgotten that, even though James's dad was raised by Muggles, they didn't watch television very often. "It's a show," he tried to explain. "One of the best shows. And Mallory just spoiled it for everyone." "Ah." Aiden was shamed by his non-pureblood peers for the rest of the day. It might have continued on longer, except that Toby Granger-Weasley ran up to him in the hallway after his last class, out of breath, and exclaimed, "The Room of Requirement can generate wifi!" "What?!" "AND it can be a movie theater!" "You're joking." "I'm not! It's officially the weekend. Let's round everybody up and marathon Nevateria together, my guy! I've got Anna waiting in there so the room stays put. Whoever you pass, send them that way. We can get a few house elves to bring snacks. There's tons of space, so if they want to watch too, that's fine. Come on, let's go!" Toby, Aiden, and James took off down the hallway together. "Brilliant, you are!" Aiden exclaimed while they ran. "This is why you're a Ravenclaw!" The plan worked seamlessly. Everyone interested gathered in the Room of Requirement, sitting in movie theater seats, and they got the show to play. Several house elves carried around food and drink for those who wanted it, though a group of Hufflepuffs convinced two to sit down and watch for a while. It turned out Missy didn't like it much, but Pokey was absolutely entranced. He babbled nonstop about the brilliance of it to his unfortunate neighbor, who happened to be Matt. Matt was too pleased at seeing a house elf freely enthuse about an interest to care. They all had a great time, and all the animosity toward Aiden ended. It was definitely a good day. __________ There would certainly be more struggles ahead for the Potters, Granger-Weasleys, (Lovegood-)Weasleys, Finnigans, Woods, Longbottom, Lupin, and Dursley, but they didn't have to worry. They were one huge team, a family, and they could handle anything. Well, almost anything. It turned out there was still a limit on how many animals a single person could bring into the school, which was a problem for Matt, who found himself missing his other creatures. "You know, when they say don't do something," James said oh-so-helpfully, "they just mean don't get caught doing it." Matt shoved his brother, insisting that he wasn't like that, but in the end he snuck all his animals into the castle, with help from Callie. Family meant helping each other, even if it's helping them break school rules... didn't it?

#Harry potter #potter verse #Drarry #Linny #perciver #deamus #Ronmione

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